Reinvention of Truth [Bleach, Gin/Rangiku, T]
Or in my case, a wanna be God.
"What promotion?" I cocked my head to the side, honestly wondering for once.
Here Captain Aizen leisurely picked up his chopstick and started poking through his agedashi tofu, pausing between a mouthful to continue. "For captaincy, of course. The third division has been captainless for the last six decades, and the vice captain is requesting a retirement."
"But I'm yer vice captain." I said, suddenly remembering that I forgot to put a finely chopped boiled egg that will pass as bonito flakes in the plate that he's been holding. It irked him so much that he'd twitch throughout the meal. The idea's a courtesy of Hirako Shinji, the master of bullying Aizen.
"When you're promoted, you'll get more advantages."
"I'm yer vice captain." You see, with Aizen, you needed to be repetitive to get your point across. I practiced it hourly, as insults rarely get under his skin, because he thought he's above petty things like verbal abuse.
"You'll have a whole division at your beck and call."
"What's the difference with now?"
"A vice captain that'll do your chores without complaining," Aizen continued.
"Iba Chikane is hardly the material. In case ya forgot, she used to have a metal harisen to spank Otoribashi around. And we got the 3rd seat for that."
He placed down the chopstick and small plate, a paternal smile gracing his lips. "Perhaps she'll be the mother figure you never had."
I returned his grin with double ominosity. "Ooh, I know what this is all about. You're thinking of having that cute academy student as yer 2nd seat."
After searching through his memory, Aizen shrugged. "Hinamori-kun? Hardly the case."
"You're a dirty old man, Captain Aizen, for wanting her like that," my voice dripped with mock courtesy, and for a second he looked over the rim of his fake glasses dangerously, "at least let me at her first."
With only six decades worth of inducing terror in my dossier, Aizen could easily pass up the taunt. Instead, he resorted to pushing his glasses up and maintained the Perfect Smile of Sunshine Breaking through the Clouds. "Funny that, since I thought you prefer girls blondier and bustier, Gin."
If possible, the leer attempted to crack across my face.
"Just think about it," he picked his copy of Quotables From The World's Most Infamous Despots, and gestured me towards the exit. "I'll give you a day off tomorrow to make up your mind."
*
There's a lingering warmth on the other side of the futon when I woke up.
It's the chill that bit on my limbs and the ends of my fingers and toes, but what I noticed first is your disappearance. You developed this habit of staying up late after that one particular night that change our world, making sure that I never try to slip out after midnight again, taking your rest in the afternoon instead.
Not that it ever stopped me from sneaking off at the crack of dawn.
Winter had come early to the Material World, covering the town of Karakura with snow that piled at the rooftop and pavements. The humans have wrapped themselves in thick wool and bright colored jackets up to their neck, the voices of rosy cheeked children having a snowball fight drifting through the windows.
You were wearing nothing but a sheer white dancing costume instead, practicing your steps in the garden, your bare feet leaving evident tracks on the snow, exposing your limbs to the harsh winter.
A flurry of white sleeve whirled in the air, and you languidly twirled your fingers out of the sleeve, the movement not unlike of a crane. The sheer, wide costume pooled all the way to your ankle, brushing the snow everytime you shifted. Without any musician, I knew you're following the imaginary drumming of koto inside your head, your feet goes where the pretend shamisen's strings lead.
Bits of frost line your long eyelashes by the time you came into the inn's room, slightly out of breath, drops of sweat flowing down your temples.
After shedding off the wide robe, you slipped under the blanket next to me on your stomach, and as I instinctively brushed off the snow covering your hair, you craned your face to me as I tangled my fingers into the golden mane. "So what's the occasion?"
"Nothing," I answered, the grin never leaving my face, and you pouted. "Do I need a specific reason just to see Rangiku?"
"Well, no..." You trailed off, and closed your eyes as my hand dipped into the line of your spine, feeling the smoothness and the mixed slight dampness from your dancing and the night before. "But I only got this day off from promising the Captain a pack of cigarettes from the Material World, and you're not helping me here."
"What's the dance ya just perform for me?"
You belched delicately, turning to your side to face me, and quickly swatted off my hand as it reached your left ribcage. "Idiot. Who's performing for you? I'm just practicing my dance steps."
"With the heavy dancing costume?"
"It was cold," you deflected, and slipped one arm around my neck, "in fact, I'm still cold now."
I smirked, drawing you closer until our bare skin came in contact with each other, and the touch was enough to send tingles down our spine, "Then I'd better make ya warm again."
After, when the tinge finally left your cheeks, you reached for the human's dress that's been prepared the night before, and turned around with a slightly raised eyebrow. "A promotion?"
