Chapter 1: Issues With Authority
Summary:
Kyoraku’s divergence from his usual taste in lieutenants causes quite the stir in the Eighth Division.
Chapter Text
It was the start of a new day, and as had become part of his morning routine, Gin settled down to perform Jinzen and speak with Shinsō. These conversations were not always deep and profound; sometimes they were just as brief as saying “hello” before continuing on with the day. But this time he did have something he wanted to discuss with his zanpakutō.
As usual, it was necessary to wait until Shinsō decided on the proper time to speak. Unlike in their early encounters where it was uncertain whether the sword spirit would even deign to talk to him, nowadays she seemed willing to converse with him after a few minutes or so. That, or his patience had grown enough so the wait did not feel as long as it used to; hard to determine without an accurate way to measure time in here.
Regardless of the true reason, it was not too long before Shinsō stirred and greeted sedately. “Welcome back, Gin. Come to chat about your recent excitement?”
“Yep, wanted to get yer input on it,” he nodded.
“And I wanted yours.”
That certainly sounded interesting. Gin settled down comfortably against a tree as he looked up at his zanpakutō spirit. “What’s on yer mind?”
“Why did you stop having fun with those men? There were all sorts of ideas I wanted to try out on them.”
Gin shrugged. “’Cause Rangiku didn’t like it.”
“And why should that matter? We were not forcing her to participate and we do not police her hobbies.”
“’Cause if I didn’t listen, then she wouldn’t be happy, an’ I wanna keep her happy.”
“Even if it means missing out on fun opportunities for us?” Shinsō frowned.
“Hey, I’d take a happy Rangiku over quality time with those trash any day,” Gin chuckled.
“I certainly won’t contest that point,” the Nagini conceded wryly. “She is indeed far more pleasant company.”
The boy’s smile turned fond. “Yeah, she is.”
Shinsō rolled her eyes. “Let’s change the subject. You have managed to achieve the rank of lieutenant in a very brief amount of time.”
The smile faded into something sadder. “Not ‘zactly the way I wanted it to happen.”
“True, but it still speaks well of your abilities that Kyōraku-taichō selected you to succeed her,” the snake woman pointed out. “But I’m curious: what kind of lieutenant do you intend to be?”
“Long term? Still workin’ on it.” His grin broadened mischievously. “But I got somethin’ special in mind fer this mornin’…”
At the same time Gin was chatting with Shinsō, Rangiku was also venturing into her inner world for a conversation with her own finicky partner.
In the years since she had achieved Shikai, Kazantora had grown from a mere cub to a full-sized tiger. And as the mighty cat aged, her appearance had shifted from that of a mundane beast to a force of nature that deigned to assume a feline form. Glowing magma and solid obsidian replaced orange and black stripes, and the white fur was supplanted by wisps of ash that floated on the wind. But in spite of her destructive aura, Kazantora’s eyes still matched the hues of a healthy pine forest.
Gin told her before about Shinsō’s habit of making him wait before they finally sat down for a talk. Kazantora had a different prerequisite, something one would not expect from the personification of Gaia’s fury.
“Tag, you’re it!”
The powerful spirit batted her wielder and took off running.
Not quite managing to fight back a smile, Rangiku set off in pursuit, the contrails of ash providing an easy trail to follow. “Aren’t we too old for tag now?”
“One can never be too old to practice speed, reflexes, and cunning!” Kazantora hollered back as she dashed through the trees.
The shinigami maintained pursuit. “Oh, is that your excuse?”
“It’s not an excuse if it’s true!”
While it had been grating at first, Rangiku had to admit that these games Kazantora coerced her into were fun. Being in her inner world, she did not need to worry about silly things like “exhaustion,” so she could run to her heart’s content.
And it was not always tag. Their activities included hide-and-seek, tug of war, and wrestling. Despite the surface jocularity, the young strawberry-blonde found these sessions to be fairly therapeutic, helping her shake off the last dregs of sleep before she had to go on duty.
Once they had their fun, sword and wielder lay down in a clearing, and the latter started by noting, “You certainly are aiming to be a workaholic.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” her mistress sounded very offended by the accusation.
“Your mission to be Gin’s conscience.”
Rangiku grimaced. “Oh. That.”
“Why were you so vehement to stop Gin from giving those thugs their due?” Kazantora sounded less disapproving and more curious.
“It wasn’t necessary,” the girl frowned thoughtfully. “It’d be one thing if we were still out in the Rukongai, but even then I would’ve told Gin to just kill them and get it over with, not drag out their pain. We live in the Seireitei now, and one of the reasons I found the idea of becoming a shinigami so appealing was to escape the need to resort to such savagery to survive.”
“The people here are more welcoming than they were in the Rukongai,” the feline agreed. “And you wish to help Gin realize the boon of having positive social interactions and ethical standards?”
Rangiku nodded. “It wasn’t until the incident the other night that I really started to reconsider those warnings Lisa-san and Odaka-san gave me about Gin’s… antisocial tendencies. It took me this long to truly realize how aside from Kyōraku-taichō and Lisa-san, Gin really didn’t hang out with anyone else on his own; it was always through us that he interacted with others.”
“When you only ever see one side to somebody, it can be difficult to imagine them acting differently.” Head between her paws, Kazantora lashed her tail idly with eyes closed. “There is one part of your little argument that I don’t think you did quite right, though.”
“What is that?” Rangiku frowned as she tried to recall everything she said.
“Your remark that if he didn’t listen to you, he would forever be a monster.”
The girl absorbed the critique, then grimaced as the implications settled in. “I didn’t mean to sound so controlling, like he had to obey everything I said.”
“I know, and I don’t think there was any lasting harm in this instance. But you should be more mindful going forward if you truly wish to be a voice of conscience for him.” The sword spirit raised her heat to look at her mistress. “But that is only one part.”
Her tone made Rangiku wince. “And the other?”
“If Gin had indeed ignored your counsel and continued to treat those thugs as he wished, would you truly consider him to be irredeemable?”
The young woman furrowed her brow as she mulled the question over now that she was no longer in the heat of the moment. “Well, thinking about it now… maybe not?”
“Would you have forsaken him as a lost cause, cut ties with him as a friend?”
“Never!” Rangiku retorted vehemently. “I’d stay with him! I would still try to teach him, to get him to see that he went too far, and convince him to avoid making the same mistake again!”
Kazantora adopted a satisfied look. “Good. I would be disappointed if you so easily gave up on someone you loved.”
“As a friend!” she squeaked and went bright red. “And of course I won’t give up on him!”
The volcanic cat hummed, evidently choosing not to comment on the first part at this time. She instead directed her attention back to the main topic. “Keep that attitude, and I believe you will have little difficulty in helping Gin the way you wish.”
