[Log] Aizen, Gin
Title: Escalation II (Part 1)
Characters: Gin Ichimaru (lcpdragonslayer), Sousuke Aizen (formative)
Timeline: 24 December 1939
Rating: NC-17 (blood, violence)
Summary: Aizen and Gin give Antonio a first rate demonstration of how proper house-cleaning is supposed to be done. Aizen becomes Don and Gin gets a fire engine.
It was the season of love and peace. Families gathered at warmly illuminated homes, settling around tables covered with plates filled with delicious looking and smelling dishes. There would be a beautifully decorated tree, hovering protectively over piles of merrily wrapped presents of all sizes. The father was running a little late. Heavily packed with more presents for his lovely family, he rushed down the snow-covered path towards his house. His wife and his mother would certainly scold him for making them wait.
Pushing the door open, the man entered the house, smiling as he inhaled the scent of home-made cooking and felt the warmth of his home gently embraced him. “I’m home!” he called out, shedding his coat and picked up the presents to make his way into the living-room, wondering why none of his children had come out to greet him.
“Giulietta? Why’s it so quiet? Somebody put on some music! S’Christmas ‘n not a funeral…”
Boxes wrapped in shiny paper, adorned with pretty bows dropped to the ground at the sight that greeted him.
When a man came home for Christmas dinner, he didn’t expect to find his mother lying on the floor next to her second son, his brother, their necks twisted at an awkward angle, and the rest of his family gagged and bound to the chairs surrounding the dinner table. His wife and his sister were sobbing quietly through their gags, their eyes red and puffy. His remaining three brothers didn’t dare look at him.
The children… Where were his children?
“Good evening, Antonio,” a warm voice laced with light amusement greeted the father who stood frozen on the spot. “I hope you don’t mind us dropping by. Gin was bored and I’ve always enjoyed spending time with your lovely family.”
Slowly the Italian turned his head towards the source of the soft chuckling and paled.
In his home, sitting comfortably on the couch with Antonio’s two blindfolded children were Gin Ichimaru and Sousuke Aizen who was holding the third child, an infant, in his arms.
“What are ya doin’ here? What do ya…” Antonio’s already shaky voice broke when Aizen rose from his seat and walked towards him.
“Why don’t you take a seat,” the taller man suggested with a gentle smile and the Italian complied with the request, slumping down into an armchair heavily. “Here, the little one would be more comfortable with his father.” Sousuke put the infant into its parent’s arms.
It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t breathing. Its skin was grey.
Before Antonio could scream, Aizen clamped hand over the man’s mouth and forced his head back. “Shh, don’t make a sound, Toni. You don’t want to scare the other children, do you?”
The Italian stared at the other man and managed to shake his head against the iron grip on his jaw. “Please, Sou,” he whispered hoarsely when he was released, “please, let them go. They got nothin’ to do with this.”
“I can’t do that, I’m afraid.” Sousuke leaned forward to look Antonio straight in the face. “You see,” he continued, his usually warm gaze hard and cold. The sitting man remembered those eyes from the past and he felt his heart drop. “Gin’s had a tough month so I thought I’d give him something nice for Christmas.” The smile widened a fraction. “And since you’re responsible for the lousy weeks we’ve had, you should compensate us, don’t you think?” The Concavo picked something up from the couch before he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and shoved it into the father’s mouth. “Try not to scream.”
Antonio never saw what was coming. Suddenly, excruciating pain spread from his knees up his legs and twisted his gut around. High pitched sounds from the dining-table drifted towards him but didn’t really reach his ears, his own muffled howling drowning everything else out.
“Stage is yours, Gin.” Sousuke looked over his shoulder at the younger man and smirked as he dropped the wooden baton on the ground and patted Antonio’s shattered kneecap gently. “Don’t feel like you have to hold back,” he added teasingly.
It was almost Christmas.
Gin used to hate Christmas. It was cold out on the streets, and hardly anyone was around for Gin to sell matchboxes to or shine shoes for. And while everyone was laughing and happy and celebrating with family, Gin was alone in the darkness, trying to stop his pale little hands from shaking from the sheer cold.
Christmas was a time of suffering for him, while everyone was enjoying the winter season, while the other kids had loads of presents and had snowball fights.
Christmas was God's way of laughing down at him, and all he wanted to do was cut up that smiling, patronising face, or rip it apart with his bare hands.
Some things have changed since then.
It was difficult to stay seated there and wait for Antonio to come home when all Gin wanted to do was shed more blood and cause more pain. Behind slits of eyes were scintillating blue irises laced with sheer excitement and an uninhibited lust for blood.
But it was alright - he had a little kid sitting next to him to play with. A child who was shivering and making quiet sobbing noises.
When Aizen was done, Gin got to his feet, stretching from one side to the other. He walked around to the other side of the dining table, and climbed onto it, standing on the tabletop, surveying the scene.
So many choices...
The women, he would leave for later. They were often the most dramatic, and the best one - the wife, of course - should be saved for last. That left him with three petrified men to choose from.
Gin chose the one in the middle, and stood on the table in front of him. The man lifted his head a little before looking up to the smiling face peering down at him. Reaching over behind the man, Gin pulled the chair out a little.
It gave him enough room to sit down in the man's lap. The silver fox squirmed and adjusted a little to make himself comfortable, straddling the man who seemed to find Gin's shirt more interesting than his face.
"Yer jus' like 'im, aren't ya?" Gin asked, lifting the man's chin so that their eyes met. The fear dancing in those eyes...
"Won't even look at me 'cuz I'm trash."
The man swallowed hard and shook his head, sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Ya don't have to lie. I'd prefer it if ya told me the truth, y'know, even tho' I don't need ya ta remind me."
Gin pulled out his favourite serrated switchblade and flicked it open, revealing the gleaming metal. He brought it to the side of the man's face, pressing it against his cheek. Those petrified eyes widened, the skin was quivering under Gin's blade and Gin could feel the heartbeat pounding away from the man beneath him.
Applying a bit of pressure, he cut into the cheek, and he drew a thick line of blood down the man's cheek. There was a startled cry, but it was nothing compared to the pained scream Gin drew when he twirled the blade in his hand and drove it through the man's shoulder.
Releasing the handle, Gin cupped one hand against the unharmed cheek while the other continued to hold the chin up. He leaned in and licked a long trail up the wound, the fresh, warm blood pouring over his tongue.
No - this was not a funeral. It was going to be carnage.
Crying children were such a pitiful sight to behold. With a quiet sigh, Aizen lifted the boy, his godson, off the couch and settled him in his father’s lap. A series of whimpers escaped Antonio who was doing his best not to scream out loud when the weight of his son caused another wave of fresh, sharp pain surge through him.
The Italian was gripping the small corpse in his arms so hard his knuckles turned white. If the baby hadn’t been dead already, it would have been screaming its little throat hoarse by now. What a shame…
He reached for Toni’s tie and dabbed at the fine sheen of perspiration gently, watching with mild interest how the face muscles twitched and the handkerchief got soaked with saliva. “Toni, Toni, you’re being rude. Again.” Sighing, Sousuke grabbed a fistful of black hair and tugged at it as his gaze settled on the spectacle at the dining table. “I know you’re in pain but we did set this up for your viewing pleasure, too.”
The pained scream Gin drew out of his current toy made the small girl cry harder. She reached up to pull off her blindfold but was stopped by a large hand closing around her tiny wrists. “You promised not to take it off, little girl,” the Concavo chided her gently. “Santa doesn’t like children who break their promises.” The sobbing turned into soft gasps and hiccups and the girl was rewarded with a pat on the head.
“Keep your eyes open, Toni,” Aizen said lightly, turning his gaze away from his silver-haired wraith feasting on his prey to look at his own. “Unless you think you’d enjoy having your eyelids sliced off.” Dark eyelashes fluttered open, revealing eyes wide with panic.
Laughing softly, Sousuke settled on the armrest and draped his arm across the back of the chair. “Don’t look at me. The show’s happening over there. You should wave your little brother goodbye while he’s still conscious. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
Whether it be the blood of the most guilty of sinners, or the blood of the purest, most innocent, it all tasted the same. Copperish, slightly viscous, mildly sour - not a taste an ordinary tongue is used to, but for Gin it was the sweetest honey he could ever savour. Every droplet of blood he swallowed was a droplet of life seeping away from the body he was sitting on, and to be able to be the one to end that life...
Gin moaned quietly as the man gave a frustrated and resigned groan, pulling away a little, licking his lips.
"Y'know, I had two reasons fer learnin' how ta read n' write. S'difficult once ya get past a certain age n' all, but I was thinkin' ta myself -"
Gin silenced the whimpering by ripping the blade out of the flesh, earning another scream as blood torrented out of the wound, down the shirt and towards the floor.
"- Mista Aizen was nice enough ta want ta teach me, n' he said it'll come in handy. And it has, now that I have this... day job at the office. That's one reason..."
Leaning back a little so Gin could properly see what he was doing, the tip of the blade sliced through the shirt the man was wearing. The two sides of the shirt flapped over to the sides, revealing a sweat-slicked chest heaving with the effort to breathe, heaving with fear.
"N' my second reason was that I could show people like you what trash like me is capable of."
The Capo Bastone started to carve his name into the man's chest, one hand gripping onto the throat to try and stifle the bloodcurdling screams, and also to stop too much body jerking movements. Blood spurted out onto Gin's hands, onto his shirt, onto his face, and his sinister smile widened into something more maniacal.
When 'GIN' was nicely inscribed into the body, the man was barely alive, desperately clinging onto threads of life.
Most of those threads were severed when Gin drove the blade through the body again, one of the serrated edges of the knife scraping against bone.
Resting his hands on the man's shoulders, Gin leaned in to whisper in his ear.
"Does it hurt?"
Aizen was a little disappointed that Antonio didn’t even try to wave at his dying sibling. “Where’s that strong family bond you keep bragging about, hm? The one I ‘just don’t get’ because I’m not Italian. I’m not impressed, yet.” He yanked the dead infant out of the vice-like grip of its father and dropped it on the floor before he lifted Toni’s hand for him and waved it around.
“Doesn’t that make you feel better now?”
A muffled cry was the only answer Sousuke got but it was enough. He wasn’t here for witty conversation, after all. Smiling he stuck a cigarette between his lips and patted his pockets in search of a lighter. He found matches instead.