"Captain Aizen said something about the 3rd's vice captain retiring," I watched as you pulled out your shoulder length tresses from your back, tying the pink scarf into a knot on your neck, "the captain's seat has been empty for a long time."
"I barely remember Captain Otoribashi."
"Ah. That's probably because Vice Captain Iba is more memorable than he was."
You mumbled something about going out to buy the cigarettes, not the Japanese stuff, your captain has preferred the imported kind. "Say, way back when, they called you the hundred sheather because of your shikai."
"Uh-huh."
"Now that you're submitting yourself as captain and revealing your bankai for the exam, what kind of nick name they'll come up with next?"
For a good two seconds, I raised an eyebrow and pretended to consider the ceiling. "Mr. 13 km?"
You dropped to your knees next to me in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and we laughed ourselves sick for the next five minutes.
*
"Vice Captain Ichimaru!"
There's this pleasure of not immediately turning around in recognition when an insignificant academy student called out my name. Especially when my first impression of him was a whimpering crybaby.
A blond haired academy student was rushing towards me along the academy's hallway, trying hard not to run. Right in front of me, he paused to catch his breath.
"I-I heard that you're getting a promotion, Vice Captain Ichimaru." The boy managed to say between the intake of air, "Congratulations."
"Thanks. You're awfully well informed, uh..."
"I'm Izuru, Kira Izuru, sir!"
Truth was, Aizen already had me checking his detailed background along with his two friends. He already had this one pegged as the obedient type, the kind who'll gladly jump through hoops or throw themselves into pits of molten lava without question. And then Aizen would simply walk away with his unsoiled shihakushou, ignoring the bloody foot tracks he’s making along the path. The last few decades had me trained for steering out of the brightest place; because right there you couldn't see the shadows he's been lurking under.
"I'm really looking forward to work with you in the 5th division, Vice Captain Ichimaru. I aspire to become someone as great as you!" There's this determined glint that burned like torches in his eyes as the words came flowing out of his mouth like an uncontrollable wave. Someone who didn't cower at my sight was a rarity these days, and finding specimens like Kira Izuru was considered quite a feat. Or I just have a strange fetish for blond crybabies.
"But I'll work even harder so one day I can become someone you can rely on!" Kira said, pounding on his chest proudly.
Oh, I thought. So that's what it was all about.
"Well," I grinned, and waved him goodbye as he bowed as low as he could, "I'll be waiting for ya then."
Captain Unohana was walking out of her Ikebana class when I ran into her, carrying a large vase of neatly arranged branches and flowers, and smiled maternally at me when I greeted her and offered to take her load.
"Say, Captain Unohana, will you be there for my captain examination?" I started, as she lead the way back into her head quarters.
"As per General Yamamoto's term, a senior captain is required on the exam. Captain Aizen has also enquired about my assistance on the matter. Although," Unohana's smile seemed to leave her eyes as she strained to look at me through the daffodils and branches, "I do not think my judgement will be hindered by any of your accomplishments or misgivings."
Silently, I gulped. The idea of slamming her hard work down the floor and making the run for it seemed too tempting, but the knowledge that she'd hunt me down and pay me back twice was hammered down at the back of my brain.
"What misgivings?" I tried to force the grin from slipping, and she gave me that too old and too refined look, as if she could see right through the cracks of my mask.
"Vice Captain Ichimaru," Unohana released a sigh, and I contemplated the convenience of murder by smiles, "It is normal to have doubts about a new work environment and new responsibilities. But I cannot see you developing even a remote interest in this, though many would kill for a chance like yours."
"Forgive me if I don't sound too eager for a promotion, Captain Unohana,” The authenticity felt unfamiliar against my tongue even, “but this is all happening too fast."
"The fact that you are approaching me instead of Kuchiki Ginrei or Ukitake Jyuushirou tells a lot."
"Captain Ukitake's health ain't getting any better, and Captain Kuchiki is busy preparing his grandson's promotion." I mentally ticked off the figure one by one, "And Captain Kyouraku said that he's not interested in helping out men."
"Still," she stopped as we reached the 4th division head quarters and she motioned for me to put down the vase, "I found your lack of interest to be unfascinating."
Currying favor has long been a disadvantage of mine, especially when I've successfully kept the record of being an abusive prick for years. But Aizen will have my head before I have his if I flunked this, so any measures taken is better in the long run.
"What do you think about a talented recruit?" I offered, still smiling, and Unohana's lips made the quirkest curve that suggested things were going to her liking, "And have I mentioned that he scored the highest at the academy's admission test?"
*
"If you become a captain," You said, because even then you knew I have no interest in the whole idea, "doesn't that mean you'll have the whole division ground all for yourself?"