“Thanks,” Rangiku relaxed and let out a frustrated huff. “And I guess you’re right about one thing.”
The tigress tilted her head. “As I’m right about everything, you will have to be more specific.”
Rangiku rolled her eyes and continued forlornly, “With all the effort it’ll evidently take, being Gin’s conscience might actually turn me into a workaholic.”
Case in point: when she arrived at the office, Rangiku saw the huge pile waiting in her inbox. Not that she was not sincerely grateful that Kyōraku had granted her request to work alongside Gin in a more official capacity, even giving her a promotion to Seventh Seat. Unfortunately, one of the consequences of being the “personal assistant” to the lieutenant of the Eighth Division was the increased paperwork load.
Ugh, the things she did for friendship.
However, it came as a surprise to see that she was the first one here. Not on account of the captain, as everyone knew it was more unusual for him to be present at this time of day. But Gin, for all his trickster mannerisms, was far more reliable when it came to administrative duties.
Well, if her superiors were not in yet, then Rangiku saw no need to start working. She plopped herself down on the couch and closed her eyes to enjoy a bit more time to rest, though still wondering what was keeping her friend.
Alas, it was only a few minutes later when Gin casually strode into the office, marking the start of her workday.
“You’re late,” she commented as she reluctantly got up and moseyed over to her desk.
“Only a lil’ bit,” he returned as he took his place behind his own workstation and started reviewing his pile. “’Sides, had to run an errand as part o’ my new duties as lieutenant.”
“What errand?” Rangiku asked curiously.
Gin gifted her with an impish smirk. “You’ll find out soon.”
Suddenly wary, she pressed more insistently, “What did you do?”
“An’ spoil the surprise?” he grinned back at her. “Really, jus’ have a lil’ patience, Rangiku.”
“I’m getting the feeling that I need some preparation more than I need patience!”
Before Gin could defend his stance further, the point was rendered moot by the sudden appearance of Kyōraku Shunsui at the door, a grim look on his face.
“Taichō?” she jumped. “What’s going on?”
“Hello, Rangiku-chan,” he sent a greeting her way without looking. Instead, the focus of his gaze centered right on the recently promoted lieutenant, and she suddenly got an inkling of what his so-called “errand” involved. “Ichimaru Gin, care to explain to why you tried to poison me?”
The Seventh Seat choked at the accusation. Her head whipped around to see Gin’s rebuttal.
To her confusion, he simply tilted his head with an amused grin, as if he was oblivious or apathetic to the possibility that he might very well go down as the lieutenant with the shortest tenure in the history of the Gotei 13. “Technically, that’s the exact opposite o’ what I did.”
As Rangiku tried to puzzle out what that remark meant, Kyōraku uttered in a most dire and offended tone, “Gin… you put water in my morning sake jar!”
It all became clear. Rangiku palmed her face as she felt relief and exasperation simultaneously. “Gin watered down your sake?”
“No!” The handsome drunk rounded on her with a livid expression. “Even worse! That little hooligan,” he stabbed an accusing finger at their happy playmate, “contrived to replace the divine nectar I spent a fortune on with bland, tasteless water! Not even a whiff of alcohol to be found!”
“Well, ya still got a stash in yer desk drawer,” Gin pointed out with no trace of remorse. “Long as yer here, might as well get some work done. At least ya got somethin’ to take the edge off, amirite?”
The normally easygoing captain regarded his new Second Seat with an unamused gaze. Gin responded with a completely amused gaze.
Finally, Kyōraku sighed. With a defeated air he stalked over and took up post at his desk. “And here I thought you would be a nice lieutenant…”
“Have ya paid any ‘ttention to me at all the last eight years?” Gin snickered, to which Rangiku giggled.
The old soldier shook his head, lamenting their open insubordination as he reluctantly got to work.
Taking the first page from the stack and looking it over, he frowned at what he saw: the final verdict issued on Tanaka Ichirō, Sato Tarō, and Narita Akio for their actions the other night. It was nothing he had not heard already directly from Yamamoto’s sentencing at the trial itself the day before, just the official report that was being delivered to all divisions. But it still triggered unpleasant thoughts about what could have happened to Rangiku.
Crimes committed by shinigami typically had three levels of jurisdiction.
Should the consequences of the offense be limited to within their division, then punishment was left solely to the discretion of that shinigami’s direct superior. If the infraction was severe enough but still limited to the division in scope, the case would be brought to the captain’s attention, and their judgment could be as strict or lenient as they saw fit.
However, in the case of incidents affecting another division, such as the recent altercation between his two kids and the three ruffians from the Fifth, then the matter was brought to the captains. Depending on the severity of the case, full attendance was not necessarily mandatory, though any captain was free to observe and issue their statements, but it was Yamamoto who declared the final verdict.
Only when incidents considered severe enough to affect the whole Gotei 13 or Soul Society, or were committed against individuals not part of the Gotei 13, did the Central Forty-Six preside over the case, with the Hollowfication Incident being such an example.
So for the charges of attempted assault of a shinigami in another division and attempted assault on a superior officer, Tanaka, Sato, and Narita fell under the jurisdiction of the second type. After a tribunal of the captains, each criminal’s punishment was handed out.
Narita Akio had received the harshest sentence, for not only was he guilty of the aforementioned charges, his blatant unrepentance and quick temper exacerbated his situation, leading him to be sentenced to six hundred thirty years in the first level of the Central Great Underground Prison.
Tanaka Ichirō had been smarter, and as sullen as he was during the trial, he had wisely kept his mouth shut during the proceedings, avoiding the extended sentence that had befallen Narita with four hundred eighty years.
Despite instigating the incident in the first place, Sato Tarō received the lightest sentence, due to him being the most conciliatory of the accused during the trial and technically only making an assault on “just” an Eighth Seat, never making a move against a lieutenant. While his agreeableness obviously stemmed more from trying to lessen his sentence than any true remorse, it did result in a mere fifty-five years in the same prison as his cohorts.
Additionally, all three had been stripped of their ranks, and should they survive their prison terms to return to the Gotei 13, they would be received as unseated officers. While this would be humiliating for Third Seat Tanaka and Twelfth Seat Tarō, it had to be especially infuriating for Narita, who had only attained the rank of Twentieth Seat a few months before.
Finally, the three convicts had their assets seized, and after a tax deduction, the net proceeds were deposited into Rangiku’s account. Shunsui made a note to meet with the Rukongai girl so she did not spend her new gains all at once. While office work introduced the lower-income shinigami to the concepts of budgeting funds, they did not always think to carry that mentality to their personal finances.