“Gin’s very talented. It’s a pity you never managed to see it.” The Concavo struck a match and lit his cigarette, blowing out a stream of blue smoke which curled around his godson’s head. “Of course, you never even bothered to look for all the good sides, being too fixated on your unreasonable jealousy.” The still burning matchstick hovered dangerously close to the father’s face.
“Blow it out for me?”
It was impossible to fulfil that request and they both knew it. Aizen chuckled, the look on his face almost apologetic when he extinguished the flame by pushing the stick into Antonio’s cheek. Muffled screams were so unsatisfactory and this was going to be the last time he’d hear his partner scream, after all. Maybe he should remove the make-shift gag, he pondered, as he took in the beautiful sight of his second-in-command in front of him.
“You wouldn’t expect it but red really suits him, don’t you think, Toni?” Long fingers curled around the Italian’s chin and directed his gaze towards the silver fox. “Look at the last thing your family will see before they pass over to the other side. It’ll give you something to talk about in hell.”
Gin pulled back to look at the man's face and listen to the reply, but when nothing coherent came, his wide smile faded a little. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and dull blue irises locked on with the man's, instilling more fear to the point where tears were trickling from the edges of the man's eyes.
There was nothing in Gin's eyes. He may have been smiling, and his irises may be glistening with excitement from all the blood and screams, but the man had known from the moment their gazes locked.
He was looking into the face of a fearless, bloodthirsty, unfeeling monster.
"Y'know, they say everyone's good at sommin'. Some people're good at drawin', some people're good wit' numbers, some people're good wit' instruments..."
Using a thumb to tilt the man's head back, Gin turned the head to one side, exposing the neck and the throbbing carotid artery. The Adam's apple bobbed against his hand as he leaned in to kiss the blood vessel, sucking on it affectionately.
"Believe it or not, even someone like me can be good at sommin'," he murmured almost sultrily, pressing himself closer against the man's body, feeling the warmth from the body slipping away.
Gin licked a combination of tears, sweat and blood off the man's skin, his hand smoothly moving from under the man's chin to covering his mouth firmly, his other hand gripping onto the handle of his switchblade.
"I don't like to boast, but uh... I'm good at killin' people."
Dark eyes widened, and in one swift motion, Gin ripped the knife out and sliced through the front of the man's throat, his execution precise to the point of cutting through exactly half of the windpipe. Blood splattered everywhere, crimson liquid splashing onto his face, into silver hair, onto his arm, onto the table. The Capo Bastone's hands fell to his sides, resting on the outsides of the man's thighs.
Leaning back, Gin stole a glance at Mister Aizen and Antonio before returning his gaze to the dying man he was sitting on, smirking as the man started to have a spasm, grinning as he gurgled and blood spilled out of his throat, chuckling lightly when the man made choking, snorting-like noises.
This year, Christmas was turning out to be a spectacular occasion.
When the man finally finished dying his slow, painful death, Gin climbed off to the side. He pulled the chair down backwards, letting the dead man fall to the ground with the chair.
The table looked much more tidy and uncluttered this way. The Capo Bastone moved to sit on the table, swinging his legs casually, turning his head slowly from the brother sitting to his left to the other brother on his right. Gin was thoroughly enjoying himself - to the point where there was a mildly noticeable bulge in his pants. There was blood dripping from Gin's chin and hair, and a hand covered in warm, fresh blood drove the switchblade through the table, splintering the wood, splattering more blood onto the tablecloth.
"Who's next? Any volunteers? Don't be shy now - maybe ya won't die such a painful death if ya nominate yerself ta go next."
“Oh no, he’s bleeding from the throat,” Aizen breathed, sounding more amused than anything else when Gin’s first plaything broke. “Do you want me to call an ambulance for him?” His gaze met Antonio’s appalled and horror-stricken eyes. “No? Well, I don’t think they could do anything for him, either.” With a light shrug the dark-haired man flicked some ash off his cigarette and stuck it back between his smiling lips.
Sousuke had anticipated a deep sense of satisfaction when he and Gin planned this little happening together. He had not, however, expected to have so much… fun. This, all of this, he’d set up and designed for Gin’s pleasure and not his own.
It was a rather interesting discovery.
“If you need help deciding, I’m sure Toni here or one of the kids could lend a hand, Gin.”
Aizen’s suggestion was met with a chorus of muffled protest from their hostages. Soft laughter bubbled up and spilled from his lips. It was a warm and happy sound. Utterly inappropriate and offensive given their surroundings - yet it was kind of beautiful.
As interesting Mister Aizen's suggestion sounded, Gin would not torment the children. They didn't need the blood of one of their relatives on their hands before their lives were ended. Though he did not mind tormenting children, Gin took no delight or pleasure in it.
After all, even a bloodthirsty hound like Gin Ichimaru was ultimately human, and he had his likes, dislikes, limitations and reasons.
His gaze lingered on Mister Aizen for a moment before shifting over to Antonio. It was all the more a delightful occasion that Mister Aizen was visibly enjoying himself, too. It would not have been as fun if Gin was the only one reaping the benefits of this... entertainment.
"Sounds good," he said, hopping off the table, approaching Antonio. Gin leaned against the edge of the table, folding his arms, smearing the blood across his shirt and other sleeve. The switchblade had been left in the table deliberately. It wasn't like any of the Italians were in the mood to scramble for it and try to prolong or escape the inevitable.
"Whaddaya say, boss? One grunt fer the bo behind me, two fer the one further away. I'll take silence fer 'please pick up the baton n' smash my other knee'. N' who knows - maybe I'll listen to ya this time."
The silver fox had always been the softer one of them, Aizen thought, and smiled at Gin. It was funny how people always misjudged the pair, thinking that they fared safer if they stuck to the mild-mannered dark-haired man instead of the grinning silver head.
Not that either of them stood for stability and safety but Sousuke Aizen, unlike Gin Ichimaru, enjoyed bringing pain and death to young and old alike.
Indiscriminately.
“Antonio. You’re doing it wrong.” Sousuke sighed at the man, who was releasing a string of grunts, some of which sounded suspiciously like curses, and rose from his position on the armrest, casually pulling his godson with him by the scruff of the boy’s neck. He set the boy down, cocking an eyebrow when the child didn’t scramble away but clung to his leg instead.
The Concavo put his hand on top of the small head and stroked it gently. “One grunt for brother number three, and two for brother number five. It’s not that hard, a retriever could do it. Try again,” he said in an encouraging manner.
However, either the Italian had already lost what little intelligence he possessed, or he simply didn’t want to understand because he just kept grunting like a demented pig.
“Stop wasting our time, please. I know it’s a tough decision to make but you’re all going to die so why not take Gin up on his offer and pick the one you like more so he can be released from his misery a little earlier than the others, hm? You’re still as indecisive as back then when we started out. It’s almost cute.” Moving around the chair, Aizen gently detached the child clinging to his leg and positioned it in front of its father. “Let me help you out.” He kept his eyes, two cold glittering pieces of amber, trained on Toni and covered the boy’s mouth with his hand.
“I really don’t want to hurt you,” he purred at his godson as his index finger and thumb pinched the child’s nostrils together, effectively cutting off its air supply. “But your father is such a stubborn mule that I have no other choice.” The child struggled and clawed at its godfather’s hand desperately.
“One or two, Toni? I’d hurry up if I were you or you’ll lose another child.”
Two choked grunts made it past the gag. Smiling Aizen released the boy and shoved him back towards his father.
"Two it is~" Gin said, spinning and waltzing over to the youngest of the Italian brothers. He jumped back onto the table, taking a seat next to the unfortunate young man. He was only a little older than Gin - a young, handsome, intelligent, educated man with bright future prospects. Chances were that this man knew nothing about Antonio's dirty business. It was equally common to exclude family members from Mafia business as it was to include them, and exclusion often meant that they knew absolutely nothing about what went on under the table.
"Don't look so sad. Ultimately, it was yer brother who was the one to choose yer fate, n' not me. He knew this was comin' - or, at least, he shoulda."
You don't try to assassinate Sousuke Aizen and expect to walk away unscathed.
A bloody hand gripped onto the young man's throat loosely, leaving a crimson handprint. Gin placed his index and middle fingers over the throbbing pulse and leaned in.
"How does it feel?" he asked, tilting his head, smiling mildly.
"Ah - silly me. Perhaps I should remove the gag first, hm?"
Boney fingers danced around to the back of the young man's head, undoing the gag, letting the damp piece of cloth drop to the floor. The mouth moved, but Gin was quick to silence it by grabbing the young man's throat again, gripping tightly this time to cut off the air supply for a moment.
The Capo Bastone leaned in, his face hovering mere inches away from the young man, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.
"How does it feel?" Gin asked again, his warm breath dancing on the young man's lips. "Someone - something like me... I've lost the ability to feel for a while now. If our positions were swapped, y'know, I'd be sittin' there with my hands tied down n' still I'd be smilin', like this. Life's too short to be frownin' n' grumpy all the time."
He pressed his lips against quivering ones, and an incoherent, strangled noise was lost in what could vaguely be construed as a kiss of death.
"Can ya teach me how ta not smile?"
“Do you think they hate you now? Your precious family.” Aizen cast a sideways glance at Antonio. “Did you even think of what might happen to them when you acted on your petty needs and tried to kill Gin?” Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he dropped it on the floor and stepped on it.
“Or did you really believe you could get away with it? You never were good at keeping your desires in check and now you’ve brought suffering to the ones who trust and rely on you. You’re not a very good head of the family. I’d be so disappointed.”
Soft mocking laughter mingled with the choked whimpering and sobbing coming from the dining table.
“Make good use of the time you have left, Toni. Think of something nice to say to your pretty wife. I think she deserves a few kind parting words for standing by your side so faithfully for all those years. It’s the least you can do for killing her and making her children grow up as orphans.”
The Italian’s eyes widened. His children would grow up as orphans? That meant that… they would live. Lifting his gaze from the softly crying boy in his arms, he stared at his ex-business partner, feeling his eyes grow moist. He’d assumed that Sou intended to… he’d killed the baby, after all, but now…
The smile on the Concavo’s face softened when he saw the flicker of hope and gratitude in the father’s eyes. Cupping the other man’s neck, he leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
“What’s wrong, Toni?” he whispered, eyes warm and gentle again. “Did you think I’d take the life of my godson and his sister, too?” The Italian nodded. “Will you believe me if I say I won’t?” Antonio nodded again and squeezed his eyes shut as relief washed over him. At least his offspring would…
“Oh, Toni,” Aizen sighed and brushed his thumb over the father’s cheek. “You really shouldn’t.”
