[Log] Sousuke Aizen, Gin Ichimaru

[formative]

Title: Snow, Spiced Tea, Pastries And Coffee With Foam
Characters: Aizen (formative), Gin (lcpdragonslayer)
Timeline: 1 January 1950
Rating: PG
Summary: Aizen and Gin spend New Year's Day together. There's snow, exotic food, a scary old lady and good coffee.


Another year had passed and passed far too quickly for Sousuke’s taste. Several issues he’d wanted to mark done and file away had remained unresolved and were beginning to irritate him. Standing just one step outside of his study, he glanced over to his desk. Documents, letters and reports rested on the smooth surface and were silently demanding his attention.

‘Not today.’

With a soft sigh he closed the door and continued to walk down the hallway towards Gin’s room. Having snuck away from his own New Year’s party shortly after midnight, he had no way of knowing how long the younger man had remained at Cinq last night but he assumed that Gin had been amongst the very last to leave.

Therefore, he’d decided to let the man sleep until he woke up by himself but it was past noon and he’d got tired of waiting and resisting the temptation to sit down at his desk and sort out some paperwork.

Stepping into the younger man’s room quietly, Aizen smiled at the sight that greeted him and approached the bed. Gin was still asleep, curled up on his side, face hidden behind a curtain of moonlight hair. Leaning forward the older man brushed those strands away and tucked them behind Gin’s ear.

“Gin,” he called out softly. “It’s time to wake up.”

A silver-haired man with bloodshot eyes didn't get home until something like five in the morning, and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep the day away.

In essence, since it was past noon, he already did.

But he had no way of telling, curled up, sleeping lightly on his warm, welcoming bed. He never really liked how time flew by so fast, but this year's New Years' Cinq party was far more memorable than any other.

The scene with his mystery lady replayed over and over in his mind. He remembered every little detail, everything she said, everything he said in response, and the way they quietly twirled on the dark streets, waiting for her taxi to arrive.

He was in no mood to be awakened from his scene, and so the invasion into his room went unnoticed.

In fact, everything Aizen did went unnoticed - at least, until partway through his reverie, when Aizen's voice boomed like an omnipresent loudspeaker.

'It's time to wake up.'

He furrowed his eyebrows and stirred, tensing up a little before relaxing again. Weary eyes fluttered open, and blue irises revealed themselves in thin slits. Light flooded into his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. It was morning already?

He groaned and pulled the sheets above his head, hiding.

"Shop's closed," he muttered. "Come back tomorrow..."

Aizen chuckled softly at the not exactly warm welcome. Apparently the party had been a success. How nice. He settled on the bed, careful not to disturb the grumpy fox too much, and leaned back against the headboard.

“I’m otherwise engaged tomorrow, I’m afraid,” he said, folding his hands behind his neck and cast a glance at Gin. It didn’t look as if he’d get up voluntarily any time soon.

Well, Aizen had promised to spend the day with the younger man and he intended to keep his promise but since it looked as if they wouldn’t be going out, he figured that he might as well make good use of a day in bed.

He got up, left the room only to return not five minutes later with a stack of folders under his arm and reclaimed his previous position on Gin’s bed.

Aizen's movements were making the bed wobble, constantly shifting the weight distribution, and even though Aizen was being careful, he still felt like he was on a boat riding on rocky waves.

He was aware he made Aizen promise that they would spend the day together on New Years' Day - but he hadn't expected to stay there until four in the morning, nor did he expect to meet a dazzling, mysterious lady outside Cinq twirling in the gently falling snow.

When the distinct sounds of none other than the evil that was paperwork entered his ears, his head poked out from under the sheets.

That was blasphemy - bringing paperwork to his bed.

It was also blasphemous to be doing paperwork on a public holiday.

He whined and rubbed his eyes, taking his time to sit up, yawning in the process as the sheets slipped down his upper body, pooling in and around his lap.

He reached out for a pillow and grabbed onto it. Pulling it over, he lifted it and swung it around, aiming to hit Aizen in the face.

"No worky worky on holiday."

The mattress dipped, bed sheets rustled and Aizen looked up just in time to see a pillow flying towards his face. He jerked his head to the side but it was too late to completely avoid it. It hit him across the side of his head and fell into his lap.

“Ah, you’re awake. Excellent!” he said, rubbing the side of his face.

“Since you’re up and bursting with energy, why don’t you get dressed?” He smiled, hands coming to a rest on the projectile in his lap, and tilted his head to the side. “It’s a beautiful day and it’d be a shame to waste the few hours of daylight indoors, don’t you think?”

He didn't actually mean to hit Aizen in the face. He swung the pillow with relative force under the assumption that the older man could see it flying towards him and would dodge.

Apparently not.

He groaned softly and slowly crawled out of bed, trudging to the wardrobe. Getting dressed for going out, Aizen said - or, at least, implied. It was a nice albeit cold day outside, and it would probably be a vast expanse of white. He pulled the wardrobe doors open and stared inside.

Suits, dress shirts, work shirts, casual shirts, even a few t-shirts... and then all the pants.

He eyed up the clothes as he unbuttoned his pajamas one by one. He shrugged the thin material off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Eyeing up the display, he scratched at the back of his head.

His vision was still a little blurry, and he didn't know what to wear.

"Mista Aizen," he said as he walked over to the man still sitting on his bed. He grabbed onto Aizen's hand and pulled him off, dragging him over to the cupboard.

"Pick. And hurry. It's cold."

Aizen blinked and laughed softly as he was dragged across the room by his slightly ruffled and half-asleep little fox. Coming to a halt a few steps behind Gin, he took a moment to look at the younger man. So thin. He reached out and ran a finger down the slender back, feeling every single bump of Gin’s spine.

It wasn’t lack of food. It wasn’t the restlessness that prevented the younger man from sitting still for more than five seconds. It wasn’t...

‘Still testin’ fer ya, ain’t he?’ A voice from his past whispered in his head and laughed.

Brushing it aside, Aizen stepped forward and reached into the cupboard. He picked a plain white shirt, dark grey wool trousers and a dark red sweater.

“There you go. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes,” he said, a soft smile on his lips, and ran a hand over Gin’s head lightly before he went to collect his paperwork and return it to his office.