And though Shunsui wished it was not a factor, since all three were from the Rukongai, there was no chance a noble would intercede on their behalf, so it was guaranteed they would serve their full sentence.
In short, all three thugs would never be a threat to Rangiku again.
On a lighter note, the girl had spoken with Kyōraku afterwards about how she wanted to be sure Gin developed on right ethical focus, effectively taking up Lisa’s sword on that cause. He was glad to hear that it was off to a good start, considering how Rangiku had reined in her friend the night of the incident, even if legally it would have been quite easy to acquit Gin of any wrongdoing.
The boy already had an intimidating reputation in the Eighth that would make it difficult for the lower ranks to accept him as their lieutenant, so news that he tortured three shinigami to death would not endure him to them, even taking into account why. As it was, the rumors that spread through the Eighth in the aftermath was not Gin being a sadistic snake who happened to select acceptable targets, but instead a valiant fox who had protected a beloved member of the division.
Their subordinates were still wary of the trickster, of course, but their opinions had softened a bit, making this a promising start to Gin’s career as a lieutenant.
Putting these musings out of his mind, Kyōraku signed off on the report, set it aside to be filed, and continued on to the next form.
Gin’s morning antics aside, it turned into a relatively normal workday. There was still a heavy atmosphere with the loss of Lisa in the backs of their minds, but they still managed to maintain their focus on work, even Rangiku (for the most part).
The only interruption came with a knock on the office door late in the morning. The permission to enter revealed the guest to be Shigeta Tsukimi, recently promoted from Fourth to Third Seat to fill the place vacated by Gin. She was a lovely slender brunette, a vague resemblance to the late Yadōmaru Lisa, though with brown eyes instead of blue. Combined with her longer administrative experience within the Eighth Division, Kyōraku knew full well his division was surprised (and disappointed) that Gin had been chosen as his new lieutenant instead of her.
“Kyōraku-taichō, may I have a word with you?” Shigeta requested. After glancing at the other two officers in the room, she added, “In private?”
“Of course, Tsukimi-chan.” He turned to his studious subordinates. “Gin, Rangiku-chan, since it’s almost noon, why don’t you go ahead and take your lunch break?”
“Yes, sir!” The prospect of leaving work behind saw Rangiku halfway out the door. Grabbing her friend’s hand, she practically yanked him away from his desk. “Come on, Gin!”
The new lieutenant only had time enough to call out a “bye-bye” as he was enthusiastically tugged out of the office, the door shut behind them.
Raising an eyebrow at the quick departure, Shigeta asked, “They’ll be spending their break making out, won’t they?”
“I’m afraid not.” Kyōraku rested his chin on one hand with a fond smile. “Rangiku-chan is still in denial and Gin is still oblivious, so you haven’t won the betting pool yet.”
Tsukimi pouted. “Just you wait, they’ll get over themselves and then all over each other any day now.”
The captain snickered but then asked more seriously, “You didn’t come here just to gossip about our young lovebirds, did you?”
“No, sir,” the Third Seat affected a more professional demeanor. “Though it is related to Ichimaru-fukutaichō.”
“Oh? Did he do something else this morning other than abscond with my sake?”
“He did what?” she traitorously giggled at the news. Upon her captain’s dire glare, she cleared her throat and continued, “No, this is not about anything he has done. I’m just… confused. Why did you select him to be your lieutenant?”
“Because he’s smart, strong, a good worker, and a quick learner,” he answered without hesitation, almost as if he was preparing to field this question a lot.
“But he is also young, hasn’t been a shinigami even a decade,” Shigeta pointed out.
“And Ukitake wanted to make Shiba Kaien his lieutenant almost immediately after graduating from the Academy,” the Eighth’s commander countered.
“Shiba-fukutaichō was older, and had more training from his family beforehand.”
The captain appeared unfazed by this argument. “Like I said, Gin’s a quick learner, so he’ll catch on.”
“I do not doubt that he will one day be a fine vice-captain, but I have my reservations about him being ready for the role now.”
“But you are?” the captain smiled knowingly.
To her credit, Shigeta flushed at how he had predicted the direction of her conversation. Still, she managed to reply, “I… do not think myself any less ready than Ichimaru-san.”
“I will grant you that, as you were indeed my other prime candidate to be my lieutenant,” Kyōraku assured her.
“I’m glad to hear I at least merited serious consideration. But why did you ultimately favor him over me?”
“I told you, because he is a quick learner.” It seemed she needed more reassurance, so he continued, “Tsukimi-chan, at the rate Gin is going, he’ll be captain-class within a half-century, if not sooner. I have no doubt that once a position opens up, he’ll apply to get his haori, leaving the seat open for you again… if another captain hasn’t noticed your talents and snatched you up for themselves by then.”
Shigeta considered his words with a frown. While several decades was not a short wait for that prestigious promotion, due to the extended natural lifespans of shinigami it was not an especially long one, either. Her rise from Sixth Seat to Third in less than ten years was only due to the unfortunate deaths or discharges of her superior officers after the recent disasters in the world of the living. If it were not for those events, she likely would still be a Sixth Seat.
“I understand where you are coming from, but I still have one other concern about Ichimaru in his current position,” Tsukimi affirmed.
“And that is?”
“Ichimaru-fukutaichō lacks faith from… most of his subordinates.”
“That is true,” Kyōraku agreed with a sage nod. “But it is also one of the issues I aim to remedy. Besides, haven’t you noticed some of the progress he’s already made?”
“I have,” the Third Seat conceded. “I remember being afraid of Ichimaru-san after he joined the Eighth, worried that he would take advantage of his position to carry out cruelties against his subordinates.”
“And now?”
Her gaze drifted over the floor as she reached up to rub her neck anxiously. “I… still feel uneasy around him, but after noticing the positive effect Matsumoto-kun had on him, he… no longer feels like an imminent danger.”
“Then don’t you think that given his progress so far, if we continue to help him down his current path, he will become someone our division can believe in?”
“I suppose so.” Shigeta appeared ready to concede defeat by this point. “Thank you for addressing my concerns, Kyōraku-taichō.”
“Not a problem,” the captain smiled at her. “You’re still a valued member of this division, so I want to be sure you know that.”
“I appreciate that, sir.” With a bow she turned to the door, then paused, as though debating whether or not to speak up. “While I will trust your decision, sir, and I will do my utmost to quell any concerns others might have on this matter, there are some who remain unsatisfied.”
Shunsui had expected this, and indeed was already mentally listing potential suspects. To confirm his evaluation, he inquired, “There any specific officers you think will most likely cause trouble?”