Sliding his hand around the thick neck, Sousuke squeezed it to cut off the outraged howl and glanced over his shoulder at the silver fox. “How’s the young one, Gin?”
Gin pulled back from the kiss and tilted his head a little.
"Not as talkative as I expected," the Capo Bastone noted. He was half-expecting the man's mouth to start shooting off as soon as he removed the gag, maybe with a string of Italian curses or a haphazard pile of begs, pleads and sobs.
Instead, there was nothing. After the fear came just the resigned look in those eyes.
Gin was not exactly impressed.
He slipped his fingers into the young man's mouth, much to the Italian's surprise. His thumb, index and middle fingers gripped onto a slimy tongue and pulled it out, holding it there tightly.
Now the man was starting to try to talk and reclaim his tongue, showing obvious discomfort. Fear was reignited in those eyes as Gin reached around with his free hand to rip his switchblade out of the table.
"Presumin' yer Catholic n' not an atheist, y'know God made us like this and gave us things for a reason - like yer tongue, fer example. He gave us - or, well, most of us - tongues so that we could eat properly n' use it to talk."
He pressed the edge of the blade against the Italian man's tongue, much to his horror. Even though he wanted to protest, every movement his tongue made was tempting a cut from the sharp edge of the blade. There were only uncontrolled sobs and half-choked noises.
"If ya ain't gonna use yer tongue, there ain't no point in keepin' it, is there?"
Gin's hand moved in a flash, severing the tongue off and letting the limp muscle fall to the floor. A long, loud scream echoed through the room, renewing the family's tears, renewing their resignation in the desperation and helplessness in the situation.
Bony fingers curled into dark clumps of hair, and he tilted the young Italian's head down so that all the blood would pour out, so that he would not choke to death on his own blood.
"Well," Gin said, grinning as he looked over to Aizen, raising his voice a little so that he could be heard over the screams that had died down into pained howls and groans.
"Won't be talkin' anymore but at least he's making some noise."
“That’s good. Silence is so depressing.” Aizen actually grinned back at the silver-haired man. He was glad to see that Gin was enjoying himself so much and to think that they owed this pleasure to the very man who’d made their lives miserable for the past month. It was delightfully amusing.
“And you keep saying that he’s the quiet one in your family.” Shaking his head, the Concavo picked up the boy who had gone awfully silent all of a sudden and sat him down next to the little girl before he crossed the room to take a closer look at Gin’s handiwork.
Coming to a halt behind Antonio’s wife, he put a hand on her shaking shoulder and squeezed it lightly. Poor woman didn’t deserve this. She was a very kind person and he genuinely liked her. She did make the best turkey in three states, after all.
The hand travelled from the woman’s shoulder up her neck and into her chestnut hair, eliciting a soft whimper from her as he idly toyed with a wisp of hair. “I told your husband to retire when your son was born,” Sousuke told her, “but he wouldn’t listen. That has always been his biggest flaw. He doesn’t listen to people. When he listens, however, he doesn’t understand it. When he understands, he fails to act. When he finally acts, he messes up and won’t admit his mistakes. Even feels wronged when I call him out on it.”
Sighing he leaned against the table and looked at the blood-smeared face of his silver fox. His eyes traced the lazy smile on Gin’s lips before they lifted their gaze to meet eyes the colour of the sky.
“There’s not much you can do to help such a person and I’m deeply sorry that you have to endure this, Giulietta. Bear with us just a little longer? It’ll be over soon. I promise.”
The poor young Italian man was not going to live for much longer now. Blood was gushing out of his mouth much like a waterfall, splashing down onto his lap, and Gin was not doing anything to stop the bleeding or prolong his life.
When everything went relatively quiet for a moment, save for the laboured breaths and groans of pain, Gin slipped his fingers under the chin and tilted that head back up, peering into eyes scintillating with pain and fear. Those eyes were much more animated now than they had been before, and even though blood was dripping down from the edges of his lips, even though blood was everywhere and life was slowly slipping away from the space between weak, trembling fingers, there was a morsel of defiance and desperation to live.
Futile - but that was probably what it meant to be human. Someone like Gin wouldn't know for sure.
"Are ya afraid?"
The head nodded slowly, glistening irises looking up at the Capo Bastone as if they could reach inside the monster and rekindle his heartbeat. A valiant but useless effort, again - but Gin appreciated the sentiments nonetheless.
"Of what? Death?"
That gaze dropped, shifting to the side for a moment in contemplation. Slowly, tentatively, the head shook.
"Hmm. Not death? That's interestin'... then, maybe... yer afraid of Mista Aizen?"
Dark irises shifted over to examine the older man at the other side of the table. The gaze quickly lowered, though Gin kept the head held relatively high.
The head shook again, seeking eyes settling back on Gin's face.
"Ah... So, that must mean yer afraid of me."
Gin could feel the muscles tense up, and finally he managed to draw a nod. The Capo Bastone started laughing, and he leaned in, his face hovering inches away from the young man's as his hand slipped up to caress the Italian's cheek.
"Silly boy," he whispered. "I'm not the one ya should be 'fraid of."
“Don’t believe a word he says.” Pushing away from the table, Aizen left Giulietta wallowing in her misery and approached the young man whose miserable existence would come to an end soon. What a lucky boy he was!
“You should be very afraid of him. He’s the one you should fear the most.” Since the puddles of blood had spread out and melded into a large black pool on the floor, making it impossible not to step into it, he didn’t pay much attention to where he was walking. “Mister Ichimaru likes to tell lies,” the dark-haired man added, his voice a low purr as he brushed his fingertips against the Italian’s other cheek.
“He has such a clever tongue - that Mister Ichimaru - and he tells lies so pretty that you want them to be true.” Sousuke smiled mildly at their mute prey, nothing but warmth and care reflecting in his eyes. Slowly he curved his fingers around its chin and brushed his thumb across its bloodied lips. “But so do I.” The smile turned into a cruel little smirk as he dipped his thumb into the empty cavern and pressed it hard against the crippled muscle.
The young man screamed again but not as loud as before.
“His vocal chords are going to give out soon,” Aizen observed dispassionately, adding a little more pressure to see how much longer it would take before the Italian’s voice would break.
Gin sat there on the table, watching Mister Aizen's hand, smiling for all the world like he was a little boy giddy with excitement and happiness that came with the festive season. Gin only really lied when he felt like he had to - but he certainly was not below bending and twisting the truth to his benefit.
Wouldn't get very far as a Mafioso if he had any real sense of righteousness - or, at least, righteousness as the rest of the world defined it.
The straining voice was alternating between a high and normal pitch, wavering and crackling. It was not a particularly pleasant noise, but the bittersweetness of it was what made it so gratifying.
An ensanguined hand held the serrated switchblade out to Aizen, blood dripping from the back of his hand, splashing onto the dinner table. It was not too often that the older man took time out to do things like these, and after all Gin was offering to bring more genuine smiles to his face.
“SOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
The enraged outcry was followed by a heavy thud and a flood of threats and insults. Aizen turned his head to confirm visually what he already knew: Antonio had finally realised that he wasn’t tied up; that he could get out of the chair if he wanted to. However, one would think that he knew how a shattered knee would hamper his walking abilities.
Shooting the man sprawled out on the floor a slightly contemptuous look, Sousuke took the knife from Gin’s hand and rammed it unceremoniously through the little brother’s eye. No need to drag it out further. The moment was spoilt.
“Why is it,” he sighed at Gin as he pulled the blade out, feeling it scrape against bone, and returned it to his silver fox, “that when he is presented with two options, he always picks the wrong one?”
He picked up a napkin. Retrieved the severed tongue. Stalked towards the still cursing Italian on the ground. Loosened his tie. Pulled it off as he crouched down, one foot crushing the bones of a sausage-fingered hand.
“That’s not how gifts should behave. You’re going to ruin our Christmas if you keep going like that.”
Not at all distracted by Antonio off to the side, Gin made a face at the knife in his hand. The life was ended all too quickly, and now there was eye goo on the serrated blade.
Gin cleaned off his knife on the dead man's shirt, wiping all the blood and other viscous substances off before kicking the chair over, knocking yet another knight off the table.
Down to the last male now.
Gin got off the table and, as he had done with the youngest brother, removed the gag, letting it fall to the floor before he circled back around to the table and sat on its edge.
"Maybe I'll get further with you, hm?"
There was anger dancing in the man's eyes, and he looked just about ready to spit in Gin's face.
"How about you?" Gin asked, lifting the Italian's chin with a portion of his blade. "How do you feel?"
"You're a sick fuck. You both are."
The Capo Bastone's grin widened.
"That's more like it."
Whatever the Italian said was drowned out by the curses Antonio kept spitting at Aizen but one didn’t have to be a genius to know that it wasn’t something flattering. “You all missed the lesson on manners, didn’t you? Ah well, I guess you had better things to do. I wonder if you’d behave better if your dear mother was still with us.”
“Ya ain’t gettin’way with this,” Toni slurred. “Without me ya wouldn’t’ve gotten dis far. They’d’ve killed ya on first sight, ya fuckin’ kike bastard. They-”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure they’ll do horrible, horrible things to me.” The Concavo silenced his ‘friend’ by shoving the napkin into his big mouth and used his tie to secure the gag more firmly. “I seriously doubt they can top this, though. Strangling people with a piano wire, shooting or drowning them in isn’t very creative. Every common street thug can do that,” he added, sounding quite cheerful as he hauled Antonio to his feet and dragged him back to the armchair.
“Doing something like this, takes a certain amount of imagination which you don’t have.” Sousuke laughed softly and patted Toni’s head. “Gin has it in abundance. That’s one of the reasons why I’ve always liked him better than you. Now, be good and don’t try to move again. Please.” Carefully, he placed the cut off piece of dead muscle in the Italian’s broken hand and wiped his fingers on the man’s sleeve.
Picking up the girl, Aizen wandered back towards the table. “I think it’s almost time for dinner, isn’t it, Giulietta? The child looks hungry. Are you hungry, Sofia?” he asked the little girl in his arm as he untied the woman and received a small nod. The mother stared at the monster holding her child, unsure what to do. “Go on. Dinner isn’t going to serve itself.”