"Oh right," I couldn't stop the sarcasm from sneaking into my tone, "Because all we used ta' have is a dilapidated shack in a middle of nowhere, I'm suddenly craving for a military sized barrack."
"No, silly," you whacked the top of my head, "the earth. Doesn't that mean you can plant anything on it?"
For the first time ever in the whole afternoon, I focused my gaze on your sneaky grin and understood.
It was common knowledge that great liars needed great memories, otherwise the webs of truth and inventions would be mixed together and spun sticky like a summer festival's cotton candy, and even then the liar wouldn't even know which one's reality or not anymore.
My memories were starting to loop endlessly one summer evening, screams of a former captain filling my brain, eight bodies splayed on the ground like experimental limbs gone wrong, white goo bleeding into a pharaoh’s mask on--
"What are you thinking about?" You asked, hair spilling out from your shoulders, your lips against my brow.
I turned around on your lap before my palm snaked on top of your exposed chest, fingers flattening possessively below your left collar bone, and something beneath your flesh and skin thumped quietly against mine.
I thought of time, and the time we were supposed to have.
"Nothing," I replied, and between the distance of my words and your heart, you have none to answer to that. “Do ya think ten persimmons seedling will suffice?”
*
The door to my office screeched loudly in protest as someone yanked it open forcibly.
Standing before me with his bangs now covering half of his eyes and facade stricken with contempt, was none other than Kira Izuru.
"Vice Captain Ichimaru," he started, not bothering to fix his hair or disheveled academy uniform, "May I have a word?"
"Hello to ya too," I said flatly, leering, "and please come in."
Gradually, he realized his mistake soon enough, and bowed before me, though not as low as he used to. "Forgive my sudden intrusion."
"What can I do fer ya, uh..."
He cringed a bit as he produced a piece of folded paper from his sleeve and slid it open in front of me, "It's Izuru, Kira Izuru, sir."
"What's this?" I picked up the letter, and pretended to gave it a good read, though in reality I've memorized the wording, "Request of Transfer Form, name: Kira Izuru, formerly 5th division, transferral request to 4th division, Reasons for transfer: unsuitable for heavy battles, kidou skills need more training...why are you showing me this?"
"Please look further down," he breathed out, exasperated, and I knew he's biting down a scream, "sir."
"Signed and authorized by Ichimaru Gin.... Hey, this person has the same name as me!" I flicked my eyes from the paper in hand to him and he flinched visibly, lower lip wobbling. "Vice Captain of 5th division....wait, this is me. Oh right, I wrote this."
"...Why?" He said, eyes shining, and for a moment I stopped sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck, thinking he's going to keel over and suffer a cardiac arrest, "why did you do that?"
I slid the form back to him, my smile still firmly attached. "I thought it would be fun for you."
"Y-you knew I wanted to be in the 5th," he continued, and shook his head wildly, and his voice trembled as he breathed his next line, "You knew I looked up to you."
"Naw, don't be like that," I said, light, and Kira's fisted hands slowly shook, "it's an honor to be working under one of Gotei 13's most experienced captain."
"The 4th division is for losers!" Finally, he raised his voice, angry tears streaming down his cheeks, "only the lowest scored of academy graduates go there, and you're saying it suits me!? This-"
Whatever line he's supposed to say died down, because already my fingers were upon his throat, and he choked, turning cold under my grip and my ominous smile. "You've got the nerve to say those words, boy. Imagine what Captain Unohana would do if she heard you."
He whimpered.
"So yer basically saying yer too good to scrub down the dungeons, hmm? 'Zat so?"
A trickle of his sweat dripped down the floor.
"Listen here, as ya seemed too eager to jump ahead and kill yerself," I continued, and beneath my thumb his pulse quickened, "There's nothing fun and exciting about battle. It's supposed to be fearsome, boy. Yer supposed to be scared about it. Battle is not a stage for empty heroics and nor is it something to take pleasure in. Battle is filled with despair. Dark, terrifying. That is the way that it should be. That way, people learn to fear battle and to choose the path of non-violence where possible. Do ya get that?"
For a fraction of second, I thought he already died from my words alone, because his eyes whitened and his neck was ice cold. But he managed a small nod at last, and as I loosened my hand, he collapsed to his knees, desperately massaging the marks I've left behind, finally remembering to breathe again.
"I have to go to the captain's examination," I made my way to the exit and paused at the doorway, "I'm not expecting ya to be here when I come back."
From his position, he stirred and looked at me through his bangs, eyes shining, features hard. "I won't be here. But I'll be there at the 3rd division, sir."
Recognizing the determination in his lines forced me to split my grin wider. "Remember to close the door on yer way out, Izuru."