“There is one whom I believe plans on making a move against Ichimaru-fukutaichō soon…”
“All right, let’s get this meeting underway,” Fourth Seat Takashima Hideki stated to his fellow coconspirators after making sure Ichimaru Gin was not “innocently” standing nearby to listen in. “I think we all agree that we are less than satisfied by our new lieutenant.”
There was some shifting and exchange of glances here. “I mean, a week ago I would, but after that incident where he protected Matsumoto-kun, I’m not as worried as before,” Sixth Seat Hosokawa Ikuko demurred.
“Ichimaru-fukutaichō does indeed deserve full credit for his actions the other night,” the Fourth Seat nodded to the female officer. “However, it only continues the pattern we’ve all noticed about him, that the only person he cares about is Matsumoto-kun. There are no assurances that he would extend that empathy to us.”
“Didn’t he help save Odaka-san’s life though, during the Sanriku Earthquake a few years back?” Ikuko recalled.
“A mutual alliance in face of a common enemy,” Hideki explained patiently. “While it is a relief that we can rely on Ichimaru-fukutaichō in battle, it is certainly only when it would also benefit him. What do you think would happen in a scenario where he stood nothing to gain for rendering assistance?”
“Do you really think Kyōraku-taichō would appoint him as lieutenant if he felt our well-being was at risk?” she asked pointedly.
“Not deliberately,” Fifth Seat Iwasaki Kenkichi chimed in. “But Ichimaru was likely only selected because he is now the second strongest shinigami in the Eighth, and it would be the best way for Kyōraku-taichō to keep an eye on him. I’m willing to bet that promotion is as much a leash as it is a boon.”
“So it seems to me there’s not much we can or even should do about it,” the other Sixth Seat, Hidoshi Aki, remarked sullenly.
“That’s not necessarily true,” Takashima drew himself up with an officious air.
Silence descended on the room. “What are you suggesting?” Hosokawa asked suspiciously.
The Fourth Seat rose a placating hand. “Nothing drastic, I assure you. I propose that we host a party, on the pretext of both celebrating Ichimaru-fukutaichō’s new promotion and congratulating his protection of Matsumoto-kun.”
“Takashima-san, if your grand plan involves poisoning Ichimaru-fukutaichō’s drink, I’d advise against it,” Iwasaki cut in. “Forget our new lieutenant, Kyōraku-taichō would be the one after our heads for wasting sake like that.”
“And in the high likelihood of failure, Ichimaru would no doubt consider the attempt as an open invitation for retaliation,” Hidoshi added.
“Of course not, you idiots!” the senior officer protested in annoyed exasperation. “Didn’t you hear me just say it was nothing drastic?!”
Iwasaki held up his hands defensively. “Just making sure we all agree that an attempted assassination would be a bad idea.”
“Not to mention murder is a bit of a disproportionate response to him being creepy,” Ikuko added dryly.
“Yes, it is,” Takashima agreed in a curt tone. “Now as I was going to say before you lot raised baseless assumptions about my intentions, the offer of a party itself will be a test for Ichimaru. If he refuses it, it will be an additional piece of evidence to Kyōraku-taichō that he’s an ill fit for being a lieutenant of the Eighth.”
“Normally, I’d say turning down a shindig is poor proof of lacking character, but this is the Eighth,” Iwasaki tapped his chin thoughtfully.
“Of course the refusal by itself would be insufficient grounds,” Takashima agreed. “It would simply the newest example of Ichimaru’s antisocial tendencies proving him to be a poor match for our division.”
Hosokawa stirred in her seat. “And if he does accept?”
“Then we hold the party, and that’s when the next test will happen,” the Fourth Seat explained. “And that’s where you come in, Hidoshi.”
“Wait, what?” Aki sat upright nervously. “Why me?”
“Because out of everyone in the Eighth Division, you stand the best chance in issuing Ichimaru-fukutaichō the challenge.”
Unfortunately for Sixth Seat Hidoshi Aki, Ichimaru Gin had passed the first test and accepted the offer of a celebration, which meant he must now to carry out the second part of Takashima’s plan.
The voluntold officer considered himself an average man. He was born into a middling noble family in the Seireitei with decent ties to the Tsunayashiro, and since their primary patrons no longer had any direct control over a division in the Gotei, he had instead enlisted in the one overseen by their close ally the Kyōraku clan. He performed his duties adequately, but possessing only mediocre spiritual power, his climb through the ranks took several decades to reach his recently attained position of Sixth Seat.
Aki had long since made his peace with where he stood in the world, but he admitted it was sometimes difficult to watch younger shinigami shoot past him in the ranks, as was the case with two certain members of the Eighth. While Matsumoto Rangiku had yet to surpass him, the fact that she made it his former rank of Seventh Seat in six years when it took him four decades did sting. Still, it was easily ameliorated by how affable and charismatic she proved to be.
The real problem was Ichimaru Gin.
Unlike others who feared their smiling prodigy, Hidoshi’s unease did not derive from the hypothetical agonizing acts of torture Ichimaru could potentially concoct. Despite rumors to the contrary, the Sixth Seat had not found any proof that the serpentine shinigami ever acted on any of those cruel impulses. No, the silver snake’s preferred flavor of sadism involved letting his creepy aura and faux-polite words be sufficient to rouse his target’s imagination into a state of frenzy. From his observations (and personal experience), Ichimaru was a creature that found true satisfaction in being able to break a person without laying a finger on them.
Only in one other setting did Hidoshi find individuals of kindred spirit to Ichimaru Gin: amongst the most ruthless and influential schemers of the nobility, where a single word from them could destroy a shinigami’s career and potentially erase their very existence from the Seireitei. Most of the time, there was even a pragmatic reason to do so.
Aki was not sure if it was a sign that Ichimaru was an abandoned bastard child of a noble, was adopting mannerisms of the upper class as a means to mock them, or just was a natural at this art of intimidation. In any scenario, the young serpent’s uncanny imitation of the movers and shakers of Soul Society was the real reason why he dreaded any interaction with him.
Needless to say, Hidoshi had been less than pleased to learn this same ominous individual was now the second-in-command of the Eighth Division. Though as much as he would have preferred that Kyōraku had chosen Shigeta Tsukimi instead, he could reluctantly see the reasons why. Vile aura aside, Ichimaru Gin was undoubtedly one of the most powerful and competent shinigami in the Eighth Division, with spiritual power levels alone easily qualifying him for the rank.
All of which exacerbated Aki’s anxiety about confronting that terrifying child at the behest of Fourth Seat Takashima as he did now, facing him across the chosen arena, the weapons already laid out for the participants to utilize.
Captain Kyōraku took it upon himself to officiate the duel, his ever-present sake jar in hand. Once he was sure attention was on him, he proclaimed, “All right, we all know the rules. First to pass out or surrender loses and has to get up to go to work on time in the morning, while the winner gets the day off.”