She rose from her seat and hurried away into the kitchen. With a soft sigh, the dark-haired man lowered himself into the vacated chair and leaned back, one hand steadying the child sitting on his knee to prevent her from falling over.
With all the possibilities Gin had on how to end this young man's life, he was very much in his own world. In a world where blood dripped from the ceilings, where the silver-furred ravenous beast was gnashing at the Italian's heels, held back from tearing into him by a leash.
This world was the only world Gin ever knew. Everything else was a blur around him, everything else was incomprehensible, everything else was a lie - lies composed of promises that would never be fulfilled.
He didn't really mind, though. As enchanting as everything was, he knew who he was - he knew what he was - and he had been in this ensanguined world for so long that it hardly affected him anymore.
"Are ya scared?"
The Italian actually laughed, even though it was weak, even though it sounded a little... resigned.
"Makes no difference if I am or not - it doesn't change anything. You'd still smile, you fucking bastard, and I'd still end up dead."
Oh dear. What a pessimistic view on life. Or, at least, what was left of his life.
"Well. The ends're no real surprise, but s'always the journey that's fun." Pressing the tip of the blade against the base of the Italian's throat, Gin drew a faint line of blood down the body, over the chest, splitting the shirt in half.
With the first drop of ruby emerging from the Italian’s throat, the melody of Silent Night was hummed quietly. By the time Gin had sliced the shirt open, the little girl had stopped crying and was humming along.
“Like that song, Sofia?”
“Ye-es.”
“Would you like to sing it? For your aunt and uncle and your parents, hm?”
“Ye-es.”
The child’s voice filled the house, sweet and clear like silver chimes.
Amused brown eyes settled on the blade-wielding silver wraith and softened a little.
It was almost wrong to have mood music accompanying what they were doing tonight, but Gin didn't mind. He had never really been the one in the centre of attention - certainly was not used to it, being just a bit of dirt before, being a useful tool afterwards - but nothing could stop him from enjoying the moment.
Gin was not causing much pain, but it was rather obvious that the Italian was in discomfort. The smallest, most insignificant of wounds were often the most annoying though.
"Yer the last one of the three. Must be tough."
"Vaffanculo."
"Hey - now yer just bein' rude."
Gin drove the blade into and through the body one inch away from the heart and avoiding the main arteries, effectively pinning the Italian against the backrest of the chair, ignoring the screams and the struggles, the groans and the string of incoherent grumbles.
"Didn't yer parents teach ya how ta behave ta guests?"
“Bunch of eggs like them weren’t taught anything, it seems.” Aizen had covered the girl’s ears and shook his head disapprovingly at the stabbed Italian. “Try to restrain yourself a little in front of the children. You don’t want this to be the last memory of their uncle’s, do you?”
Giulietta returned with two plates and set them on the table. Uncertain of what she was supposed to do next, she remained standing a couple of steps away from where her daughter was, her eyes darting around nervously.
Sousuke rose from the chair, waving at the mother to indicate that he wanted her to sit back down and she reluctantly complied. “Keep singing, little canary. Your uncle’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” He deposited the singing bundle in the woman’s lap and glanced at the plates. The food looked fine - as expected.
Giving Antonio’s wife an approving smile, Sousuke pulled an empty chair with him as he sauntered towards the oldest Italian in the room. He positioned the chair next to the one Toni was sitting in and settled down comfortably.
“Where would you like to be inhumed, Toni?”
Gin should have done more to end the Italian's life, but blood was pouring out of the gaping wound and it... was mesmerising to watch. Tentatively, a shaky hand reached out to press against the chest. Blood pooled between his index finger and his thumb, and continued to trickle over his hand, back down to soak into the shirt and trickling finally to the pants.
It was warm, fresh - and it coated Gin's hand a new shade of red. It brought life and colour to a black-and-white world, colouring shades of grey with vibrant, crimson red.
The smell of food floated and masked over the putrid scent of blood. It was... a strange blend.
There was still more blood pouring out of the wound even as life was drained from the Italian, and it soaked into Gin's skin as he sat there, still, just watching.
“I’d suggest the Holy Cross Cemetery. Very beautiful. Very quiet.” Aizen’s voice was a low murmur as he folded his hands behind his neck and stretched out his legs. “It’s Catholic, too, which makes it perfect for a traditional Italian family like yours, wouldn’t you agree?”
Half-lidded eyes watched the young artist at work across the room, traced the contours, committing them to memory and slowly added the colours. The dark ones first, then the light ones and finally…
“A family crypt with one of those mourning stone angels on top to watch over you perhaps?” he continued, sliding a little deeper into his seat and tilted his head to the side when Antonio grunted. “No? Too much?”
Sousuke shrugged and unlaced his fingers. Reaching behind his back, he pulled out his gun and retrieved a silencer from his pocket. “Well, you’ll be buried separately, then. It doesn’t make much of a difference to anyone. Least of all to you.” With a curious little smile on his lips, the Concavo attached the silencer to his gun.
“Don’t lose yourself, Gin,” he called out, his voice laced with amusement as he lowered the gun to his side. “You have two more gifts to open, remember?”
There were noises in the background - familiar noises; voices of a distant past Gin should have recognised in an instant, a voice that drowned out all the other noise, such as the scraping of wood against the floor, the held breaths, the trembling exhalations, the quiet, almost inaudible whines...
It was a voice that should have reached him - a voice that should have registered. But right now, there was nothing happening outside of blood oozing out of a body, a body enshrouded in darkness.
The world outside of the body, the blood - the world enshrouded in that darkness - it didn't matter what was going on there, because nothing could be seen in the pitch-black abyss.
As Toni had so quaintly put it all those years ago - 'it was a fucking demon' that 'craved blood and unleashed hell', and perhaps Toni was right in saying that 'when it's too far gone, even you can't control it, Sou'.
Pulling the knife out, back through the front of the body, Gin let it drop to and clatter on the floor rather unceremoniously. Both of his hands rested on the dead man's chest, near the wound, and bony fingers curled, as if they were trying to pry the hole open, trying to pry the hole bigger.
It was a little… odd that Gin showed no sign of having heard Aizen.
The older man dismissed the option of calling out again and straightened up in his chair, his smile fading a little. He could see that Antonio’s brother was dead - no mortal could lose that much blood and still be alive.
‘What are you doing, little one?’
Sousuke was more curious than worried about the lack of reaction. However, when the knife was dropped and the slender frame still didn’t move on, he frowned. Getting up, he approached the silver-haired man on silent feet, tapping the muzzle of his gun against his thigh lightly.
With each step the Concavo took, the world narrowed down further. The little singing cherub was silenced by a finger pressing gently against her small mouth - an absent-minded gesture made in passing - and then she shifted out of focus as well.
One dark eyebrow arched at the sight of spindly fingers digging their way into the corpse as if they were trying to reveal a hidden treasure.
‘Where did you go?’
Placing his free hand on the table, Aizen leaned in slowly, carefully to avoid startling the silver head. “Come back to me, Gin” he whispered into the younger man’s delicate ear. “There’s nothing left for you in there. You took everything it had.”
When that voice was resonating just next to his ear, blue eyes widened. He spun his head around to face the older man, his hands frozen on the dead man's body.
That voice that he could not recognise was now the light in his world, and it illuminated everything. He was here again, in Antonio's home, sitting on his table, and he had just taken the life of the last - or, well, second-to-last - Italian son.
Gin turned again to regard the body before him. The blood had stopped flowing.
He pulled his hands away tentatively, and turned back to look at Aizen again. Blue eyes disappeared into slits, and a wide, vulpine, unreadable smile graced the Capo Bastone's face.
Hopping off the table, Gin bent over to pick up his knife.
"Who's next, Mista Aizen?"
What were the options? Two women, two children and the head of the household, of course, but that one Aizen would take care of himself.
“You have two pretty, well, more or less pretty flowers to choose from. It can’t be that hard. Beauty before age?” He looked at the two females thoughtfully. No, that wasn’t very helpful. “Flip a coin? Spin around and point? It’s up to you really.” Laughing softly, he ruffled up the younger man’s hair a little and reached across the table to pull Sofia out of her mother’s arms.
“I think it’s time for the children to go to bed. It’s way past their bedtime already, isn’t it, Giulietta?” The Concavo sounded genuinely concerned, looked the part, too. However, there was a small glint in his eyes that - mocking and laughing at the desperate mother - belied his whole act.
Gin never had a particular interest with women. In fact, he probably disliked them more than he did men, and most of his view had been shaped by his wonderful mother, whom he could thankfully barely remember. She really was only good at begging and moaning.
No - there was really only one red chrysanthemum blooming in the field of weeds, and he had turned his back on that scarlet, delicate flower quite some time ago.
He walked back around the table and hopped back up on the table, sitting between the two women. Again he found himself in the position that he was in moments before, between the two men. Asking Antonio to make a decision was only putting the man on the spot - yet again - and Gin did not want to be too difficult tonight.
The wife, he had thought earlier, he would leave for last. That left him with the other pretty lady.
She was pretty - but Gin did not see and could not appreciate her beauty. It was all artificial - a façade, just like him and his smiles.
"Y'know... I really hate women," Gin said quietly. He pressed a serrated edge of his blade against her cheek, and watched the tears trickle down her cheek, some of it splashing on the bloody surface of the knife, washing the blood away in small, thin rivulets. He really wanted to just cut her face off and hear her scream, and it was taking every bit of self-restraint he had to just hold the blade there, to just be as still as the night.
"They... complicate things... a lot."
Telling the girl to stand still, Aizen refastened the ties around Giulietta’s wrists and muttered, “He’s very fond of cookies. Maybe he’ll go easy on you if you offer him some. Don’t have any? That’s too bad.”
If looks could kill, the Concavo would have withered away instantly. If.
As he wrapped his arm around Sofia and rose to his feet, his gaze settling on Gin, admiring the self-restraint his silver fox was displaying. Sousuke shook his head lightly and smiled softly to himself.
‘Growing up and learning how to really play.’
With a soft sigh he fetched his godson from the couch and wandered upstairs with them, put them into their beds and tucked them in. He even sang them a lullaby but only got to the second line before two soft popping sounds allowed his voice to trail off.
Aizen returned into the living-room, his hands busy detaching the silencer, and smirked at Antonio. “They fell asleep instantly. Such wonderful children,” he chuckled, eyes lighting up with amusement at the muffled cry of outrage. “Calm down. You’ll see them soon enough.”