*
Yamamoto's beard bristled along with the air stream, his cane tapping the ground beneath him, and three captains: Unohana Retsu, Tousen Kaname and of course, Aizen Sousuke, spread around him, their captain's cloaks billowing in the breeze.
A nameless forest in the northern most district of Rukongai was chosen for the exam, the most necessary precaution provided by ushering all souls that already gathered here to another district. An essay on my bankai was required, but ink on paper was barely essential when performance was regarded as louder. I have passed the interview section with flying colors, the bankai demonstration followed next.
"Begin by stating your name and title," Yamamoto's voice raised above the wind, and behind him Aizen was smiling, smiling and smiling and underneath it all was the knowledge that he'd never let my future career remain largely a footnote.
"I'm the 5th division Vice Captain, Ichimaru Gin," that's a weird name, Gin, "and I'll show ya my bankai."
The sound of Shinsou being unsheathed was a signal for all four of them to take position, and as I opened my eyes, a clear path was before me. Dipping the zanpakutou to my chest, I whispered to the elements, falling leaves lightly scraping our uniforms. "Bankai, Kamishini no Yari."
The ground trembled as trees crumbled and cut up leaves rained down to our feet, and Yamamoto emerged from one of a sliced, slightly charred giant trunk far, far from me, nary a piece of tree bark or a shred of leaf on his pristine cloak.
"Excellent," he said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully, and the temperature around us significantly rose as his cane melted into his zanpakutou. The sliding sound of Ryujinjyakka against the sheath sent my skin crawling with morbid, the muscles of my mouth remained tight. "Now let us begin the test."
"Kamishini no Yari," I lowered the sword and clasped it in front of my heart, remembering cranes and fair fingers out of wide, wide sleeves, quick bare feet that left visible tracks on snow. Frozen eyelashes that melt against my mouth. "Dance step, Serial Blade."
*
"You look good in that."
You waltzed into the office with a skip, and ran both hands up my chest to my shoulder, crumpling the crisp, new haori in your grab. "Really, really good."
"Thanks," I smiled, wide and genuine for once, "want to try it on?"
"Maybe later," you giggled against my jaw, "the ceremony starts only in an hour, right?"
"So? We still have an hour," I said, lips brushing the side of your mouth. "I'll shunpo the remaining distance."
"You're crazy," You looked up at the clock again, deciding not to argue with me. “Now don’t you dare pick a poor girl from the 3rd division and flirt with her.”
“Oh? Unless you wanted me to, I’m always up for more participants in our activities,” I suggested easily.
“You go do that, and I’ll finally make up my mind to seduce Kuchiki Byakuya….” You were gripping the front of my cloak now and gazed at me with half-lidded eyes, “he’ll need someone to help him go through the night after losing his wife.”
My smile grew wider. “I’ll stick with Iba Chikane-san, then.”
Again you ducked your face to muffle a chuckle, and I caught your smile slipping in a fraction of second, a seed of discomfort and hesitation forming in your eyes. You remembered a distant promise lost in the snow and prospects of a better life, of a time when we're each other's worlds.
I snaked both arms around your waist, fingers brushing lightly against Haineko's sheath and pulled you to me, and underneath the folds of my clothes, something in the void of my chest beat anew.
"I'm still here," I whispered into your hair, and you continued to press your cheek against my shoulder, rigid hands rumpling my sleeves, averting your eyes, and I instead remembered your promise to me. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Perhaps," you breathed, every syllable laced with doubt, and silently renew the vow of going down my path, "are you telling me the truth?"
I closed my eyes as I caught your chin and pressed your lips to mine, and the taste of you was bitter and sweet like distrust and love and hate at the same time, and I didn't need to answer.
*
The snow has melted into grey-white dust when I opened my eyes again. For a second, I thought the precipitant season has started again--but the rain was warm and salty, and the knowledge of it being thicker than anybody's blood that I've spilled still gnawed at my senses.
Far above us, reiatsu explosions rattled Karakura town, blazes of energy colored the sky black.
Your trembling fingers caught my face with the gentlest touch, as if I was made of glass.
As if I might die any second now.
I thumbed the bottom of your eye with my remaining hand, wiping away the moisture, and you're suddenly choking with more tears.
You called my name repeatedly in broken weeps, a gentle plea that hides none of the evident fright in your face.
What are you so afraid of?
All I saw in front of me was the little girl that used to latch on my back, stopping me from leaving.
The one that, after all these years, still very ticklish at her left ribcage.
The one that cried at sad stories.
The one that I wanted to make whole again, no matter what.
Your face sunk into my shoulder, mixing the tears with my blood, and beneath the strangled sobs you mouthed the words I've long to hear for decades.
All the sounds in the background faded into a haze as I buried my face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent until it seared my lungs and went on eternally, until I finally understood what it was supposed to mean.