He poured sake into two cups and set them in front of Hidoshi and Ichimaru.
“Kanpai!”
To be continued…
Author’s Note: In one of the early drafts for this chapter, it was my original intention for Gin to be challenged to a more conventional duel in the arena by the disgruntled and jealous Third Seat (who at that point I had not fleshed out), and the mark of his character development would be (on advice from Rangiku) being a good sport on winning. There was even a line I liked where Gin said respectfully to his opponent, “Good bout, I can tell why Kyōraku-taichō made ya our Third Seat. Hope now yer willin’ to see why he made me the lieutenant.”
But then I remembered that this was the Eighth Division, not the Eleventh, and suddenly challenge by drinking contest seemed to be the only appropriate way to truly get accepted by his subordinates.
Not to mention that as I sat down and let that first conversation between Kyōraku and the new Third Seat unfold, it ended up being far more civil than I expected, to the point I had a different officer end up challenging Gin. And even the confrontation between Gin and his opponent ended up with less sneering and arrogant diatribes when I decided to bring back an OC I initially designated for a one-time use, and give him the opportunity to overcome his fear of Gin. Even the conspiracy meeting ended up being less insidious than I initially had in mind as I got them talking. Between the laid-back culture I had established for the Eighth and how Gin does have a few things going for him by now in the eyes of his subordinates, a more belligerent confrontation just seemed forced and contrived.
With all the OCs I’ve introduced, I hope I am not overwhelming the readers with them. My rule of thumb with OCs is to only use them when canon characters cannot fill the role, but despite the vast amount of characters in “Bleach,” we unfortunately get scant few of them when they’re shinigami Third Seat and below. And to be honest, none of the OCs featured so far had been ones I’ve had any grand plans for initially; I just gave them names because I wanted to avoid the “background characters are meaningless” trope.
Thanks for the kudos and special mention to those who left comments: FateAmenableToChange, Juyho76, DIO_Lucifuru99, hiddenmasquerade, lyannyan, Sun1ny, Lord_grievous, kelsh, RirukasBagels, Nandina, zeromegumi, kanracake, Lady_Luscinia, and joben123.
Omake: Shinigami Illustrated Guide
“Okay, so this was passed on to me from Kyōraku-taichō,” Third Seat Shigeta Tsukimi declared to the other officers of the Eighth Division. “There is now a standard procedure when it comes to dealing with Ichimaru-fukutaichō’s behavior.”
“Thank goodness,” Sixth Seat Hosokawa Ikuko sighed. “What is it?”
“In the event that Ichimaru-fukutaichō’s ‘teasing’ gets too much, ask him if this is something Matsumoto-kun would approve of,” the senior officer stated.
When it was clear there were no other instructions forthcoming, Fifth Seat Iwasaki Kenkichi deadpanned, “Is that it?”
“It’s all we have,” Tsukimi shrugged. “But I would recommend using it sparingly, to prevent the strategy from losing its effectiveness from overuse.”
“Question.”
The other officers immediately parted and snapped their attention to the speaker, one Ichimaru Gin. Because of course he managed to sneak in and pretend that it was everyone else’s fault that no one noticed his presence.
Tsukimi’s eye twitched as she dutifully replied, “What’s your question, Ichimaru-fukutaichō?”
“Does sittin’ around an’ waitin’ to see how long it takes fer people to notice me count as teasin’ too much?” the skulker asked cheerfully.
Against her better judgment, Shigeta answered, “No, I would consider that as within the bounds of socially accepted teasing… unless you’re sneaking into someone’s private quarters. Or the women’s baths. Then that’s too far.”
“All right, good to know!” Ichimaru nodded before trotting out of the room.
After they were sure he was out of earshot, Takashima Hideki demanded quietly, “Why didn’t you tell him not to do that anymore?!”
“Because if giving us some jump-scares is the worst prank he’ll ever pull on us, I’ll consider that a win!” the Third Seat hissed back.
Chapter 2: The Hangover
Summary:
The morning after the party, Gin finds out that there is indeed something he can be embarrassed by.
Chapter Text
“It’s time to wake up.”
The slumbering individual groaned groggily as he was roused to consciousness against his will by a gentle voice mercifully doing its utmost to avoid exacerbating his migraine.
“Don’t wanna,” he protested the wake-up call.
“Sorry, but you agreed to the terms of the duel.”
The duel?
Dragged further away from the bliss of sleep, it took several moments for him to remember what happened the previous day.
The whole debacle had its origins in Fourth Seat Takashima Hideki approaching Ichimaru Gin and Matsumoto Rangiku after work a few days earlier. “Ichimaru-fukutaichō, may I speak with you?”
Gin raised an interested brow. It was rare for people to approach him directly, instead preferring to use Rangiku as their intermediary for requests and messages. “Sure, what’s on yer mind?”
“Some of the officers were thinking about your recent promotion, and how you had protected Matsumoto-kun, and we felt that a celebration would be in order,” Takashima explained as they faced each other on a covered walkway. “Would you accept our offer of holding a party in your honor?”
The sly lieutenant was immediately suspicious. While it could just be a case of the officers wanting any excuse to throw a party (this was the Eighth, after all), he intuited that there was some scheme at work here. The real question was whether it was in the Fourth Seat’s plan for the vice-captain to accept or decline this offer.
Perhaps he should take a third route, and authorize a party but leave himself out of the equation? He was quite sure the shinigami would enjoy themselves far more with his absence.
But before he could voice this reasonable compromise, Rangiku interjected, “I think that’s a great idea! Gin, please accept!”
At her bright, petitioning gaze, Gin felt little inclination to deny her. Regardless of whatever Takashima’s ulterior motive might be, the silver teen decided he’d be able to handle it. “Sure. Thanks fer bein’ so thoughtful.”
“It is our pleasure, Ichimaru-fukutaichō,” the Fourth Seat bowed. “Shall we schedule the party in four days’ time?”
“Sounds good,” Gin nodded. “Anythin’ else?”
“There is not. May I be dismissed to begin the preparations?”
“Go ahead,” the youthful lieutenant waved him off. After the older man had bowed and left, Gin looked to Rangiku. “Ya know that they’ve got somethin’ cookin’ with that offer, right?”
“I would hope so; it’s not a good idea to drink sake on an empty stomach,” she grinned at him.
“That ain’t what I meant and ya know it,” he returned in amused exasperation, and looked back to the departing Takashima. “Don’t ya find it suspicious that they’re wantin’ to throw me a party in spite of my rep?”
“It could just be a peace offering,” Rangiku countered hopefully. “You know, a way to be on good terms with the new vice-captain.”