Characters: Gin Ichimaru (lcpdragonslayer), Sousuke Aizen (formative)
Timeline: 24 December 1939
Rating: NC-17 (blood, violence)
Summary: Aizen and Gin give Antonio a first rate demonstration of how proper house-cleaning is supposed to be done. Aizen becomes Don and Gin gets a fire engine.
It was the season of love and peace. Families gathered at warmly illuminated homes, settling around tables covered with plates filled with delicious looking and smelling dishes. There would be a beautifully decorated tree, hovering protectively over piles of merrily wrapped presents of all sizes. The father was running a little late. Heavily packed with more presents for his lovely family, he rushed down the snow-covered path towards his house. His wife and his mother would certainly scold him for making them wait.
Pushing the door open, the man entered the house, smiling as he inhaled the scent of home-made cooking and felt the warmth of his home gently embraced him. “I’m home!” he called out, shedding his coat and picked up the presents to make his way into the living-room, wondering why none of his children had come out to greet him.
“Giulietta? Why’s it so quiet? Somebody put on some music! S’Christmas ‘n not a funeral…”
Boxes wrapped in shiny paper, adorned with pretty bows dropped to the ground at the sight that greeted him.
When a man came home for Christmas dinner, he didn’t expect to find his mother lying on the floor next to her second son, his brother, their necks twisted at an awkward angle, and the rest of his family gagged and bound to the chairs surrounding the dinner table. His wife and his sister were sobbing quietly through their gags, their eyes red and puffy. His remaining three brothers didn’t dare look at him.
The children… Where were his children?
“Good evening, Antonio,” a warm voice laced with light amusement greeted the father who stood frozen on the spot. “I hope you don’t mind us dropping by. Gin was bored and I’ve always enjoyed spending time with your lovely family.”
Slowly the Italian turned his head towards the source of the soft chuckling and paled.
In his home, sitting comfortably on the couch with Antonio’s two blindfolded children were Gin Ichimaru and Sousuke Aizen who was holding the third child, an infant, in his arms.
“What are ya doin’ here? What do ya…” Antonio’s already shaky voice broke when Aizen rose from his seat and walked towards him.
“Why don’t you take a seat,” the taller man suggested with a gentle smile and the Italian complied with the request, slumping down into an armchair heavily. “Here, the little one would be more comfortable with his father.” Sousuke put the infant into its parent’s arms.
It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t breathing. Its skin was grey.
Before Antonio could scream, Aizen clamped hand over the man’s mouth and forced his head back. “Shh, don’t make a sound, Toni. You don’t want to scare the other children, do you?”
The Italian stared at the other man and managed to shake his head against the iron grip on his jaw. “Please, Sou,” he whispered hoarsely when he was released, “please, let them go. They got nothin’ to do with this.”
“I can’t do that, I’m afraid.” Sousuke leaned forward to look Antonio straight in the face. “You see,” he continued, his usually warm gaze hard and cold. The sitting man remembered those eyes from the past and he felt his heart drop. “Gin’s had a tough month so I thought I’d give him something nice for Christmas.” The smile widened a fraction. “And since you’re responsible for the lousy weeks we’ve had, you should compensate us, don’t you think?” The Concavo picked something up from the couch before he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and shoved it into the father’s mouth. “Try not to scream.”
Antonio never saw what was coming. Suddenly, excruciating pain spread from his knees up his legs and twisted his gut around. High pitched sounds from the dining-table drifted towards him but didn’t really reach his ears, his own muffled howling drowning everything else out.
“Stage is yours, Gin.” Sousuke looked over his shoulder at the younger man and smirked as he dropped the wooden baton on the ground and patted Antonio’s shattered kneecap gently. “Don’t feel like you have to hold back,” he added teasingly.
It was almost Christmas.
Gin used to hate Christmas. It was cold out on the streets, and hardly anyone was around for Gin to sell matchboxes to or shine shoes for. And while everyone was laughing and happy and celebrating with family, Gin was alone in the darkness, trying to stop his pale little hands from shaking from the sheer cold.
Christmas was a time of suffering for him, while everyone was enjoying the winter season, while the other kids had loads of presents and had snowball fights.
Christmas was God's way of laughing down at him, and all he wanted to do was cut up that smiling, patronising face, or rip it apart with his bare hands.
Some things have changed since then.
It was difficult to stay seated there and wait for Antonio to come home when all Gin wanted to do was shed more blood and cause more pain. Behind slits of eyes were scintillating blue irises laced with sheer excitement and an uninhibited lust for blood.
But it was alright - he had a little kid sitting next to him to play with. A child who was shivering and making quiet sobbing noises.
When Aizen was done, Gin got to his feet, stretching from one side to the other. He walked around to the other side of the dining table, and climbed onto it, standing on the tabletop, surveying the scene.
So many choices...
The women, he would leave for later. They were often the most dramatic, and the best one - the wife, of course - should be saved for last. That left him with three petrified men to choose from.
Gin chose the one in the middle, and stood on the table in front of him. The man lifted his head a little before looking up to the smiling face peering down at him. Reaching over behind the man, Gin pulled the chair out a little.
It gave him enough room to sit down in the man's lap. The silver fox squirmed and adjusted a little to make himself comfortable, straddling the man who seemed to find Gin's shirt more interesting than his face.
"Yer jus' like 'im, aren't ya?" Gin asked, lifting the man's chin so that their eyes met. The fear dancing in those eyes...
"Won't even look at me 'cuz I'm trash."
The man swallowed hard and shook his head, sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Ya don't have to lie. I'd prefer it if ya told me the truth, y'know, even tho' I don't need ya ta remind me."
Gin pulled out his favourite serrated switchblade and flicked it open, revealing the gleaming metal. He brought it to the side of the man's face, pressing it against his cheek. Those petrified eyes widened, the skin was quivering under Gin's blade and Gin could feel the heartbeat pounding away from the man beneath him.
Applying a bit of pressure, he cut into the cheek, and he drew a thick line of blood down the man's cheek. There was a startled cry, but it was nothing compared to the pained scream Gin drew when he twirled the blade in his hand and drove it through the man's shoulder.
Releasing the handle, Gin cupped one hand against the unharmed cheek while the other continued to hold the chin up. He leaned in and licked a long trail up the wound, the fresh, warm blood pouring over his tongue.
No - this was not a funeral. It was going to be carnage.
Crying children were such a pitiful sight to behold. With a quiet sigh, Aizen lifted the boy, his godson, off the couch and settled him in his father’s lap. A series of whimpers escaped Antonio who was doing his best not to scream out loud when the weight of his son caused another wave of fresh, sharp pain surge through him.
The Italian was gripping the small corpse in his arms so hard his knuckles turned white. If the baby hadn’t been dead already, it would have been screaming its little throat hoarse by now. What a shame…
He reached for Toni’s tie and dabbed at the fine sheen of perspiration gently, watching with mild interest how the face muscles twitched and the handkerchief got soaked with saliva. “Toni, Toni, you’re being rude. Again.” Sighing, Sousuke grabbed a fistful of black hair and tugged at it as his gaze settled on the spectacle at the dining table. “I know you’re in pain but we did set this up for your viewing pleasure, too.”
The pained scream Gin drew out of his current toy made the small girl cry harder. She reached up to pull off her blindfold but was stopped by a large hand closing around her tiny wrists. “You promised not to take it off, little girl,” the Concavo chided her gently. “Santa doesn’t like children who break their promises.” The sobbing turned into soft gasps and hiccups and the girl was rewarded with a pat on the head.
“Keep your eyes open, Toni,” Aizen said lightly, turning his gaze away from his silver-haired wraith feasting on his prey to look at his own. “Unless you think you’d enjoy having your eyelids sliced off.” Dark eyelashes fluttered open, revealing eyes wide with panic.
Laughing softly, Sousuke settled on the armrest and draped his arm across the back of the chair. “Don’t look at me. The show’s happening over there. You should wave your little brother goodbye while he’s still conscious. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
Whether it be the blood of the most guilty of sinners, or the blood of the purest, most innocent, it all tasted the same. Copperish, slightly viscous, mildly sour - not a taste an ordinary tongue is used to, but for Gin it was the sweetest honey he could ever savour. Every droplet of blood he swallowed was a droplet of life seeping away from the body he was sitting on, and to be able to be the one to end that life...
Gin moaned quietly as the man gave a frustrated and resigned groan, pulling away a little, licking his lips.
"Y'know, I had two reasons fer learnin' how ta read n' write. S'difficult once ya get past a certain age n' all, but I was thinkin' ta myself -"
Gin silenced the whimpering by ripping the blade out of the flesh, earning another scream as blood torrented out of the wound, down the shirt and towards the floor.
"- Mista Aizen was nice enough ta want ta teach me, n' he said it'll come in handy. And it has, now that I have this... day job at the office. That's one reason..."
Leaning back a little so Gin could properly see what he was doing, the tip of the blade sliced through the shirt the man was wearing. The two sides of the shirt flapped over to the sides, revealing a sweat-slicked chest heaving with the effort to breathe, heaving with fear.
"N' my second reason was that I could show people like you what trash like me is capable of."
The Capo Bastone started to carve his name into the man's chest, one hand gripping onto the throat to try and stifle the bloodcurdling screams, and also to stop too much body jerking movements. Blood spurted out onto Gin's hands, onto his shirt, onto his face, and his sinister smile widened into something more maniacal.
When 'GIN' was nicely inscribed into the body, the man was barely alive, desperately clinging onto threads of life.
Most of those threads were severed when Gin drove the blade through the body again, one of the serrated edges of the knife scraping against bone.
Resting his hands on the man's shoulders, Gin leaned in to whisper in his ear.
"Does it hurt?"
Aizen was a little disappointed that Antonio didn’t even try to wave at his dying sibling. “Where’s that strong family bond you keep bragging about, hm? The one I ‘just don’t get’ because I’m not Italian. I’m not impressed, yet.” He yanked the dead infant out of the vice-like grip of its father and dropped it on the floor before he lifted Toni’s hand for him and waved it around.
“Doesn’t that make you feel better now?”
A muffled cry was the only answer Sousuke got but it was enough. He wasn’t here for witty conversation, after all. Smiling he stuck a cigarette between his lips and patted his pockets in search of a lighter. He found matches instead.