He couldn't help but shudder when Aizen's warm fingers came into contact with his back, and he held his breath as those fingerpads trailed down his skin ever so slowly. He raised his head and looked over his shoulder, eyeing Aizen up, but chose to remain silent.

'What are you thinking about, Mista Aizen?'

He snapped back into reality as he watched Aizen shuffle through his clothes, pulling out a set for him to wear. Aizen ruffled up his already messy morning hair, and after sweeping up his work, he left.

Five minutes, huh?

He sniffed and closed the cupboard doors, donning on the white shirt. Still in his pajama pants, he dragged his feet to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash his face and make his hair look less like a tornado had swept through it.

Changing his pants and putting on the red sweater, he tossed his pajamas over his unmade bed, closed the door behind him and made his way downstairs.

He rubbed his eyes and scratched at the back of his head idly as he made his way to the living room, hands deeply seated in his pockets.

"What're we doin' today?" he half asked, half yawned.

It had begun to snow lightly. Or maybe it was just the wind sweeping up tiny snow flakes off of the trees and roofs, carrying them past the windows towards the ground in a slow and mesmerising dance.

Aizen watched the small particles of frozen water drift back and forth as if they were struggling against their ultimate fate of being united with their brothers and sisters into a big indistinguishable blob of whiteness. They wanted to remain special and unique.

‘Nothing is so common as the wish to be remarkable.’ Who had said that?

Gin’s voice shook him out of his thoughts and he turned away from the window, chuckling at the half-yawn.

“I discovered a small shop you’ll like,” he said, walking towards the silver-haired man and smiled. “It’s only a short walk away from here and the fresh air will do us good, don’t you think?”

Aizen stepped into the hall and took their coats from the hanger, handing one to his companion before he slipped into his own. When he looked out the window again, he realised that it would be wise to take an umbrella with them unless they wanted to arrive at the bazaar soaking wet. Catching pneumonia on the very first day of the new year would be rather annoying.

Reaching for an umbrella, he held the door open for Gin.

“After you.”

A small shop? Were shops even opened on New Years' Day?

Well. He supposed that it was Mista Aizen after all. The dead would wake up and cook him a four course breakfast if the boss wanted them to.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he tilted his head to one side until the bone cracked, then the other. "I don't mind doin' whatever. S'not like ya get time to spend with lil' old Gin anymore." And with that, he had slowly come to appreciate what time he could spend with the older man when he was not busy. Things have been... hectic, lately. Problems have been dragging on, new issues have arisen, and, realistically speaking, things were never going to revert to the way they were five, ten, fifteen years ago.

He took the offered coat and threw it on, slipping his hands into the sleeves.

A gust of wind blew in when Aizen opened the door. He stepped out, and immediately his mood lightened up at the vast expanse of white. Even the leafless trees were beautiful, iced with snow.

He exhaled lightly, his breath manifesting into warm vapour.

He tilted his head back and gazed at the snow gently falling from the sky. A couple of snowflakes fell on his face and melted away. He pulled a hand out of the warm confines of his pocket and held it up, watching the snow fall onto it. His pale hand could almost blend in with the white.

Cold... but nice.

A small, rueful smile tugged at Aizen’s lips as he stepped outside after Gin. Although they worked together, the opportunities of spending some time in each other’s company without business matters to discuss had dwindled away considerably over the past years. And considering the current state of affairs, it was more than likely that it would get even worse.

“We’d better make the most of today then, hadn’t we?” he said, pulling the door shut and took a deep breath.

The air was crisp and clear - so much more pleasant than the dusty, artificially heated fug indoors which made his throat scratchy and made his head ache.

Taking another deep breath, he put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and gently nudged him into motion.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

He looked down at Aizen's hand on his shoulder, his gaze lingering for a moment before he slipped his hand back into his pocket and began walking off, his shoes making a soft scuffing sound as he treaded through the thin layer of snow, sighing contentedly as he followed the no longer discernible footpath.

His smile widened at the mention of 'last night'. That lady...

The snow had been like this - gentle, light, falling, falling, falling down upon them as they twirled in the street.

"Last night was boring," he said offhandedly, his tone flat, his expression obviously mildly displeased. "They're always boring. I don't like these parties n' havin' ta pretend I'm all high-class n' stuffy." He kicked at a pile of snow on the ground, sending ice flying forward, sending some more white powder drifting and swirling into the air.

"I have ta talk funny around 'em," he added, wrinkling his nose. 'Talking funny' for Gin, of course, meant normal, proper speech for everyone else; but that, along with the façade, was challenging to pull off rather than just being himself.

Boring?

Aizen raised an eyebrow. Had Gin actually tried to be a good replacement for the lost host then by staying until the very end? It was exemplary and completely unexpected.

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. I should have told you that you were free to leave any time after midnight.” He patted the bony shoulder lightly and smiled. “I’m impressed at how well you blend in, though, Gin. But we can make Ulquiorra play host this year,” he added thoughtfully. “It’s time the boy honed his socialising skills.”

Nothing big, just basic skills like smiling for example. Ulquiorra was always so unbelievably serious. The complete opposite of Gin who was never serious. If he had had the means to mash those two personalities together, he would have done so instantly.

More snow was falling from the sky and this time it was Aizen who held out his hand to catch a few flakes.

“How long has it been since we’ve done this, Gin? A year? Two? I forget.”

He scowled. If he had known he could go after Aizen pulled a Houdini on him, he would have left right after.

But then, of course, if he had left, he would not have stayed until four in the morning. If he had left, he would not have seen the lady with the orange hair leave Cinq. If he had left, he would nave never gotten to twirl with her outside Cinq, on the streets.

And that would have been a shame, really. Because it was that incident that made his New Years' at Cinq a night that he would not easily forget.

"Ye' - don't like bein' party host. I din't get ta drink much... Maybe ya can make Ulquiorra host from now on, seein' as ya don't seem ta enjoy it either."

He looked over to Aizen, a few strands of silver falling over his face as he watched the hand outstretched to the falling snow. How long, huh... Well, what date was it today? It was sometime past noon, January the first, 1950. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and began counting with his fingers. He couldn't write worth his life, but his basic math skills weren't all too bad.