“I dunno, somethin’ tells me this ain’t jus’ a way to suck up to me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re being paranoid. Just take this offer in the spirit that it was intended, and try having fun with everyone at the party.”
“All right, all right…”
The party had started off without a hitch. In an unspoken agreement that it was best for all concerned, no one called for a speech. Shinigami simply offered their congratulations on Ichimaru’s promotion and their gratitude for ensuring Matsumoto’s safety before getting down to brass tacks. In no time at all, the festivities were on.
Hidoshi Aki knew that while he should not be too hasty in issuing the challenge, it would be a worse idea to dawdle on the task, so he kept a careful eye on Ichimaru for the opportune moment.
As expected, the lieutenant was sitting next to Matsumoto as she engaged in pleasant conversation with Sixth Seat Hosokawa Ikuko and a couple other officers. While clearly paying attention, he said little, content to relax with his best friend. It was honestly rather surreal to see the conniving youth with such a sedate expression on his face. Between that and his own instinctual fears, Aki was tempted to let sleeping serpents lie and wait until another time to have this confrontation.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Hidoshi flinched at the reprimand and sent a scowl to the speaker. Fifth Seat Iwasaki Kenkichi was unfazed by the dark look. “You know what you need to do.”
The Sixth Seat took a deep breath to steel himself. As much as he hated to admit it, Iwasaki was right; this needed to be done. And with Hosokawa in the same group Ichimaru, and Fourth Seat Takashima Hideki not too far away speaking with Third Seat Shigeta Tsukimi, now was as good as time as any to initiate the confrontation.
Aki strode forward to his target, grateful that Iwasaki was right beside him as he did so; he needed all the moral support he could get.
Hosokawa was the first to acknowledge their approach as an understanding expression crossed her face, but she quickly schooled it behind a casual smile and greeted them, “Hey, Hidoshi-san, Iwasaki-san! Good to see you!”
“Likewise,” the Fifth Seat replied warmly.
“Thank you, Hosokawa-san,” Hidoshi replied, and nodded to each of the other officers in turn, reserving the lieutenant for last. Just managing to keep his anxiety contained, he said, “And Ichimaru-fukutaichō, congratulations on your promotion, and thank you for protecting Matsumoto-kun.”
“Thanks fer the first bit, an’ the second bit was my pleasure,” Gin replied cheerfully. “So, y’all enjoyin’ the party?”
“Yep!” Iwasaki answered enthusiastically.
“Yeah,” Aki’s concurrence was less than convincing. He cleared his throat and continued, “So, word is that you haven’t completed the Eighth’s Challenge yet.”
Ichimaru shrugged. “That’s right; what about it?”
“Well, in honor of your promotion, how do you feel about knocking that off your To-Do List now?” Hidoshi offered, and was pleased at how casually that came out.
Several people nearby leaned forward in interest upon hearing this. The Eighth’s Challenge was an informal rite of passage in the division; basically a glorified drinking contest. It was hardly a requirement to be a member of the Eighth, but any shinigami who wanted to stay for the long haul was expected to either issue or accept the challenge at least once.
“Well, sorry to disappoint, but that ain’t an item on my To-Do List,” Gin easily declined the offer.
Hidoshi blinked, and the other officers also sent Ichimaru weird looks. Their little “Test Ichimaru Conspiracy” had not expected this. While full acceptance of the challenge was not deemed the most likely outcome, they guessed the more probable response would be Ichimaru demurring on the grounds of his physical age, which would have been disappointing but acceptable. But to openly declare he never intended to do it at all cemented their concerns that Ichimaru was not a good fit as lieutenant of the Eighth Division.
Iwasaki spoke up. “Ichimaru-fukutaichō, I get you might not feel ready to do it now, but it is a tradition for our division to participate in the challenge at least once…”
“Do I look like a traditional fella to ya?” the vulpine officer smirked.
Matsumoto Rangiku finally had the opportunity to get her friend involved in a fun social activity that would aid in building a rapport with the other members of the Eighth, and so dove head-first into the conversation without reserve. “This isn’t just a tradition or an excuse to get drunk. There are more concrete reasons for it, too.”
Not just Gin, but most of the other officers seemed surprised by this revelation; only Hidoshi seemed to know of this underlying reason, and was pleased the Seventh Seat did too.
Always open to hearing what she had to say, the silver-haired boy replied, “Well, enlighten us.”
Rangiku drew herself up with an officious air, as though giving a lecture. “Obviously, drinking causes people’s inhibitions to lower, so when we all get drunk, we tend to say or do stupid and embarrassing things.”
“That’s the trend, yeah,” he agreed dryly.
She ignored him. “So, to be sure certain stories aren’t gossiped about, members of the Eighth are expected to participate so they can contribute mortifying stories to the pool. When everyone has something they don’t want spread, no one is inclined to talk.”
“Wait…” Gin appeared to be genuinely puzzled. “Yer tellin’ me that the point o’ the Challenge is to level the playin’ field, to ensure nobody tries to blackmail anybody?”
“I never thought about it that way, but now that you point it out, it makes sense,” Hosokawa stroked her chin thoughtfully.
“Yeah, I thought it was just a fun tradition myself,” Iwasaki admitted with a sheepish rub to the back of his head.
Gin did not like the dilemma presented before him, now that he was aware there might be more at stake than a simple contest. If he had a more trustworthy reputation, he might have been able to convince everyone that he had no intentions of using their drunken antics as blackmail material… well, not for any truly nefarious purposes, anyway. And if it were just up to him, Gin would continue to refuse to take part in such a match.
If there was one aspect of the Eighth that did not jive with Ichimaru Gin, it was the drinking culture. The number of corpses he witnessed in the Rukongai with sake jars in their cold hands served as vivid lessons of the folly of deliberately impairing one’s senses and reflexes.
But unfortunately, he had accepted Kyōraku’s request to be a lieutenant, and according to both the captain and Rangiku, that meant Gin needed to be more mindful of the individuals under his command. So if agreeing to a drinking contest was what was needed to put their minds at ease…
“All right, fine, if ya put it that way, then sure, I accept the challenge,” Gin sighed in exasperation, a tinge of rare annoyance also coloring his tone. “An’ if once is all that’s expected, then I might as well do it now an’ get it over with.”
“Very well, we will notify Kyōraku-taichō so we can get things set up,” Hidoshi bowed, then both he and Iwasaki left.
Gin wanted to glare at Rangiku for getting him into this mess, but unfortunately for him, she just smiled sweetly, immune to blame. The immutable laws of the universe compelled his smile to be more genuine in response. All the same, he still insisted on stating, “Jus’ don’t let me do somethin’ too dumb.”