Welcome home.
"What promotion?" I cocked my head to the side, honestly wondering for once.
Here Captain Aizen leisurely picked up his chopstick and started poking through his agedashi tofu, pausing between a mouthful to continue. "For captaincy, of course. The third division has been captainless for the last six decades, and the vice captain is requesting a retirement."
"But I'm yer vice captain." I said, suddenly remembering that I forgot to put a finely chopped boiled egg that will pass as bonito flakes in the plate that he's been holding. It irked him so much that he'd twitch throughout the meal. The idea's a courtesy of Hirako Shinji, the master of bullying Aizen.
"When you're promoted, you'll get more advantages."
"I'm yer vice captain." You see, with Aizen, you needed to be repetitive to get your point across. I practiced it hourly, as insults rarely get under his skin, because he thought he's above petty things like verbal abuse.
"You'll have a whole division at your beck and call."
"What's the difference with now?"
"A vice captain that'll do your chores without complaining," Aizen continued.
"Iba Chikane is hardly the material. In case ya forgot, she used to have a metal harisen to spank Otoribashi around. And we got the 3rd seat for that."
He placed down the chopstick and small plate, a paternal smile gracing his lips. "Perhaps she'll be the mother figure you never had."
I returned his grin with double ominosity. "Ooh, I know what this is all about. You're thinking of having that cute academy student as yer 2nd seat."
After searching through his memory, Aizen shrugged. "Hinamori-kun? Hardly the case."
"You're a dirty old man, Captain Aizen, for wanting her like that," my voice dripped with mock courtesy, and for a second he looked over the rim of his fake glasses dangerously, "at least let me at her first."
With only six decades worth of inducing terror in my dossier, Aizen could easily pass up the taunt. Instead, he resorted to pushing his glasses up and maintained the Perfect Smile of Sunshine Breaking through the Clouds. "Funny that, since I thought you prefer girls blondier and bustier, Gin."
If possible, the leer attempted to crack across my face.
"Just think about it," he picked his copy of Quotables From The World's Most Infamous Despots, and gestured me towards the exit. "I'll give you a day off tomorrow to make up your mind."
*
There's a lingering warmth on the other side of the futon when I woke up.
It's the chill that bit on my limbs and the ends of my fingers and toes, but what I noticed first is your disappearance. You developed this habit of staying up late after that one particular night that change our world, making sure that I never try to slip out after midnight again, taking your rest in the afternoon instead.
Not that it ever stopped me from sneaking off at the crack of dawn.
Winter had come early to the Material World, covering the town of Karakura with snow that piled at the rooftop and pavements. The humans have wrapped themselves in thick wool and bright colored jackets up to their neck, the voices of rosy cheeked children having a snowball fight drifting through the windows.
You were wearing nothing but a sheer white dancing costume instead, practicing your steps in the garden, your bare feet leaving evident tracks on the snow, exposing your limbs to the harsh winter.
A flurry of white sleeve whirled in the air, and you languidly twirled your fingers out of the sleeve, the movement not unlike of a crane. The sheer, wide costume pooled all the way to your ankle, brushing the snow everytime you shifted. Without any musician, I knew you're following the imaginary drumming of koto inside your head, your feet goes where the pretend shamisen's strings lead.
Bits of frost line your long eyelashes by the time you came into the inn's room, slightly out of breath, drops of sweat flowing down your temples.
After shedding off the wide robe, you slipped under the blanket next to me on your stomach, and as I instinctively brushed off the snow covering your hair, you craned your face to me as I tangled my fingers into the golden mane. "So what's the occasion?"
"Nothing," I answered, the grin never leaving my face, and you pouted. "Do I need a specific reason just to see Rangiku?"
"Well, no..." You trailed off, and closed your eyes as my hand dipped into the line of your spine, feeling the smoothness and the mixed slight dampness from your dancing and the night before. "But I only got this day off from promising the Captain a pack of cigarettes from the Material World, and you're not helping me here."
"What's the dance ya just perform for me?"
You belched delicately, turning to your side to face me, and quickly swatted off my hand as it reached your left ribcage. "Idiot. Who's performing for you? I'm just practicing my dance steps."
"With the heavy dancing costume?"
"It was cold," you deflected, and slipped one arm around my neck, "in fact, I'm still cold now."
I smirked, drawing you closer until our bare skin came in contact with each other, and the touch was enough to send tingles down our spine, "Then I'd better make ya warm again."
After, when the tinge finally left your cheeks, you reached for the human's dress that's been prepared the night before, and turned around with a slightly raised eyebrow. "A promotion?"
"Captain Aizen said something about the 3rd's vice captain retiring," I watched as you pulled out your shoulder length tresses from your back, tying the pink scarf into a knot on your neck, "the captain's seat has been empty for a long time."