“Gin’s very talented. It’s a pity you never managed to see it.” The Concavo struck a match and lit his cigarette, blowing out a stream of blue smoke which curled around his godson’s head. “Of course, you never even bothered to look for all the good sides, being too fixated on your unreasonable jealousy.” The still burning matchstick hovered dangerously close to the father’s face.
“Blow it out for me?”
It was impossible to fulfil that request and they both knew it. Aizen chuckled, the look on his face almost apologetic when he extinguished the flame by pushing the stick into Antonio’s cheek. Muffled screams were so unsatisfactory and this was going to be the last time he’d hear his partner scream, after all. Maybe he should remove the make-shift gag, he pondered, as he took in the beautiful sight of his second-in-command in front of him.
“You wouldn’t expect it but red really suits him, don’t you think, Toni?” Long fingers curled around the Italian’s chin and directed his gaze towards the silver fox. “Look at the last thing your family will see before they pass over to the other side. It’ll give you something to talk about in hell.”
Gin pulled back to look at the man's face and listen to the reply, but when nothing coherent came, his wide smile faded a little. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and dull blue irises locked on with the man's, instilling more fear to the point where tears were trickling from the edges of the man's eyes.
There was nothing in Gin's eyes. He may have been smiling, and his irises may be glistening with excitement from all the blood and screams, but the man had known from the moment their gazes locked.
He was looking into the face of a fearless, bloodthirsty, unfeeling monster.
"Y'know, they say everyone's good at sommin'. Some people're good at drawin', some people're good wit' numbers, some people're good wit' instruments..."
Using a thumb to tilt the man's head back, Gin turned the head to one side, exposing the neck and the throbbing carotid artery. The Adam's apple bobbed against his hand as he leaned in to kiss the blood vessel, sucking on it affectionately.
"Believe it or not, even someone like me can be good at sommin'," he murmured almost sultrily, pressing himself closer against the man's body, feeling the warmth from the body slipping away.
Gin licked a combination of tears, sweat and blood off the man's skin, his hand smoothly moving from under the man's chin to covering his mouth firmly, his other hand gripping onto the handle of his switchblade.
"I don't like to boast, but uh... I'm good at killin' people."
Dark eyes widened, and in one swift motion, Gin ripped the knife out and sliced through the front of the man's throat, his execution precise to the point of cutting through exactly half of the windpipe. Blood splattered everywhere, crimson liquid splashing onto his face, into silver hair, onto his arm, onto the table. The Capo Bastone's hands fell to his sides, resting on the outsides of the man's thighs.
Leaning back, Gin stole a glance at Mister Aizen and Antonio before returning his gaze to the dying man he was sitting on, smirking as the man started to have a spasm, grinning as he gurgled and blood spilled out of his throat, chuckling lightly when the man made choking, snorting-like noises.
This year, Christmas was turning out to be a spectacular occasion.
When the man finally finished dying his slow, painful death, Gin climbed off to the side. He pulled the chair down backwards, letting the dead man fall to the ground with the chair.
The table looked much more tidy and uncluttered this way. The Capo Bastone moved to sit on the table, swinging his legs casually, turning his head slowly from the brother sitting to his left to the other brother on his right. Gin was thoroughly enjoying himself - to the point where there was a mildly noticeable bulge in his pants. There was blood dripping from Gin's chin and hair, and a hand covered in warm, fresh blood drove the switchblade through the table, splintering the wood, splattering more blood onto the tablecloth.
"Who's next? Any volunteers? Don't be shy now - maybe ya won't die such a painful death if ya nominate yerself ta go next."
“Oh no, he’s bleeding from the throat,” Aizen breathed, sounding more amused than anything else when Gin’s first plaything broke. “Do you want me to call an ambulance for him?” His gaze met Antonio’s appalled and horror-stricken eyes. “No? Well, I don’t think they could do anything for him, either.” With a light shrug the dark-haired man flicked some ash off his cigarette and stuck it back between his smiling lips.
Sousuke had anticipated a deep sense of satisfaction when he and Gin planned this little happening together. He had not, however, expected to have so much… fun. This, all of this, he’d set up and designed for Gin’s pleasure and not his own.
It was a rather interesting discovery.
“If you need help deciding, I’m sure Toni here or one of the kids could lend a hand, Gin.”
Aizen’s suggestion was met with a chorus of muffled protest from their hostages. Soft laughter bubbled up and spilled from his lips. It was a warm and happy sound. Utterly inappropriate and offensive given their surroundings - yet it was kind of beautiful.
As interesting Mister Aizen's suggestion sounded, Gin would not torment the children. They didn't need the blood of one of their relatives on their hands before their lives were ended. Though he did not mind tormenting children, Gin took no delight or pleasure in it.
After all, even a bloodthirsty hound like Gin Ichimaru was ultimately human, and he had his likes, dislikes, limitations and reasons.
His gaze lingered on Mister Aizen for a moment before shifting over to Antonio. It was all the more a delightful occasion that Mister Aizen was visibly enjoying himself, too. It would not have been as fun if Gin was the only one reaping the benefits of this... entertainment.
"Sounds good," he said, hopping off the table, approaching Antonio. Gin leaned against the edge of the table, folding his arms, smearing the blood across his shirt and other sleeve. The switchblade had been left in the table deliberately. It wasn't like any of the Italians were in the mood to scramble for it and try to prolong or escape the inevitable.
"Whaddaya say, boss? One grunt fer the bo behind me, two fer the one further away. I'll take silence fer 'please pick up the baton n' smash my other knee'. N' who knows - maybe I'll listen to ya this time."
The silver fox had always been the softer one of them, Aizen thought, and smiled at Gin. It was funny how people always misjudged the pair, thinking that they fared safer if they stuck to the mild-mannered dark-haired man instead of the grinning silver head.
Not that either of them stood for stability and safety but Sousuke Aizen, unlike Gin Ichimaru, enjoyed bringing pain and death to young and old alike.
Indiscriminately.
“Antonio. You’re doing it wrong.” Sousuke sighed at the man, who was releasing a string of grunts, some of which sounded suspiciously like curses, and rose from his position on the armrest, casually pulling his godson with him by the scruff of the boy’s neck. He set the boy down, cocking an eyebrow when the child didn’t scramble away but clung to his leg instead.
The Concavo put his hand on top of the small head and stroked it gently. “One grunt for brother number three, and two for brother number five. It’s not that hard, a retriever could do it. Try again,” he said in an encouraging manner.
However, either the Italian had already lost what little intelligence he possessed, or he simply didn’t want to understand because he just kept grunting like a demented pig.
“Stop wasting our time, please. I know it’s a tough decision to make but you’re all going to die so why not take Gin up on his offer and pick the one you like more so he can be released from his misery a little earlier than the others, hm? You’re still as indecisive as back then when we started out. It’s almost cute.” Moving around the chair, Aizen gently detached the child clinging to his leg and positioned it in front of its father. “Let me help you out.” He kept his eyes, two cold glittering pieces of amber, trained on Toni and covered the boy’s mouth with his hand.
“I really don’t want to hurt you,” he purred at his godson as his index finger and thumb pinched the child’s nostrils together, effectively cutting off its air supply. “But your father is such a stubborn mule that I have no other choice.” The child struggled and clawed at its godfather’s hand desperately.
“One or two, Toni? I’d hurry up if I were you or you’ll lose another child.”
Two choked grunts made it past the gag. Smiling Aizen released the boy and shoved him back towards his father.
"Two it is~" Gin said, spinning and waltzing over to the youngest of the Italian brothers. He jumped back onto the table, taking a seat next to the unfortunate young man. He was only a little older than Gin - a young, handsome, intelligent, educated man with bright future prospects. Chances were that this man knew nothing about Antonio's dirty business. It was equally common to exclude family members from Mafia business as it was to include them, and exclusion often meant that they knew absolutely nothing about what went on under the table.
"Don't look so sad. Ultimately, it was yer brother who was the one to choose yer fate, n' not me. He knew this was comin' - or, at least, he shoulda."
You don't try to assassinate Sousuke Aizen and expect to walk away unscathed.
A bloody hand gripped onto the young man's throat loosely, leaving a crimson handprint. Gin placed his index and middle fingers over the throbbing pulse and leaned in.
"How does it feel?" he asked, tilting his head, smiling mildly.
"Ah - silly me. Perhaps I should remove the gag first, hm?"
Boney fingers danced around to the back of the young man's head, undoing the gag, letting the damp piece of cloth drop to the floor. The mouth moved, but Gin was quick to silence it by grabbing the young man's throat again, gripping tightly this time to cut off the air supply for a moment.
The Capo Bastone leaned in, his face hovering mere inches away from the young man, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.
"How does it feel?" Gin asked again, his warm breath dancing on the young man's lips. "Someone - something like me... I've lost the ability to feel for a while now. If our positions were swapped, y'know, I'd be sittin' there with my hands tied down n' still I'd be smilin', like this. Life's too short to be frownin' n' grumpy all the time."
He pressed his lips against quivering ones, and an incoherent, strangled noise was lost in what could vaguely be construed as a kiss of death.
"Can ya teach me how ta not smile?"
“Do you think they hate you now? Your precious family.” Aizen cast a sideways glance at Antonio. “Did you even think of what might happen to them when you acted on your petty needs and tried to kill Gin?” Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he dropped it on the floor and stepped on it.
“Or did you really believe you could get away with it? You never were good at keeping your desires in check and now you’ve brought suffering to the ones who trust and rely on you. You’re not a very good head of the family. I’d be so disappointed.”
Soft mocking laughter mingled with the choked whimpering and sobbing coming from the dining table.
“Make good use of the time you have left, Toni. Think of something nice to say to your pretty wife. I think she deserves a few kind parting words for standing by your side so faithfully for all those years. It’s the least you can do for killing her and making her children grow up as orphans.”
The Italian’s eyes widened. His children would grow up as orphans? That meant that… they would live. Lifting his gaze from the softly crying boy in his arms, he stared at his ex-business partner, feeling his eyes grow moist. He’d assumed that Sou intended to… he’d killed the baby, after all, but now…
The smile on the Concavo’s face softened when he saw the flicker of hope and gratitude in the father’s eyes. Cupping the other man’s neck, he leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
“What’s wrong, Toni?” he whispered, eyes warm and gentle again. “Did you think I’d take the life of my godson and his sister, too?” The Italian nodded. “Will you believe me if I say I won’t?” Antonio nodded again and squeezed his eyes shut as relief washed over him. At least his offspring would…
“Oh, Toni,” Aizen sighed and brushed his thumb over the father’s cheek. “You really shouldn’t.”