"Seven hundred n'... twen'y three days... n'... 'bout sixteen hours or so," he said. "That is, if we're talkin' 'bout Christmas night, 1948, 'cause that's the last time I remember us walkin' in the snow."

And, speaking of snow... some of it fell onto his hand while he was counting, and they left the faintest burning sensation before melting into water, seeping away. He slipped his hand back into his pocket.

"...They're like ashes, fallin' from the sky..." he said, pensively as he watched the white powder fall.

Aizen’s eyes widened at Gin’s reply and he almost missed a step as he stared at the man by his side. He hadn’t expected such an accurate answer and it made him wonder once again what went on in that pretty head.

Lifting his hand off of Gin’s shoulder, he reached out to brush the wayward strands of silver hair out of the younger man’s face and tucked it behind the almost transparent shell of a delicate ear. “You never cease to amaze me,” he muttered, cupping the back of Gin’s head and ran his thumb across the pale cheek.

“Ashes? You really think so?” The dark-haired man returned his gaze to the falling snow and tilted his head. It seemed strange to him, comparing snow to ashes but then… In other parts of the world, not too long ago, it had been ashes falling from the sky.

“I think it’s beautiful.”

‘Just like you.’

He paused, looking up to Aizen as he brushed the hair away. It had been so many years since they first met, back when he was just a little boy, back when Aizen had asked him about small-time trouble boys and backstreet dope peddlers while he worked on shining the big man's shoes.

It was still about the only things he was good at - shining shoes, peddling information, fighting and killing, and making the perfect paper aeroplane.

And now - even now, after so long - it was as if nothing had changed. He was still the little boy, struggling but reasonably happy, a nobody, in front of Mister Aizen, who had come so far, who had become somebody.

He still felt little, under Aizen's gaze.

And while most people would have felt intimidated or unhappy, he didn't quite mind. He was still reasonably happy, and even though sometimes he had to do things he did not quite like, at the end of the day, it made Aizen happy. Aizen had big goals, big dreams, big ambitions - But Gin? He just wanted to be happy.

Beautiful, huh?

"Well... I guess it is, even though it's... sad."

If someone had asked Sousuke Aizen, child of poor immigrants turned successful businessman and head of the most influential crime family, whether he was happy, he would have smiled cryptically at them and asked them what they thought. The truth was that he rarely thought in terms of happy or unhappy but if he thought about it carefully, he could point out moments in his life that deserved to be labelled ‘happy’.

Moments spent on a small bench by a pond, conversations held over matchboxes and a tin of polish, extended strolls on crisp winter days - small moments which existed in a small vacuum in his memory, completely separated from those revolving around his daily life.

“Sad?” He blinked. “Why?”

‘Talk to me, Gin. Let me hear that voice of yours. I hear it so rarely these days.’

"You don't find it sad?" he asked, his gaze never leaving the skies where the ashes fell from. "If they were ashes, that is..." He was never particularly eloquent, but he still had an appreciation for pretty things, things which made him feel one way or the other.

"Ashes are... remains - not only of people, but ultimately, of ev'rythin' else... like paper, or charcoal, or rocks, or leaves, or even plastic... Ultimately, at the end o' the day, we are no diff'rent from ev'rythin' else in this world... When we die, and we get burnt, we end up being the same as when ev'rythin' else becomes useless and get burnt - ash."

He sighed, still walking, still stepping onto the ashes, on the remains, on what once was but no longer is.

"N', ya think, with life bein' so long, n' hard, n' full of sufferin'... Ya'd want to be sommin' else. Ya'd wanna be remembered fer what ya did... fer ev'rythin' ya had ta go through... ya'd wanna be happy, finally, n' leave this place..."

A weak smile played on his face. He didn't realise how much he was talking, how he was thinking out loud.

"But then... yer stuck here; ashes fallin' from the sky, litterin' all over the ground... N' ya get stepped on... rolled into balls and thrown at people... swept away... evaperated... only ta get thrown back down again next year."

"Ya wanna be recognised as better than a piece o' paper, but, really... yer not."

And, in that sense, perhaps it was good that snow was snow, and ashes were ashes. It would be a real tragedy if snow were ashes.

Aizen remained silent and for a while the sound of snow getting crushed under their soles was the only sound to be heard. His gaze grew distant.

‘Whose life are you describing, Gin?’

Dying, dissolving into the ground, perhaps returning as part of something different was the natural course of all living things. It was not particularly sad in his eyes, nor was it something he thought he should feel sorry for. Death happened to everyone - the rich and the poor, the young and the old - and then it was all over. That was what he thought.

“I see…” he finally said, opening the umbrella to shield them from the falling snow. “But maybe it only seems sad when you’re still on this side of the line. I imagine that when you die, when you are no longer part of this world, when you are free of its boundaries, the suffering and the pain, when you are standing on the outside looking in, you will forget all the toil and trouble you went through. And realise that there’s only one thing you truly desire.

“To be allowed to come back.” He paused, smiling softly and caught another couple of snowflakes in his outstretched palm. “If only as a small and insignificant flake of snow or ash. Someone might catch you and appreciate your beauty. Perhaps even someone who’s touched your life before?”

“If I died today and were given the chance to return, I’d gladly accept it.” Something in Aizen’s eyes flickered but he covered it up with a broad smile and averted his gaze.

“Wouldn’t you?”

A weak smile played on his face. It was a good question, actually. Would he accept an offer of returning here when he died?

He swallowed. Maybe.

Death should mean more to him that it did, but the reality was, running around in the streets, rummaging for food, struggling through the harsh nights just to live for one more day, just to take one more breath, just to smile one more time... Living amongst garbage - being garbage - where everything around him rotted, wilted and died...

Life was overrated.

“It depends, but... When I die... I don’t think I’d want ta come back,” he said softly. There was too much - just too much that he had to deal with, being alive. He always had to look over his shoulder, always had to double-check himself and what he was doing, always had to force people to do things they didn’t particularly want to - or kill them if they refused. And sometimes, in this line of work, he had to push people into a corner, to make people live through what he did, as a kid - and that was one of the things which he did that he could never forgive himself for. He was tired - tired of having to do all this, of all the false pretences, of the lies and misery.