"I barely remember Captain Otoribashi."
"Ah. That's probably because Vice Captain Iba is more memorable than he was."
You mumbled something about going out to buy the cigarettes, not the Japanese stuff, your captain has preferred the imported kind. "Say, way back when, they called you the hundred sheather because of your shikai."
"Uh-huh."
"Now that you're submitting yourself as captain and revealing your bankai for the exam, what kind of nick name they'll come up with next?"
For a good two seconds, I raised an eyebrow and pretended to consider the ceiling. "Mr. 13 km?"
You dropped to your knees next to me in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and we laughed ourselves sick for the next five minutes.
*
"Vice Captain Ichimaru!"
There's this pleasure of not immediately turning around in recognition when an insignificant academy student called out my name. Especially when my first impression of him was a whimpering crybaby.
A blond haired academy student was rushing towards me along the academy's hallway, trying hard not to run. Right in front of me, he paused to catch his breath.
"I-I heard that you're getting a promotion, Vice Captain Ichimaru." The boy managed to say between the intake of air, "Congratulations."
"Thanks. You're awfully well informed, uh..."
"I'm Izuru, Kira Izuru, sir!"
Truth was, Aizen already had me checking his detailed background along with his two friends. He already had this one pegged as the obedient type, the kind who'll gladly jump through hoops or throw themselves into pits of molten lava without question. And then Aizen would simply walk away with his unsoiled shihakushou, ignoring the bloody foot tracks he’s making along the path. The last few decades had me trained for steering out of the brightest place; because right there you couldn't see the shadows he's been lurking under.
"I'm really looking forward to work with you in the 5th division, Vice Captain Ichimaru. I aspire to become someone as great as you!" There's this determined glint that burned like torches in his eyes as the words came flowing out of his mouth like an uncontrollable wave. Someone who didn't cower at my sight was a rarity these days, and finding specimens like Kira Izuru was considered quite a feat. Or I just have a strange fetish for blond crybabies.
"But I'll work even harder so one day I can become someone you can rely on!" Kira said, pounding on his chest proudly.
Oh, I thought. So that's what it was all about.
"Well," I grinned, and waved him goodbye as he bowed as low as he could, "I'll be waiting for ya then."
Captain Unohana was walking out of her Ikebana class when I ran into her, carrying a large vase of neatly arranged branches and flowers, and smiled maternally at me when I greeted her and offered to take her load.
"Say, Captain Unohana, will you be there for my captain examination?" I started, as she lead the way back into her head quarters.
"As per General Yamamoto's term, a senior captain is required on the exam. Captain Aizen has also enquired about my assistance on the matter. Although," Unohana's smile seemed to leave her eyes as she strained to look at me through the daffodils and branches, "I do not think my judgement will be hindered by any of your accomplishments or misgivings."
Silently, I gulped. The idea of slamming her hard work down the floor and making the run for it seemed too tempting, but the knowledge that she'd hunt me down and pay me back twice was hammered down at the back of my brain.
"What misgivings?" I tried to force the grin from slipping, and she gave me that too old and too refined look, as if she could see right through the cracks of my mask.
"Vice Captain Ichimaru," Unohana released a sigh, and I contemplated the convenience of murder by smiles, "It is normal to have doubts about a new work environment and new responsibilities. But I cannot see you developing even a remote interest in this, though many would kill for a chance like yours."
"Forgive me if I don't sound too eager for a promotion, Captain Unohana,” The authenticity felt unfamiliar against my tongue even, “but this is all happening too fast."
"The fact that you are approaching me instead of Kuchiki Ginrei or Ukitake Jyuushirou tells a lot."
"Captain Ukitake's health ain't getting any better, and Captain Kuchiki is busy preparing his grandson's promotion." I mentally ticked off the figure one by one, "And Captain Kyouraku said that he's not interested in helping out men."
"Still," she stopped as we reached the 4th division head quarters and she motioned for me to put down the vase, "I found your lack of interest to be unfascinating."
Currying favor has long been a disadvantage of mine, especially when I've successfully kept the record of being an abusive prick for years. But Aizen will have my head before I have his if I flunked this, so any measures taken is better in the long run.
"What do you think about a talented recruit?" I offered, still smiling, and Unohana's lips made the quirkest curve that suggested things were going to her liking, "And have I mentioned that he scored the highest at the academy's admission test?"
*
"If you become a captain," You said, because even then you knew I have no interest in the whole idea, "doesn't that mean you'll have the whole division ground all for yourself?"
"Oh right," I couldn't stop the sarcasm from sneaking into my tone, "Because all we used ta' have is a dilapidated shack in a middle of nowhere, I'm suddenly craving for a military sized barrack."