Sliding his hand around the thick neck, Sousuke squeezed it to cut off the outraged howl and glanced over his shoulder at the silver fox. “How’s the young one, Gin?”
Gin pulled back from the kiss and tilted his head a little.
"Not as talkative as I expected," the Capo Bastone noted. He was half-expecting the man's mouth to start shooting off as soon as he removed the gag, maybe with a string of Italian curses or a haphazard pile of begs, pleads and sobs.
Instead, there was nothing. After the fear came just the resigned look in those eyes.
Gin was not exactly impressed.
He slipped his fingers into the young man's mouth, much to the Italian's surprise. His thumb, index and middle fingers gripped onto a slimy tongue and pulled it out, holding it there tightly.
Now the man was starting to try to talk and reclaim his tongue, showing obvious discomfort. Fear was reignited in those eyes as Gin reached around with his free hand to rip his switchblade out of the table.
"Presumin' yer Catholic n' not an atheist, y'know God made us like this and gave us things for a reason - like yer tongue, fer example. He gave us - or, well, most of us - tongues so that we could eat properly n' use it to talk."
He pressed the edge of the blade against the Italian man's tongue, much to his horror. Even though he wanted to protest, every movement his tongue made was tempting a cut from the sharp edge of the blade. There were only uncontrolled sobs and half-choked noises.
"If ya ain't gonna use yer tongue, there ain't no point in keepin' it, is there?"
Gin's hand moved in a flash, severing the tongue off and letting the limp muscle fall to the floor. A long, loud scream echoed through the room, renewing the family's tears, renewing their resignation in the desperation and helplessness in the situation.
Bony fingers curled into dark clumps of hair, and he tilted the young Italian's head down so that all the blood would pour out, so that he would not choke to death on his own blood.
"Well," Gin said, grinning as he looked over to Aizen, raising his voice a little so that he could be heard over the screams that had died down into pained howls and groans.
"Won't be talkin' anymore but at least he's making some noise."
“That’s good. Silence is so depressing.” Aizen actually grinned back at the silver-haired man. He was glad to see that Gin was enjoying himself so much and to think that they owed this pleasure to the very man who’d made their lives miserable for the past month. It was delightfully amusing.
“And you keep saying that he’s the quiet one in your family.” Shaking his head, the Concavo picked up the boy who had gone awfully silent all of a sudden and sat him down next to the little girl before he crossed the room to take a closer look at Gin’s handiwork.
Coming to a halt behind Antonio’s wife, he put a hand on her shaking shoulder and squeezed it lightly. Poor woman didn’t deserve this. She was a very kind person and he genuinely liked her. She did make the best turkey in three states, after all.
The hand travelled from the woman’s shoulder up her neck and into her chestnut hair, eliciting a soft whimper from her as he idly toyed with a wisp of hair. “I told your husband to retire when your son was born,” Sousuke told her, “but he wouldn’t listen. That has always been his biggest flaw. He doesn’t listen to people. When he listens, however, he doesn’t understand it. When he understands, he fails to act. When he finally acts, he messes up and won’t admit his mistakes. Even feels wronged when I call him out on it.”
Sighing he leaned against the table and looked at the blood-smeared face of his silver fox. His eyes traced the lazy smile on Gin’s lips before they lifted their gaze to meet eyes the colour of the sky.
“There’s not much you can do to help such a person and I’m deeply sorry that you have to endure this, Giulietta. Bear with us just a little longer? It’ll be over soon. I promise.”
The poor young Italian man was not going to live for much longer now. Blood was gushing out of his mouth much like a waterfall, splashing down onto his lap, and Gin was not doing anything to stop the bleeding or prolong his life.
When everything went relatively quiet for a moment, save for the laboured breaths and groans of pain, Gin slipped his fingers under the chin and tilted that head back up, peering into eyes scintillating with pain and fear. Those eyes were much more animated now than they had been before, and even though blood was dripping down from the edges of his lips, even though blood was everywhere and life was slowly slipping away from the space between weak, trembling fingers, there was a morsel of defiance and desperation to live.
Futile - but that was probably what it meant to be human. Someone like Gin wouldn't know for sure.
"Are ya afraid?"
The head nodded slowly, glistening irises looking up at the Capo Bastone as if they could reach inside the monster and rekindle his heartbeat. A valiant but useless effort, again - but Gin appreciated the sentiments nonetheless.
"Of what? Death?"
That gaze dropped, shifting to the side for a moment in contemplation. Slowly, tentatively, the head shook.
"Hmm. Not death? That's interestin'... then, maybe... yer afraid of Mista Aizen?"
Dark irises shifted over to examine the older man at the other side of the table. The gaze quickly lowered, though Gin kept the head held relatively high.
The head shook again, seeking eyes settling back on Gin's face.
"Ah... So, that must mean yer afraid of me."
Gin could feel the muscles tense up, and finally he managed to draw a nod. The Capo Bastone started laughing, and he leaned in, his face hovering inches away from the young man's as his hand slipped up to caress the Italian's cheek.
"Silly boy," he whispered. "I'm not the one ya should be 'fraid of."
“Don’t believe a word he says.” Pushing away from the table, Aizen left Giulietta wallowing in her misery and approached the young man whose miserable existence would come to an end soon. What a lucky boy he was!
“You should be very afraid of him. He’s the one you should fear the most.” Since the puddles of blood had spread out and melded into a large black pool on the floor, making it impossible not to step into it, he didn’t pay much attention to where he was walking. “Mister Ichimaru likes to tell lies,” the dark-haired man added, his voice a low purr as he brushed his fingertips against the Italian’s other cheek.
“He has such a clever tongue - that Mister Ichimaru - and he tells lies so pretty that you want them to be true.” Sousuke smiled mildly at their mute prey, nothing but warmth and care reflecting in his eyes. Slowly he curved his fingers around its chin and brushed his thumb across its bloodied lips. “But so do I.” The smile turned into a cruel little smirk as he dipped his thumb into the empty cavern and pressed it hard against the crippled muscle.
The young man screamed again but not as loud as before.
“His vocal chords are going to give out soon,” Aizen observed dispassionately, adding a little more pressure to see how much longer it would take before the Italian’s voice would break.
Gin sat there on the table, watching Mister Aizen's hand, smiling for all the world like he was a little boy giddy with excitement and happiness that came with the festive season. Gin only really lied when he felt like he had to - but he certainly was not below bending and twisting the truth to his benefit.
Wouldn't get very far as a Mafioso if he had any real sense of righteousness - or, at least, righteousness as the rest of the world defined it.
The straining voice was alternating between a high and normal pitch, wavering and crackling. It was not a particularly pleasant noise, but the bittersweetness of it was what made it so gratifying.
An ensanguined hand held the serrated switchblade out to Aizen, blood dripping from the back of his hand, splashing onto the dinner table. It was not too often that the older man took time out to do things like these, and after all Gin was offering to bring more genuine smiles to his face.
“SOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
The enraged outcry was followed by a heavy thud and a flood of threats and insults. Aizen turned his head to confirm visually what he already knew: Antonio had finally realised that he wasn’t tied up; that he could get out of the chair if he wanted to. However, one would think that he knew how a shattered knee would hamper his walking abilities.
Shooting the man sprawled out on the floor a slightly contemptuous look, Sousuke took the knife from Gin’s hand and rammed it unceremoniously through the little brother’s eye. No need to drag it out further. The moment was spoilt.
“Why is it,” he sighed at Gin as he pulled the blade out, feeling it scrape against bone, and returned it to his silver fox, “that when he is presented with two options, he always picks the wrong one?”
He picked up a napkin. Retrieved the severed tongue. Stalked towards the still cursing Italian on the ground. Loosened his tie. Pulled it off as he crouched down, one foot crushing the bones of a sausage-fingered hand.
“That’s not how gifts should behave. You’re going to ruin our Christmas if you keep going like that.”
Not at all distracted by Antonio off to the side, Gin made a face at the knife in his hand. The life was ended all too quickly, and now there was eye goo on the serrated blade.
Gin cleaned off his knife on the dead man's shirt, wiping all the blood and other viscous substances off before kicking the chair over, knocking yet another knight off the table.
Down to the last male now.
Gin got off the table and, as he had done with the youngest brother, removed the gag, letting it fall to the floor before he circled back around to the table and sat on its edge.
"Maybe I'll get further with you, hm?"
There was anger dancing in the man's eyes, and he looked just about ready to spit in Gin's face.
"How about you?" Gin asked, lifting the Italian's chin with a portion of his blade. "How do you feel?"
"You're a sick fuck. You both are."
The Capo Bastone's grin widened.
"That's more like it."
Whatever the Italian said was drowned out by the curses Antonio kept spitting at Aizen but one didn’t have to be a genius to know that it wasn’t something flattering. “You all missed the lesson on manners, didn’t you? Ah well, I guess you had better things to do. I wonder if you’d behave better if your dear mother was still with us.”
“Ya ain’t gettin’way with this,” Toni slurred. “Without me ya wouldn’t’ve gotten dis far. They’d’ve killed ya on first sight, ya fuckin’ kike bastard. They-”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure they’ll do horrible, horrible things to me.” The Concavo silenced his ‘friend’ by shoving the napkin into his big mouth and used his tie to secure the gag more firmly. “I seriously doubt they can top this, though. Strangling people with a piano wire, shooting or drowning them in isn’t very creative. Every common street thug can do that,” he added, sounding quite cheerful as he hauled Antonio to his feet and dragged him back to the armchair.
“Doing something like this, takes a certain amount of imagination which you don’t have.” Sousuke laughed softly and patted Toni’s head. “Gin has it in abundance. That’s one of the reasons why I’ve always liked him better than you. Now, be good and don’t try to move again. Please.” Carefully, he placed the cut off piece of dead muscle in the Italian’s broken hand and wiped his fingers on the man’s sleeve.
Picking up the girl, Aizen wandered back towards the table. “I think it’s almost time for dinner, isn’t it, Giulietta? The child looks hungry. Are you hungry, Sofia?” he asked the little girl in his arm as he untied the woman and received a small nod. The mother stared at the monster holding her child, unsure what to do. “Go on. Dinner isn’t going to serve itself.”