“But if I came back as a flake o’ snow... or ash... and Mista Aizen would reach out, like that, ta catch me... ta touch me, one more time, n’ look at pretty lil’ me fer that one second ‘fore I melt away... I wouldn’t mind.” He turned to look at Aizen and his smile widened.

‘Would you like me to, Mista Aizen?’

Hearing Gin say that he wouldn’t mind returning if he could share the same fate as the droplets of water clinging to Aizen’s fingers… It was strangely comforting.

“I’m honoured,” he said, lifting his chin to meet Gin’s gaze and returned the smile. “However, while I have no doubt that you would be a very pretty snowflake I’d rather you remained in this form as long as I’m still around.”

This life they led, it was certainly not what a child imagined when it thought of the future. Yet, this was the only life they had. He knew it was not perfect but he believed that this reality was the best possible of all realities someone like him could have. However, whether Gin felt the same had never really crossed his mind.

They arrived at their destination, a small spice bazaar. It didn’t look extraordinary from the outside. There shop window was a little smudgy and the letters spelling the name of the shop - ‘Shadhiyah’ - were hardly discernible anymore but when Sousuke pulled the door open, they were greeted by the more than pleasant smell of manifold spices. Their alluring and seductive scents seemed to reach out and wrap their invisible, fragrant tendrils around the two men, begging them to come inside and stay a while.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

He took his time taking in the rush of mixed smells, of aromas from different spices, all melded together. The scent felt almost solid, as if they were dancing on his palette.

Hungry? He wrinkled his nose.

"We've been over this. Our ideas of 'hungry' aren't the same. Ya never believe me when I say I'm hungry cause I'm full after a grilled sammich..."

Mmm... Toasted sammiches...

He stepped inside, immediately shrugging his coat off as the heat set in.

"So, what's fer lunch?"

An ancient looking woman came shuffling out and gave them a toothless smile. She gestured for them to sit down at the table by the window and yelled something in a language foreign to both men. A grumpy looking boy poked his head out from behind the curtain separating the store area from the kitchen, eyed the two customers and vanished behind it. Loud banging could be heard and the old woman rushed away.

“Well, I’m not sure.” Aizen folded his coat and draped it over the back of his chair before he settled down. “I think they serve food based on what they believe a customer should eat. It’s an interesting concept. Maybe we could give it a try at Cinq?” he added, glancing out the dirty window.

Through one of the few semi-clean streaks he saw a black car pull up and come to a stop on the opposite side of the street. FBI or NYPD, the man wondered, a small frown marring his forehead. What were they hoping to gain by following him and Gin around today? It was New Year’s Day. People spent it at home with their family and loved ones.

The old woman and the boy appeared, both carrying trays laden with plates of various sizes. Somehow they managed to cram them all onto the small table between Gin and Sousuke. The boy took the tray from his grandmother and shuffled away while the old woman pointed her bony finger at the dishes and tried to explain in heavy accented and broken English what they were.

“Dis fiat. Bread! Dis labnah. Take bread,” she said, ripping a piece off the loaf of fragrant bread. “Dip! Or in oil, too. Den in dis - sesame, cumin. Yes?” Small black eyes fixated on Aizen who hurried to nod. “Dis hunayua, mushy dates, butter, sweet! Undastand, mista?”

This went on for a while until she’d ‘explained’ every single one of the dishes, pointed out the pastries and ended with loukoum - Turkish delight. She made a satisfied grunt, nodded to herself and directed her fierce gaze at Gin. “Eat! Eat! Drinking tea too! More eat!”

The older man stifled a laugh and reached for his cup of tea. It smelt of cinnamon and tasted very sweet. Perfect. With a soft sigh he leaned back and crossed his legs, hoping Gin would find something he liked.

He smirked at the idea. Dishing out food based on what one thought a customer would like... Well, you know what they say; 'You are what you eat'.

Maybe they'll start prepare servings of Fat, Lazy Bastards.

He turned to look at Aizen, when he caught the man frowning at what he saw outside the window. Gin turned to look as well, and he quirked his eyebrow at the car outside. It looked very ominous, very familiar - he has had a fair share of conveniently being at the same place these cars were parked at.

He wouldn't let it ruin his mood, though. If anything, he pitied the people in the car, spending their New Years' Day stuck in a car watching two people eat in some dingy little shop instead of at home with their families enjoying a warm cup of tea.

The footsteps from the other side caught his attention, and he looked over at the spread of food on their table. He looked on blankly as the crazy old lady pointed at every single dish and tried to explain to them what they were in something akin to Mongolian.

He lifted his gaze just as the woman turned to him with the most intimidating of faces. He leaned back a little as she screamed at him to eat and drink.

Timidly, his fingers crawled over the table, and he picked up the cup of tea. Smiling at her, he lifted it to his lips and took a sip. He wasn't too fond of cinnamon, though, but he tried not to spit out the tea. Not in front of her, anyway.

Coughing, he set the cup back down, eyeing over the spread. He tore off a corner of the bread, and proceeded to systematically dip it in every single thing, going in a clockwise direction, until it was coated in a myriad of... things... before placing it in his mouth.

The concoction didn't taste all too bad, surprisingly.

"Granny's kinda scary," he said, the tip of his finger in his mouth as he watched out for her. "She talks weirder than me."

“Yes, she kind of is.” Aizen cleared his throat softly to prevent himself from laughing when Gin dipped his piece of bread into all the available dips and reached for a piece of bread himself. Thankfully, the old lady had decided to vanish behind her counter and was busying herself with… something.

He lifted it to his mouth and was about to take a bite when a high-pitched voice told him sternly to dip it. Blinking at the rude interruption, he obediently lowered the piece of bread into one of the small bowls. It tasted like cheese of some sort.

“I hope she isn’t going to keep doing that,” he said quietly after he’d swallowed. “I had actually assumed eating here would be less stressful than going somewhere more busy.”

He couldn't stop himself from bursting into laughter when the lady told Aizen off for missing a dip. See - it was actually tactful of him to dip it into everything in sight that looked remotely... dippable.

"The great Mista Aizen, evil overlord and supreme ruler of the underworld..." he started, trailing off as he laughed again, dusting his hands off at the side from the breadcrumbs. "...cowers in fear from a toothless granny in a small nameless shop."