“Oh come on, aside from the captain, you’re the most shameless guy I know,” the golden-haired girl giggled. “What could embarrass you?”
“I dunno, and I’d rather not find out.”
It only took a few minutes for a table to be set up and an inappropriate number of sake jars to be collected for the contest. Hidoshi and Iwasaki were already seated at one side of the table, awaiting their arrival as Gin and Rangiku worked their way through the crowd that had gathered to spectate the match. In doing so, they happened to overhear an exchange from one of the lower officers.
“He’s creepy enough sober, I wonder how bad he’ll get when drunk.”
“One shudders to imagine what inhuman thoughts lie behind that smile. What dreams of chronic and sustained cruelty?”
Gin could tell Rangiku was about to snap at that last comment, so he murmured to her, “That guy’s a drama queen, ain’t he?”
This worked to restore her good mood, and she gave a quick snort.
Captain Kyōraku took it upon himself to officiate the duel, his ever-present sake jar in hand. Once he was sure attention was on him, he proclaimed, “All right, we all know the rules. First to pass out or surrender loses and has to get up to go to work on time in the morning, while the winner gets the day off.” He then deftly poured sake into two cups and set them in front of Hidoshi and Ichimaru.
“Kanpai!” Kyōraku shouted.
“Kanpai!” everyone resounded in unison. With that both contestants downed their first round, the lieutenant choking a little bit as it burned his throat. While it was inaccurate to say that he had never imbibed, the young fox had also been extremely careful with his alcohol intake, nursing his drinks patiently and cutting himself off early, never letting himself go so far it would dull his edge. Chugging it down like this was a new experience.
Meanwhile, his full-grown opponent was double or maybe even triple his body mass and a far more experienced drinker, evidenced by how easily he had swallowed his portion and set the cup down on the table. The only advantage Gin had was his far higher reiatsu levels; the same pool of power that granted a shinigami enhanced stamina and resilience in battle also worked as delaying action against poisons… including alcohol.
“How do you find the sake, Ichimaru-fukutaichō?” Hidoshi inquired as if he had just taken a gulp of water.
“It’s good,” Gin hoarsely voiced his approval, and knew that it was only because of his intimidating reputation that none of the spectators expressed any amusement at his difficulty.
“I’m glad it’s to your liking,” Aki replied as he accepted the next round. “Considering how much you’ll be consuming in the near future, that is.”
“Mighty grateful fer that,” the younger participant grimaced as his own was placed in front of him.
While Gin’s second drink went down easier than his first, he still winced at the burning sensation. For his part, Hidoshi still seemed unaffected as he asked conversationally, “How are you settling into your new position, Ichimaru-fukutaichō?”
After making sure he would be able to answer clearly, he shrugged, “Still adjustin’. Lot more work to do than I thought.”
The older death god snorted and swirled his drink. “Did you think your promotion would not come with added responsibilities?”
“’Course not, but one o’ those ‘added responsibilities’ included makin’ sure Kyōraku-taichō took care o’ his responsibilities.”
This time amusement from the crowd came in the form of some giggles and snickers, and the captain pouted indignantly, “There’s no need to call me out like that. I ought to make you take an extra drink as a penalty.”
Chortling, both Gin and Aki ignored the threat and drank their next round, and for a time, this pattern held. They would gulp down one cup of sake after another, interspersed by bits of small talk.
Eventually though, after noticing Gin starting to relax and emboldened by the liquid courage he had thus far consumed, the comparatively more composed Hidoshi braved forward with the question that was on everyone’s minds. “Do you really think you can be a lieutenant like Yadōmaru Lisa?”
“If yer aimin’ to see me in a miniskirt, I’m afraid I’ll hafta disappoint ya.”
“Your words bring us relief, not disappointment,” Aki replied wryly. “But I am more questioning if you can look after the Eighth like she did.”
“Oh, ya want me to trade my smile in fer a frown and start readin’ pillow books on duty?” Gin returned. “Start sportin’ a pair o’ spectacles?”
Inhibitions lowered, Hidoshi found himself volleying back, “With the way you squint, maybe you should be doin’ that last one.”
“I can see jus’ fine,” the silver kit slurred. “The two o’ ya don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”
Aki stared flatly, unable to discern if Ichimaru was in denial about his eyesight, the alcohol was getting to him, or was just being facetious. “Right…”
Again the situation normalized: drink and chat, chat and drink. Only later, when the young vice-captain appeared thoroughly sloshed and barely holding on to consciousness did Hidoshi again ply for details.
“You know,” the Sixth Seat nevertheless was more careful in speaking, not unaffected by his own alcohol intake, “you never answered my question earlier ‘bout whether you can be a lieutenant like Yadōmaru-san.”
Gin's head was lolling, or perhaps he meant that as a shrug. “Hm, doubt it. I ain’t good with people, I’m creepy, so I know I ain’t ever gonna be well-liked.”
Despite the self-deprecation, the boy seemed indifferent to this analysis as he leaned forward lazily on his elbows. On the other hand, most of the spectators looked uncomfortable at how bluntly their general feelings had been laid out.
“Aw, don’t worry, Gin,” Rangiku leaned over and placed a reassuring arm over his shoulders. “I’ll always like you.”
“Thanks, Rangiku,” the prodigy grinned as he happily accepted the gesture of affection. “My point is, I don’t think I can be a lieutenant like Lisa-san, so I need to craft my own image o’ lieutenant o’ the Eighth Division.”
“And what image are you planning on crafting?” Hidoshi leaned forward with interest, as did several people around them.
“Haven’t quite settled on it yet… but I figure it more o’ what I’ve done so far.” Gin was speaking more slowly now. “Ya know, the sly, creepy trickster they’re… scared o’… but glad I’m on their side.”
“Wait,” Hidoshi strained to think through his alcohol-induced haze. “The reason you act the way you do… is ‘cause you don’t think… they’ll see you any other way? It’s all an act?”
“Not all… jus’ playin’ my strengths,” the lieutenant corrected him sleepily.
Hidoshi stared in disbelief. Unbelievable. Ichimaru Gin was trying so hard to put up this image that he thought was cool and impressive that he didn’t realize how counterproductive it was to his life. In other words, he was acting like the teenage boy he really was!
“What if… there was a chance for your shinigami to like you… instead of just fearing you?” Aki asked.
“Not likely to happen, so it’s irrel… irre… the point’s moot,” Ichimaru mumbled. “’Sides, how can ya ‘spect a guy with so lil’ heart… to care fer so many people?”