She rose from her seat and hurried away into the kitchen. With a soft sigh, the dark-haired man lowered himself into the vacated chair and leaned back, one hand steadying the child sitting on his knee to prevent her from falling over.
With all the possibilities Gin had on how to end this young man's life, he was very much in his own world. In a world where blood dripped from the ceilings, where the silver-furred ravenous beast was gnashing at the Italian's heels, held back from tearing into him by a leash.
This world was the only world Gin ever knew. Everything else was a blur around him, everything else was incomprehensible, everything else was a lie - lies composed of promises that would never be fulfilled.
He didn't really mind, though. As enchanting as everything was, he knew who he was - he knew what he was - and he had been in this ensanguined world for so long that it hardly affected him anymore.
"Are ya scared?"
The Italian actually laughed, even though it was weak, even though it sounded a little... resigned.
"Makes no difference if I am or not - it doesn't change anything. You'd still smile, you fucking bastard, and I'd still end up dead."
Oh dear. What a pessimistic view on life. Or, at least, what was left of his life.
"Well. The ends're no real surprise, but s'always the journey that's fun." Pressing the tip of the blade against the base of the Italian's throat, Gin drew a faint line of blood down the body, over the chest, splitting the shirt in half.
With the first drop of ruby emerging from the Italian’s throat, the melody of Silent Night was hummed quietly. By the time Gin had sliced the shirt open, the little girl had stopped crying and was humming along.
“Like that song, Sofia?”
“Ye-es.”
“Would you like to sing it? For your aunt and uncle and your parents, hm?”
“Ye-es.”
The child’s voice filled the house, sweet and clear like silver chimes.
Amused brown eyes settled on the blade-wielding silver wraith and softened a little.
It was almost wrong to have mood music accompanying what they were doing tonight, but Gin didn't mind. He had never really been the one in the centre of attention - certainly was not used to it, being just a bit of dirt before, being a useful tool afterwards - but nothing could stop him from enjoying the moment.
Gin was not causing much pain, but it was rather obvious that the Italian was in discomfort. The smallest, most insignificant of wounds were often the most annoying though.
"Yer the last one of the three. Must be tough."
"Vaffanculo."
"Hey - now yer just bein' rude."
Gin drove the blade into and through the body one inch away from the heart and avoiding the main arteries, effectively pinning the Italian against the backrest of the chair, ignoring the screams and the struggles, the groans and the string of incoherent grumbles.
"Didn't yer parents teach ya how ta behave ta guests?"
“Bunch of eggs like them weren’t taught anything, it seems.” Aizen had covered the girl’s ears and shook his head disapprovingly at the stabbed Italian. “Try to restrain yourself a little in front of the children. You don’t want this to be the last memory of their uncle’s, do you?”
Giulietta returned with two plates and set them on the table. Uncertain of what she was supposed to do next, she remained standing a couple of steps away from where her daughter was, her eyes darting around nervously.
Sousuke rose from the chair, waving at the mother to indicate that he wanted her to sit back down and she reluctantly complied. “Keep singing, little canary. Your uncle’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” He deposited the singing bundle in the woman’s lap and glanced at the plates. The food looked fine - as expected.
Giving Antonio’s wife an approving smile, Sousuke pulled an empty chair with him as he sauntered towards the oldest Italian in the room. He positioned the chair next to the one Toni was sitting in and settled down comfortably.
“Where would you like to be inhumed, Toni?”
Gin should have done more to end the Italian's life, but blood was pouring out of the gaping wound and it... was mesmerising to watch. Tentatively, a shaky hand reached out to press against the chest. Blood pooled between his index finger and his thumb, and continued to trickle over his hand, back down to soak into the shirt and trickling finally to the pants.
It was warm, fresh - and it coated Gin's hand a new shade of red. It brought life and colour to a black-and-white world, colouring shades of grey with vibrant, crimson red.
The smell of food floated and masked over the putrid scent of blood. It was... a strange blend.
There was still more blood pouring out of the wound even as life was drained from the Italian, and it soaked into Gin's skin as he sat there, still, just watching.
“I’d suggest the Holy Cross Cemetery. Very beautiful. Very quiet.” Aizen’s voice was a low murmur as he folded his hands behind his neck and stretched out his legs. “It’s Catholic, too, which makes it perfect for a traditional Italian family like yours, wouldn’t you agree?”
Half-lidded eyes watched the young artist at work across the room, traced the contours, committing them to memory and slowly added the colours. The dark ones first, then the light ones and finally…
“A family crypt with one of those mourning stone angels on top to watch over you perhaps?” he continued, sliding a little deeper into his seat and tilted his head to the side when Antonio grunted. “No? Too much?”
Sousuke shrugged and unlaced his fingers. Reaching behind his back, he pulled out his gun and retrieved a silencer from his pocket. “Well, you’ll be buried separately, then. It doesn’t make much of a difference to anyone. Least of all to you.” With a curious little smile on his lips, the Concavo attached the silencer to his gun.
“Don’t lose yourself, Gin,” he called out, his voice laced with amusement as he lowered the gun to his side. “You have two more gifts to open, remember?”
There were noises in the background - familiar noises; voices of a distant past Gin should have recognised in an instant, a voice that drowned out all the other noise, such as the scraping of wood against the floor, the held breaths, the trembling exhalations, the quiet, almost inaudible whines...
It was a voice that should have reached him - a voice that should have registered. But right now, there was nothing happening outside of blood oozing out of a body, a body enshrouded in darkness.
The world outside of the body, the blood - the world enshrouded in that darkness - it didn't matter what was going on there, because nothing could be seen in the pitch-black abyss.
As Toni had so quaintly put it all those years ago - 'it was a fucking demon' that 'craved blood and unleashed hell', and perhaps Toni was right in saying that 'when it's too far gone, even you can't control it, Sou'.
Pulling the knife out, back through the front of the body, Gin let it drop to and clatter on the floor rather unceremoniously. Both of his hands rested on the dead man's chest, near the wound, and bony fingers curled, as if they were trying to pry the hole open, trying to pry the hole bigger.
It was a little… odd that Gin showed no sign of having heard Aizen.
The older man dismissed the option of calling out again and straightened up in his chair, his smile fading a little. He could see that Antonio’s brother was dead - no mortal could lose that much blood and still be alive.
‘What are you doing, little one?’
Sousuke was more curious than worried about the lack of reaction. However, when the knife was dropped and the slender frame still didn’t move on, he frowned. Getting up, he approached the silver-haired man on silent feet, tapping the muzzle of his gun against his thigh lightly.
With each step the Concavo took, the world narrowed down further. The little singing cherub was silenced by a finger pressing gently against her small mouth - an absent-minded gesture made in passing - and then she shifted out of focus as well.
One dark eyebrow arched at the sight of spindly fingers digging their way into the corpse as if they were trying to reveal a hidden treasure.
‘Where did you go?’
Placing his free hand on the table, Aizen leaned in slowly, carefully to avoid startling the silver head. “Come back to me, Gin” he whispered into the younger man’s delicate ear. “There’s nothing left for you in there. You took everything it had.”
When that voice was resonating just next to his ear, blue eyes widened. He spun his head around to face the older man, his hands frozen on the dead man's body.
That voice that he could not recognise was now the light in his world, and it illuminated everything. He was here again, in Antonio's home, sitting on his table, and he had just taken the life of the last - or, well, second-to-last - Italian son.
Gin turned again to regard the body before him. The blood had stopped flowing.
He pulled his hands away tentatively, and turned back to look at Aizen again. Blue eyes disappeared into slits, and a wide, vulpine, unreadable smile graced the Capo Bastone's face.
Hopping off the table, Gin bent over to pick up his knife.
"Who's next, Mista Aizen?"
What were the options? Two women, two children and the head of the household, of course, but that one Aizen would take care of himself.
“You have two pretty, well, more or less pretty flowers to choose from. It can’t be that hard. Beauty before age?” He looked at the two females thoughtfully. No, that wasn’t very helpful. “Flip a coin? Spin around and point? It’s up to you really.” Laughing softly, he ruffled up the younger man’s hair a little and reached across the table to pull Sofia out of her mother’s arms.
“I think it’s time for the children to go to bed. It’s way past their bedtime already, isn’t it, Giulietta?” The Concavo sounded genuinely concerned, looked the part, too. However, there was a small glint in his eyes that - mocking and laughing at the desperate mother - belied his whole act.
Gin never had a particular interest with women. In fact, he probably disliked them more than he did men, and most of his view had been shaped by his wonderful mother, whom he could thankfully barely remember. She really was only good at begging and moaning.
No - there was really only one red chrysanthemum blooming in the field of weeds, and he had turned his back on that scarlet, delicate flower quite some time ago.
He walked back around the table and hopped back up on the table, sitting between the two women. Again he found himself in the position that he was in moments before, between the two men. Asking Antonio to make a decision was only putting the man on the spot - yet again - and Gin did not want to be too difficult tonight.
The wife, he had thought earlier, he would leave for last. That left him with the other pretty lady.
She was pretty - but Gin did not see and could not appreciate her beauty. It was all artificial - a façade, just like him and his smiles.
"Y'know... I really hate women," Gin said quietly. He pressed a serrated edge of his blade against her cheek, and watched the tears trickle down her cheek, some of it splashing on the bloody surface of the knife, washing the blood away in small, thin rivulets. He really wanted to just cut her face off and hear her scream, and it was taking every bit of self-restraint he had to just hold the blade there, to just be as still as the night.
"They... complicate things... a lot."
Telling the girl to stand still, Aizen refastened the ties around Giulietta’s wrists and muttered, “He’s very fond of cookies. Maybe he’ll go easy on you if you offer him some. Don’t have any? That’s too bad.”
If looks could kill, the Concavo would have withered away instantly. If.
As he wrapped his arm around Sofia and rose to his feet, his gaze settling on Gin, admiring the self-restraint his silver fox was displaying. Sousuke shook his head lightly and smiled softly to himself.
‘Growing up and learning how to really play.’
With a soft sigh he fetched his godson from the couch and wandered upstairs with them, put them into their beds and tucked them in. He even sang them a lullaby but only got to the second line before two soft popping sounds allowed his voice to trail off.
Aizen returned into the living-room, his hands busy detaching the silencer, and smirked at Antonio. “They fell asleep instantly. Such wonderful children,” he chuckled, eyes lighting up with amusement at the muffled cry of outrage. “Calm down. You’ll see them soon enough.”