He held back more laughter as he ripped off another chunk of bread.

"Come - be smart boy like Gin and dip everything!" The bread in his hand was like a frog, jumping over every dish. He held out the final product in front of Aizen's face, waving it a little, some of the dip dripping onto the table.

"Eat! Eat!"

Oh, this experience was going to be a conversation-worthy topic for a long time.

Aizen smiled a little sheepishly, his eyes darting across the room towards the old lady who was now sitting with her back turned to them. He was glad that he didn’t have any relatives who could do this kind of thing to him and he was very glad that he had never taken a wife. Women past a certain age all turned into some variation of this… shop owner, he supposed. He’d seen it many times.

Hearing Gin laugh so heartily, however, made up for the small moment of embarrassment he’d been subjected to. Allowing a small laugh to escape him, he watched the piece of - what was its name again, fiat? - complete its journey and raised an eyebrow when it hovered dangerously close to his face.

It looked… thoroughly… dipped and the man wasn’t sure he wanted to eat that adventurous creation. Gin, on the other hand, was giving him that look and he suppressed a sigh as he took it from his silver-haired little joker and somehow managed to put it into his mouth without making a mess on his shirt and chewed thoughtfully.

“Thank you, Gin. That was an excellent combination of sweet, sour, salty and crunchy.”

Smiling warmly, he extended a hand and brushed his fingers across the side of Gin’s face. A hacking cough reminded him of where they were and he closed his eyes. Next time, provided there was going to be a next time, he’d place a take-away order if that was possible.

He laughed a little again at the cough, and cast his gaze to the granny. He quite liked the touch, and even though granny obviously disapproved, he didn't want Aizen's hand to leave. When it did, though, he withheld the sigh.

"Bad Mista Aizen," he chided, running his tongue over his lips as he gave his usual grin. "Don'tcha know where we are? Such atrocious behaviour!"

He dropped his voice down a few notches. "N' she ain't the only one lookin' on, y'know. Didn't figure ya ta be an exhibitionist."

He tore off more bread, and this time assessed the way things were laid out on the table. It was the lazy option, going in one direction, but it might have been better to dip them in a certain order...

One that didn't leave sesame seeds floating in the hummus-looking thing.

He went for that one last, and dipped it all the way, even coating the tips of his fingers in some of the thick liquid.

"I wike dat one da besh," he said with his mouth full, pointing at the dip.

“I’m not worried about them, Gin. It’s not as if they have a clear view on what we’re doing,” Sousuke said with a smirk on his lips and nodded towards the window as he reached for his cup. “They probably think I hit you over the head or whatever it is people think underworld bosses do to their people.”

He had actually forgotten the people in the car - a sign that he was enjoying himself. It was a very pleasant feeling. Tearing off another piece of bread, he made certain to dip it into the oil and another bowl before he ate it and glanced curiously at the dip Gin had pointed out.

“Do you remember what it is?” he asked, keeping his voice low, not wanting to draw the grandmother’s attention.

He chuckled a little. No, he was not really paying attention when granny pointed out everything that was served to them, nor did he understand the language she spoke.

"Maybe ya can ask granny later when she comes with the bill?" he offered before proceeding to help himself to a lump of it on a morsel of bread.

"N' then, when we're done eatin', we can go out n' say hi to those people in da car. Maybe offer 'em some of this stuff," he said, poking at one of the plates with weird, suspicious-looking green... blended... things.

He wanted a drink, but he didn't really like the tea, and pouted a little.

Guess it would have to wait until afterwards, seeing as he was unsure how the senile old woman would react to his request for a glass of water.

“We should probably ask her to offer those public servants a snack.” Aizen speared a small cube of Turkish delight with a toothpick and shook off some of the powdered sugar. It was even sweeter than the tea and he briefly wondered if he should have dipped it into something as well. Since the counter remained silent, he rested assured that he had done nothing wrong this time.

Noticing the small pout on Gin’s face, he wondered what the matter was. It couldn’t be the food that triggered that pout. The younger man wouldn’t have kept eating, no matter how terrifying the old lady was, so that left only their beverages.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Sousuke addressed the counter behind which the owner was. “Do you serve other kinds of beverages as well?”

“Mo’ tea?”
“No, no, not more tea. Do you have other drinks?”
“Tea!”
“No, we still have tea but we’d like some… water perhaps? Water?”

She yelled something at the curtain and a minute later the ill-tempered boy brought them two glasses of water. They obviously did not rely on their customers’ tips or customers in general it seemed.

He perked up when Aizen asked for other drinks. He hadn't even said anything and Aizen already knew.

Ch'. And all those denials about him unable to read minds... All lies...

"So brave, Mista Aizen. I admire yer courage," he teased, laughing as he picked up the glass of water and peered through it curiously. There were white things floating in it...

Very dodgy stuff.

Ignoring it to the best of his ability, he took a sip of the water - which he also had to ignore the weird taste of - and lowered the glass back onto the table.

He tore off another morsel of bread and helped himself to a healthy serving of the favoured dip before placing it in his mouth.

"More eat?" he asked, tilting his head. Aizen had hardly eaten anything.

“More eat.” The dark-haired man sat up a little straighter and decided to try some of the date mush. It was surprisingly solid for mush and tasted quite good but it stuck to his teeth as if it had something to prove. Quickly, he reached for his glass of water without examining it as carefully as Gin had and took a sip.

The water tasted of his childhood; of draughty quarters too small to house a family of three and another family - strangers - of four; of a father who couldn’t let go of the past, his pride, his fear of the future; of a mother who lived in constant fear of everything.

-- But that was then and this was now and the man sitting in the tiny shop, enjoying a quiet day off with his most favoured and precious possession, had learnt a long time ago that fear wasn’t worth his time.

He smiled at Gin and reached for some more bread. It travelled through various bowls - except the one Gin had taken a liking to - until it looked like the piece that had been dangled in front of his face. Another handful went through the same procedure before he sighed contentedly and sipped his lukewarm tea.

“I wonder if they’re going to follow us the whole day,” he said, gaze drifting to the car outside again. “What should we do after lunch, Gin?”