"No, silly," you whacked the top of my head, "the earth. Doesn't that mean you can plant anything on it?"
For the first time ever in the whole afternoon, I focused my gaze on your sneaky grin and understood.
It was common knowledge that great liars needed great memories, otherwise the webs of truth and inventions would be mixed together and spun sticky like a summer festival's cotton candy, and even then the liar wouldn't even know which one's reality or not anymore.
My memories were starting to loop endlessly one summer evening, screams of a former captain filling my brain, eight bodies splayed on the ground like experimental limbs gone wrong, white goo bleeding into a pharaoh’s mask on--
"What are you thinking about?" You asked, hair spilling out from your shoulders, your lips against my brow.
I turned around on your lap before my palm snaked on top of your exposed chest, fingers flattening possessively below your left collar bone, and something beneath your flesh and skin thumped quietly against mine.
I thought of time, and the time we were supposed to have.
"Nothing," I replied, and between the distance of my words and your heart, you have none to answer to that. “Do ya think ten persimmons seedling will suffice?”
*
The door to my office screeched loudly in protest as someone yanked it open forcibly.
Standing before me with his bangs now covering half of his eyes and facade stricken with contempt, was none other than Kira Izuru.
"Vice Captain Ichimaru," he started, not bothering to fix his hair or disheveled academy uniform, "May I have a word?"
"Hello to ya too," I said flatly, leering, "and please come in."
Gradually, he realized his mistake soon enough, and bowed before me, though not as low as he used to. "Forgive my sudden intrusion."
"What can I do fer ya, uh..."
He cringed a bit as he produced a piece of folded paper from his sleeve and slid it open in front of me, "It's Izuru, Kira Izuru, sir."
"What's this?" I picked up the letter, and pretended to gave it a good read, though in reality I've memorized the wording, "Request of Transfer Form, name: Kira Izuru, formerly 5th division, transferral request to 4th division, Reasons for transfer: unsuitable for heavy battles, kidou skills need more training...why are you showing me this?"
"Please look further down," he breathed out, exasperated, and I knew he's biting down a scream, "sir."
"Signed and authorized by Ichimaru Gin.... Hey, this person has the same name as me!" I flicked my eyes from the paper in hand to him and he flinched visibly, lower lip wobbling. "Vice Captain of 5th division....wait, this is me. Oh right, I wrote this."
"...Why?" He said, eyes shining, and for a moment I stopped sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck, thinking he's going to keel over and suffer a cardiac arrest, "why did you do that?"
I slid the form back to him, my smile still firmly attached. "I thought it would be fun for you."
"Y-you knew I wanted to be in the 5th," he continued, and shook his head wildly, and his voice trembled as he breathed his next line, "You knew I looked up to you."
"Naw, don't be like that," I said, light, and Kira's fisted hands slowly shook, "it's an honor to be working under one of Gotei 13's most experienced captain."
"The 4th division is for losers!" Finally, he raised his voice, angry tears streaming down his cheeks, "only the lowest scored of academy graduates go there, and you're saying it suits me!? This-"
Whatever line he's supposed to say died down, because already my fingers were upon his throat, and he choked, turning cold under my grip and my ominous smile. "You've got the nerve to say those words, boy. Imagine what Captain Unohana would do if she heard you."
He whimpered.
"So yer basically saying yer too good to scrub down the dungeons, hmm? 'Zat so?"
A trickle of his sweat dripped down the floor.
"Listen here, as ya seemed too eager to jump ahead and kill yerself," I continued, and beneath my thumb his pulse quickened, "There's nothing fun and exciting about battle. It's supposed to be fearsome, boy. Yer supposed to be scared about it. Battle is not a stage for empty heroics and nor is it something to take pleasure in. Battle is filled with despair. Dark, terrifying. That is the way that it should be. That way, people learn to fear battle and to choose the path of non-violence where possible. Do ya get that?"
For a fraction of second, I thought he already died from my words alone, because his eyes whitened and his neck was ice cold. But he managed a small nod at last, and as I loosened my hand, he collapsed to his knees, desperately massaging the marks I've left behind, finally remembering to breathe again.
"I have to go to the captain's examination," I made my way to the exit and paused at the doorway, "I'm not expecting ya to be here when I come back."
From his position, he stirred and looked at me through his bangs, eyes shining, features hard. "I won't be here. But I'll be there at the 3rd division, sir."
Recognizing the determination in his lines forced me to split my grin wider. "Remember to close the door on yer way out, Izuru."
*
Yamamoto's beard bristled along with the air stream, his cane tapping the ground beneath him, and three captains: Unohana Retsu, Tousen Kaname and of course, Aizen Sousuke, spread around him, their captain's cloaks billowing in the breeze.