He took the last shred of bread he wanted and put it in his favourite dip again before placing it in his mouth, chewing as he dusted his hands off. He looked over at Aizen, who seemed to be deep in thought. The cryptic, mysterious Sousuke Aizen was always thinking about something... it intrigued him sometimes.

When Aizen spoke, he tilted his head to one side a little and cast his gaze out of the dirty window pane, looking at the car outside with a blank expression on his face. He had forgotten about them briefly, which... said a few things about his short attention span and carelessness.

"They might," he said, reaching for the glass of water. He looked into the contents of the glass, was reminded of the strangeness of it and chose to play with it on the table instead. "We could have a snowball fight wit' them when we're done, if it's not too strenuous."

"Or we could have a snowman-makin' competition. They haven't seen mah expert snow art skills yet," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"We could also go for a coffee... S'kinda cold."

“You should probably wait a bit longer before you demonstrate your snow art skills to the world again, Gin. It hasn’t quite recovered from the last exhibit, yet, I’m afraid. But coffee sounds good.” Aizen chuckled and turned his head to catch the old lady’s attention. She chose that second to appear from behind the counter and cast a disapproving glance at him when she saw that the plates were not empty.

“Finish?”
“Yes. It was delicious. Thank you.”
“Hmph.”

She dug a small notepad and a pencil from the pocket of her apron and scribbled something down. Ripping the sheet off, she slammed it on the table and began to clear the plates.

Sighing softly, Sousuke reached for his wallet and pulled out several bills which the woman promptly snatched from his fingers before she shuffled away, balancing multiple plates and bowls in her brittle looking hands.

“Well, I don’t suppose she’ll return with the change. Come, Gin.” The man rose from his seat and slid into his coat. This lunch, it had certainly not been how he’d imagined it but that was what made it so much more memorable. To think that he’d been bullied by a tiny old lady… Well, it didn’t matter since nobody would believe it if they heard about it anyway. It would stay between him and his second.

“Is there a particular coffee shop you’d like to go to?”

He could not help but laugh at the way Aizen had been hustled around by an old, toothless granny in a small shop. It might not have been the best lunch, but it would certainly make for a brilliant conversation topic for the rest of their lives.

He grabbed his coat and threw it on as well, the sleeves hugging on to his arms as his pale, little hands emerged from the sleeves' openings at the ends.

He opened the door and immediately a bit of snow blew into the shop. He stepped out onto the white, the snow crushing under his feet as he made it a few paces out of the shop, a lone man standing amidst a vast expanse of white. He eyed the car curiously, wondering if it would continue to tail them. He did not mind the attention all that much, but it was just a little sad to be doing this on New Years' Day.

"I don't know, Mista Aizen," he said as he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. "I don't mind anywhere we go so long as there's nice coffee... Maybe we should get up ta some funneh business just so that they don't make a trip fer biscuits."

Aizen remained standing in the doorway and admired the view. Gin standing there, alone in a world covered in white, his dark coat the only thing that prevented him from blending in with the surroundings. It looked desolate, forlorn and - in a slightly twisted manner - beautiful.

Twirling the umbrella like a walking stick, he came up behind the silver-haired man and let his gaze settle on the car as well. Amber coloured eyes, cool and dispassionate, stared at the two men behind the windshield, assessing their value, their level of threat, their usefulness and then dismissed them as utterly worthless.

“No funny business. I’m not in the mood to perform for small fry.” Giving the car a smirk and a wink, Aizen put a hand on Gin’s shoulder and turned away. “We could lead them to the more nefarious parts of the city, though. If memory doesn’t fail me, the coffee there was always superb and it’d give them something to think about,” he added with a soft chuckle. “Wouldn’t want them to get too bored after all.”

He cast his gaze to the hand on his shoulder, and looked over at Aizen. The more... nefarious parts of the city? That was an interesting, adventurous proposal. Aizen must be in the festive mood today, huh.

"Sounds good ta me, so long as I get my coffee." He sighed, a curling mist of warm air inside against the cool air outside forming under his nose. He didn't want to stand around too long - unlike the men in the car, he only had a coat to keep him warm.

He turned to look down one vast expanse of snow, and his gaze assessed the panoramic view of snow and barren, dead trees. It looked almost like a desert, except it was cold, and it was endless fields of snow instead of endless fields of sand. The dead trees stood out as black twigs amongst the white ground.

"Can't see the roads wit' the snow n' all, but I think yer nah... ner... 'nefarious parts of the city' is over that way."

Law enforcement members might have argued that the mere presence of Sousuke Aizen and Gin Ichimaru would put an indelible stain on whichever part of town they lingered in, but, fortunately, nobody asked them for their opinion.

“Still having trouble with the big words, Gin? Maybe you should consider attending evening school. These days, lots of people do it to further their careers,” Aizen teased the younger man and laughed softly as they proceeded down the path Gin had pointed out, his hand squeezing the bony shoulder it rested upon lightly.

The dark-haired man really was in a good mood. And why wouldn’t he be? It was a lovely day, existing in a small bubble outside their daily lives and he was glad that Gin had made him promise to take this day off. His hand found its way up and cupped the back of the silver-fox’s head briefly before it returned into its usual hiding place in Aizen's pocket.

He scowled. His semi-literacy had always been a subject of teasing, and he should have grown used to it by now, but something about it always irked him - especially with people like Ulquiorra, who enjoyed rubbing it in his face.

"Further my career, huh. I'm at the limit though, so there be no need fer ev'ning classes. Sides, I'm sometimes busy durin' da evenin'... Don't wanna skip out on classes now, do I?"

He sniffed and gave Aizen one of his half-glare, half-blank stares, as if some great injustice had been done to him even though he did not seem to mind it too much. "Glad ta know ya find my English so amusing."

Aizen's hand was warm against his head, and he leaned into the touch a little. Felt nice. He almost felt like going back to bed again.

A snowflake had fallen onto his hair, and it melted into a droplet of water, trickling down his fringe, down to dangle by the edge of his hair.

"Ya wouldn't be able ta see me if I weren't wearin' this coat," he said, his gaze growing distant. Without the black coat marking him from the snow, he would blend in rather well.

Had Sousuke not been thinking something similar just a little while ago? It felt odd to hear his thoughts being put into speech but at the same time it was also reassuring to know that they hadn’t drifted too far apart for something like that to happen.

“It gets lonelier the further up ya go. It’s the price princes, kings, emperors ‘n even gods have ta pay, Sou. There ain’t enough space for more than one up there, ya know?”

Perhaps one day, he, too, would have to pay it but not yet.

Smiling mildly, he reached out to catch that drop of water hanging from a strand of silver and flicked it away. “It wouldn’t matter because I’d know. That you’re there and that I’d be able to find you if you needed me to.”

‘I found you all those years ago, didn’t I?’

He couldn't hide that mild look of surprise on his face. He had expected Aizen to say... Well... Not that.

You'd be able to find me... if I ever needed you to.

"That's lies," he said softly. It was a very long time ago, but he could remember some parts of his childhood vividly. He had spent it with Ran, after all, and every moment with her was a memorable one. He cast Aizen a suspicious gaze. Maybe the man wouldn't remember it.

"I wanted ya ta find me all those years ago when ya disappeared," he started, his voice full of confidence. But then he was reminded of how he had been waiting - expecting; longing for Aizen to come back, looking around everywhere he could, waiting where they used to sit, where they used to talk.

But Aizen never came back, and day after day he had grown tired of waiting, grown tired of hoping, knowing it was going to set him up for a bigger fall.

One month. One month of false hopes, of despair, of being lost and confused. And then afterwards, there was the even slower process of forgetting about it and moving on.

"But ya never did."

Aizen wondered what Gin was talking about. He had never gone away without letting Gin know where he was. It would not be easy to simply disappear, seeing how they worked together and lived in the same house. Only once had he left town for an extended period of time and those years had been the worst in his life.

Their little gang had bitten off a little more than they could chew and had to flee. A shadow ghosted over Sousuke’s face when the feeling of being chased like an animal and almost dying returned to him. Unconsciously his hand strayed towards his stomach. Although the scar had turned white over the years, he never quite managed to erase from his mind the image of a gaping, angry hole, scarlet red and oozing bloody pus.

‘But that happened before you picked my pocket,’ he thought and then suddenly realisation dawned in his eyes. The little matchbox boy. The shoeshine boy. The one who’d leave his corner, missing opportunities to earn a few more cents, to waste time with him in the park. The one who always smiled despite his miserable situation and sometimes made Sousuke laugh.

“No, I didn’t,” the dark-haired man said softly, “but you probably wouldn’t have wanted me to if you’d seen me at that time. I wasn’t quite myself.” He’d gone crazy from the pain and the dog’s life they’d been leading. If they hadn’t managed to force their way back in, who knew what would have become of him.

Placing his hand on Gin’s neck, Aizen pulled him closer until their heads almost touched. “And I didn’t care,” he whispered, telling the truth, not to be cruel but because the man at his side didn’t deserve less. “Not like I do now. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

And unless death decided to interfere, Aizen intended to keep this promise.

'But you probably wouldn’t have wanted me to.'

His gaze grew distant at that. He hadn't known Aizen for that long, but he knew enough to know that the man wasn't acting himself. He'd been on the streets long enough to know where to get information, and quickly, and he knew Aizen had gotten himself in trouble.

Yet... at the same time... There was never a point in time where he had ever thought of not wanting to see Aizen. Ever. He was in a much worse position than the man, and he couldn't have helped, but...

He always came, even if there was a bad snowstorm, even if the wretched rain poured down and soaked him thoroughly - Aizen always came.

And for him to just leave like that...

He says it like he means it, but really... Really... There's nothing to stop him from just leaving me again, like that. Just going without a word, leaving me there, the same way he had asked me to go with him, the same way I had left Ran there... One day, he'll grow tired of me, and then... Then...

He shook his head lightly, some of the melted snow in his hair flicking off. It was New Years' Day, and the scene was pretty, and he didn't want to be thinking about all this right now. Aizen was here, and that was all that mattered for now.

"I'll hold ya to that, then," he said, his voice taking on a strange cheery tone. He didn't mean what he said, but at least he sounded very sincere.

‘You never told me, you silly child. That sound... Who are to trying to appease? Me? Yourself? What else are you carrying around with you, Gin?’

Pulling back, Aizen studied the younger man’s face. His own face remained completely void of emotion. Something in his eyes, however, flickered violently before it was extinguished like a flame, leaving calm pools of amber behind.

“Hm.” He suppressed a sigh, squeezed Gin’s neck lightly and managed a smile. There was little else he could have done out here and Gin didn’t seem keen on carrying on this particular conversation. Well, he would pay more attention to his little fox in the future.

“Let’s find some place warm before you catch a cold, shall we?”

He didn't quite enjoy being scrutinised by Aizen, and shrunk back a little when he found the older man studying his expression. He deliberately tried not to quicken his pace, retaining the same pace as they walked through the snow, heading for the coffee shop in the 'nefarious parts of town'.

"It's up ahead," he said softly, notioning to the buildings in the distance with a slight jerk of his head. "I want coffee~ Coffee wit' chocolate n' lotsa foam..." He liked the foam.... a lot.

"They stopped followin' us," he said, casting a glance over his shoulder. "Maybe they took the long way... or got stuck in the snow... or sommin'..." Regardless, he was quite happy that the car with the law-enforcing stalkers were gone; at least, for now.

And just as well, too. They had enough daylight to get their coffee, linger for a little while and start heading home before it got dark.

"Thanks," he almost murmured, trudging through the snow, making his way toward their destination. He looked over at Aizen, widening his smile before turning to look back at the buildings they were headed for.

"Fer spendin' New Years' wit' me..." ...and a whole lot of other things that, if he were to start listing, would only hurt his brain and may end up taking all night to finish.

“I hope they got stuck and are freezing to death,” Aizen muttered under his breath as he cast a glance over his shoulder. It would serve them right for following people around on a holiday. Contrary to popular opinion, evil did take a break from time to time.

Slipping his hand back into his pocket, he followed Gin and noticed that the neighbourhood wasn’t as bad as he remembered it. Perhaps, they should start investing some money here. Numbers began to circulate in his head and he almost missed Gin’s quietly muttered ‘thanks’.

“Gin you...” Aizen blinked and made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. “You’re very welcome,” he added, mirroring Gin’s smile.