A nameless forest in the northern most district of Rukongai was chosen for the exam, the most necessary precaution provided by ushering all souls that already gathered here to another district. An essay on my bankai was required, but ink on paper was barely essential when performance was regarded as louder. I have passed the interview section with flying colors, the bankai demonstration followed next.
"Begin by stating your name and title," Yamamoto's voice raised above the wind, and behind him Aizen was smiling, smiling and smiling and underneath it all was the knowledge that he'd never let my future career remain largely a footnote.
"I'm the 5th division Vice Captain, Ichimaru Gin," that's a weird name, Gin, "and I'll show ya my bankai."
The sound of Shinsou being unsheathed was a signal for all four of them to take position, and as I opened my eyes, a clear path was before me. Dipping the zanpakutou to my chest, I whispered to the elements, falling leaves lightly scraping our uniforms. "Bankai, Kamishini no Yari."
The ground trembled as trees crumbled and cut up leaves rained down to our feet, and Yamamoto emerged from one of a sliced, slightly charred giant trunk far, far from me, nary a piece of tree bark or a shred of leaf on his pristine cloak.
"Excellent," he said, rubbing his beard thoughtfully, and the temperature around us significantly rose as his cane melted into his zanpakutou. The sliding sound of Ryujinjyakka against the sheath sent my skin crawling with morbid, the muscles of my mouth remained tight. "Now let us begin the test."
"Kamishini no Yari," I lowered the sword and clasped it in front of my heart, remembering cranes and fair fingers out of wide, wide sleeves, quick bare feet that left visible tracks on snow. Frozen eyelashes that melt against my mouth. "Dance step, Serial Blade."
*
"You look good in that."
You waltzed into the office with a skip, and ran both hands up my chest to my shoulder, crumpling the crisp, new haori in your grab. "Really, really good."
"Thanks," I smiled, wide and genuine for once, "want to try it on?"
"Maybe later," you giggled against my jaw, "the ceremony starts only in an hour, right?"
"So? We still have an hour," I said, lips brushing the side of your mouth. "I'll shunpo the remaining distance."
"You're crazy," You looked up at the clock again, deciding not to argue with me. “Now don’t you dare pick a poor girl from the 3rd division and flirt with her.”
“Oh? Unless you wanted me to, I’m always up for more participants in our activities,” I suggested easily.
“You go do that, and I’ll finally make up my mind to seduce Kuchiki Byakuya….” You were gripping the front of my cloak now and gazed at me with half-lidded eyes, “he’ll need someone to help him go through the night after losing his wife.”
My smile grew wider. “I’ll stick with Iba Chikane-san, then.”
Again you ducked your face to muffle a chuckle, and I caught your smile slipping in a fraction of second, a seed of discomfort and hesitation forming in your eyes. You remembered a distant promise lost in the snow and prospects of a better life, of a time when we're each other's worlds.
I snaked both arms around your waist, fingers brushing lightly against Haineko's sheath and pulled you to me, and underneath the folds of my clothes, something in the void of my chest beat anew.
"I'm still here," I whispered into your hair, and you continued to press your cheek against my shoulder, rigid hands rumpling my sleeves, averting your eyes, and I instead remembered your promise to me. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Perhaps," you breathed, every syllable laced with doubt, and silently renew the vow of going down my path, "are you telling me the truth?"
I closed my eyes as I caught your chin and pressed your lips to mine, and the taste of you was bitter and sweet like distrust and love and hate at the same time, and I didn't need to answer.
*
The snow has melted into grey-white dust when I opened my eyes again. For a second, I thought the precipitant season has started again--but the rain was warm and salty, and the knowledge of it being thicker than anybody's blood that I've spilled still gnawed at my senses.
Far above us, reiatsu explosions rattled Karakura town, blazes of energy colored the sky black.
Your trembling fingers caught my face with the gentlest touch, as if I was made of glass.
As if I might die any second now.
I thumbed the bottom of your eye with my remaining hand, wiping away the moisture, and you're suddenly choking with more tears.
You called my name repeatedly in broken weeps, a gentle plea that hides none of the evident fright in your face.
What are you so afraid of?
All I saw in front of me was the little girl that used to latch on my back, stopping me from leaving.
The one that, after all these years, still very ticklish at her left ribcage.
The one that cried at sad stories.
The one that I wanted to make whole again, no matter what.
Your face sunk into my shoulder, mixing the tears with my blood, and beneath the strangled sobs you mouthed the words I've long to hear for decades.
All the sounds in the background faded into a haze as I buried my face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent until it seared my lungs and went on eternally, until I finally understood what it was supposed to mean.
Welcome home.