‘Have I neglected you that badly that you think you have to thank me for something that used to be natural?’

The dark-haired man was too busy with too many things that someone like him shouldn’t have to worry about any more. He blamed it on the incompetence of that little punk that they were in this situation right now. That incident had truly messed up their plans.

The coffee shop was not very busy and the man behind the counter greeted the two men with a grunt.

“What’cha havin’?”

“Two coffees. One with chocolate and…” Aizen paused to quirk an eyebrow at Gin. “Lots of foam?”

He nodded numerous times, a wide smile on his face. "Lotsa foam."

Needless to say, the owner-cum-barrista gave them a disapproving look at the request. Obviously the man did not get many patrons who came in requesting for extra chocolate and foam. Or at least, patrons that were serious about their request for chocolate and foam.

Nevertheless, the man had served up two coffees - one which looked relatively normal, and another which had a mountain of chocolate powder sitting on top of a thick layer of white foam.

Gin couldn't be unhappy with that.

He picked up the tray of coffees and they made their way to a little table in the corner. He offered Aizen the normal-looking coffee, and pulled his cup closer towards him, careful not to spill any of it.

He picked up the spoon and started stirring his 'coffee' most gingerly, careful not to send chocolate powder flying everywhere. He reached over for two packets of sugar and added it to the disproportionate concoction, stirring it again.

He lifted the 'coffee' to his lips and took a sip, lowering it a little as he ran his tongue over his upper lip, licking off the foam. He sighed contentedly and lowered the 'coffee' back down onto the table, a contented smile spreading across his face.

"I've decided I like this place."

Aizen curled his fingers around his cup to soak up the warmth, and watched Gin tend to his own cup with the utmost care. It was a rather unusual sight and he laughed softly when the younger man made sure not to waste any of his precious foam by licking it off of his lips. Like a kitten.

“I’m glad you do.”

Uncurling his fingers from his cup, the dark-haired man reached for three packs of sugar and emptied them into his coffee before he added some milk.

“We could come here more often if you like,” he added, crossing his legs and taking a sip. “It’s certainly quieter than the places downtown.” Where unwelcome eyes watched their every move and uninvited ears greedily sucked up every single word they said.

We could come here more often', he said. Gin could not help but scowl, hiding it behind his coffee mug. Coming by once a year would could as 'more often', by Aizen's standards, given their current track record. It was more like Gin could come here more often while Aizen stayed at home or at work doing paperwork or talking to fat, old, lazy people.

"Okay," he simply said, his voice void of emotion. He averted his gaze and took another sip of coffee. He only frequented all those places in town because he couldn't venture too far during his daily out-of-office strolls. Even on their days off, Aizen was often too busy to take him out to a desolate place like this.

"Let's do that," he said softly, hiding behind a veil of silver strands of hair, smiling.

“Yes.” Smiling mildly, Aizen ran a hand through his hair carelessly and looked at the silver head in front of him. It would be nice if he managed to dig out some free time...

Sometimes, he missed not being in charge. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He liked being in charge but he missed not having to deal with morons on a daily basis. Lately, it seemed as if even the simplest task couldn’t be carried out without it turning into a minor emergency.

Was he too demanding or were people around him turning more and more incompetent?

“Would you like to go to Cuba this summer, Gin?” he asked, adding more sugar to his coffee.

His cup of coffee froze in mid-air for a brief moment. Cuba? In the summer? Both of them? He eyed Aizen suspiciously. "It depends," he said, moving his hand almost mechanically to drink his coffee, chocolate and foam concoction. "I'm goin' there fer work? Or a holiday? Or both?"

Usually, going there for both meant more work than holiday... but even so, it would be nice to spend some time away from this place. "Anyway, if it's fer work, s'good. Last shipment of dope was substandard," he said casually, wrinkling his nose.

"Yer comin' as well? S'no fun goin' there all by mahself..." He slurped up more coffee and foam, licking some foam off the bowl and swallowing it.

“A little bit of both and I’ll be going with you,” Aizen replied, taking another sip of his now slightly over-sweetened coffee. “I think Ulquiorra and Tousen can handle a week without us and I’d like to settle some things with our partners down there.”

The comment about the last shipment brought a small crease to his forehead. “Again? That’s the second time in a row, isn’t it?”

It was definitely time to make an appearance in Cuba. If they thought they could mess around just because Aizen was several thousand miles away, they’d better think again.

"Well. S'been happenin' on and off a lil'. Didn't used to be a problem 'cause we could just mix 'em 'round a bit but when it's gettin' more frequent, maybe ya should go get it checked out. Maybe find another source 'er two." He finished his coffee and reached for the teaspoon, scooping up the foam.

He stuck the spoon of foam into his mouth.

"Ya never know. Maybe they're runnin' into some problems down there." He extracted the spoon from his mouth and collected more foam and chocolate powder that had been stuck to the side of the cup.

"Cuba it is, then! N' I'll be lookin' forward to it, so ya better not cancel 'er change the plan."

“Hm, I don’t care about their problems and expect them not to make them my problem. You…” Aizen let his voice trail off and blinked at Gin and his spoon, “…you really like your foam, don’t you?” Chuckling, he raised his own cup to his lips and drained it.

He’d done it again; let business insert itself into their conversations.

“Let’s go home. Old men like me aren’t used to traipsing around all day without taking a nap in between.” Smiling broadly, Sousuke rose from his seat and ruffled Gin’s hair. “And try not to eat the spoon, Gin.”

He gave Aizen something close to a Cheshire cat grin when the older man noted his unhealthy obsession with foam. His mouth felt a little sticky from all the sugar and foam and chocolate, and he found himself licking his lips again to try and alleviate it.

Somehow he had a feeling that Aizen was going to say something else outside of the foam, with the way he had trailed off, but when Aizen chose to change the topic, he also chose not to pursue it. He was probably making things overly complicated, as usual.

He remembered to take the spoon out of his mouth and put it back into the coffee cup - it would have been embarrassing to walk out with it still poking out of his mouth, after all. He got to his feet slowly and yawned, stretching. He had only just woken up, and he was not keen in taking a nap, but he much liked the prospect of going home.

“Okay. Let’s go home.”