The earnestness of the question took everyone off guard (with two notable exceptions). After they had carefully downed their current serving of sake, Kyōraku was the one to answer, “It takes practice, like any other skill. Just because it’s one of the few you’re not naturally talented at doesn’t mean it’s a trait out of your reach.”
At this point, Gin was just barely conscious, lying on the table and his fingers dragging his arm to the next cup of sake. “Wow, that’s deep, real deep.” His hand curled around the mug and slowly tugged it back his way.
For his part, Hidoshi was only slightly slouched in his seat and was able to reach his next round without issue, but did resort to sliding it to him, only risking lifting it once it was right in front of him. He carefully brought the drink up to his lips and let it go down the hatch. He let gravity perform most of the work of returning the cup to the tabletop. “And what do you think about… trying to hone that skill known as… empathy?”
Silence reigned, and for a moment Aki thought that his question was being ignored, but he blinked and it finally registered that Gin had not stirred since he had pulled his own cup close. Rangiku gave her friend a couple pokes, but after gaining no response, Kyōraku announced, “Ichimaru Gin has passed out. Hidoshi Aki is our winner.”
There were no rousing cheers. Despite the fearsome lieutenant being vanquished by a humble Sixth Seat, the audience remained silent as they all had new things to contemplate.
There was a reason why Takashima had chosen Hidoshi Aki for this job. If there was one area in which the Sixth Seat was not merely mediocre, it was when it came to alcohol. His family were the primary suppliers of sake to the Eighth Division, so he had a long history with tasting and enduring alcohol, and a resilience to liquor second only to Kyōraku Shunsui. Even Yadōmaru Lisa had only been able to keep up with Aki due to her superior reiatsu reserves.
The scion of brewers felt no elation at his victory, merely relief. “Yadōmaru-fukutaichō was right ‘bout you: you’re just a brat.” He attempted to stand up, only to immediately flop back down when he failed to find sure footing. “Uh… help?”
Iwasaki shook his head in amusement and pulled his friend to his feet. Allowing the victorious drunk to lean heavily on his shoulders as they marched away from the field of battle, the Fifth Seat asked, “Now aren’t you glad you went through with this?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hidoshi grumbled half-heartedly, aware of how the duel had changed things. He still had a long way to go before he felt he could like or trust Ichimaru, but felt somewhat relieved that his dread at the prospect of the boy being his lieutenant had lessened.
Gin scowled as he slowly started to recall everything he had said during the drinking contest. “Rangiku, ya lied to me.”
“What are you talking about?!” she demanded, managing to keep her volume low despite how offended she was by the accusation.
“Ya said you’d keep me from doin’ anythin’ dumb.”
The blonde tilted her head. “First, I want to point out that technically, I didn’t say I would stop you. But second, that point is moot, since you didn’t do anything dumb.”
“I got all sappy an’ emotional!” he complained. “The Eighth ain’t ever gonna buy my rep as a cool, aloof trickster again!”
She snorted, relieved that was the extent of his grievance against her. “That wasn’t dumb, Gin, that was helpful. And you’re saying that you were acting in a creepy way on purpose for a ‘reputation?’”
“Yeah, but now everyone’ll think they can tread all o’er me,” the vulpine lieutenant whined.
“They’ll find you more approachable and respect you more,” Rangiku corrected his assumption.
“But I don’t wanna be approachable,” Gin continued petulantly. “I was aimin’ to be seen as a fearsome snake, cold o’ flesh and void o’ heart, slitherin’ around lookin’ fer somethin’ to devour!”
“You’re just saying that because you haven’t had breakfast yet. Now let’s go eat.”
While food did slightly improve Gin’s disposition, he made no protest when Rangiku volunteered to be his crutch on the way to the office, the close contact with her providing a pleasant counterweight to his still persistent headache. Once he was secure in her grasp, the close friends began their trek to the Eighth Division’s main office.
Were it not for the migraine, Gin would have enjoyed the experience of walking so close to Rangiku. Maybe they could do this again? Minus the hangover, of course.
Their first encounter was a pair of lower-ranked shinigami going the opposite way, and remembering protocol, Gin winced in preparation of their salute.
“Good morning, Ichimaru-fukutaichō!”
The suffering vice-captain blinked at the unexpected softness of the greeting, and unsurely waved them off as he and Rangiku passed them by. But as weird as that was, Gin mentally wrote it off as they continued on to work.
But not long after it happened again; this time Sixth Seat Hosokawa and one of her subordinates giving their lieutenant due respect at a much-reduced volume. Any relief he felt at the active attempt to avoid exacerbating his migraine was undermined by how the peculiarity of their behavior made him extremely suspicious.
After the third troupe of Eighth Division officers they had passed who had stood respectfully at attention for Gin and considerately kept their voices low, the lieutenant felt the need to point out the odd pattern. “Rangiku?”
“Yes?”
“Why is everyone actin’ so creepy?”
“Creepy? They’re being friendly!”
“But I’m creepy, so if they’re actin’ friendly with me, then they’re bein’ creepy,” the lieutenant concluded.
“So you’re saying I’m creepy?” his closest confidante arched an unimpressed eyebrow.
“’Course not, yer jus’ special and amazin’,” he returned, oblivious to how she blushed at his blunt appraisal. “What’s creepy is how everyone is suddenly actin’ all nice to me even though they all hate me.”
Doing her best to ignore how he had flustered her, Rangiku assured him, “They don’t hate you, Gin. They were just a bit nervous around you until they got to know you better.”
“I think I liked it better when they were nervous,” Gin grumbled.
“Don’t say that, it’s a sign that they’re starting to accept you as their lieutenant!”
“Fantastic…”
Their next encounter was with little Ise Nanao, who approached them with the same quiet tones that was seemingly endemic to the Eighth Division this morning. “Excuse me, Ichimaru-fukutaichō?”
More accustomed to cordiality from Lisa’s young ward, Gin was able to summon up some good humor in spite of his headache. “Watchya need, Nanao-chan?”
“I was too nervous to speak up about it last night, but I wanted to make sure you knew that I do like you,” the girl assured him.
Rangiku almost made a teasing remark about Nanao making a love confession, but then remembered how bringing up feelings and Gin in the same conversation did not end well for her last time, so she wisely held her tongue.
For his part, Gin smiled and placed a hand on her head. “Aw, thanks, Nanao-chan.”
Blushing a little bit at the show of affection, the petite bookworm continued, “And don’t worry, I think the rest of the Eighth likes you more now, too.”
Rangiku grinned as her friend’s smile suddenly became much more strained. “Ah… thanks, Nanao-chan.”
The girl looked a little worried at his unenthusiastic response. “Is something wrong, Ichimaru-fukutaichō?”
“Oh, he’s still got a headache, that’s all,” the older girl smirked. “Now as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I need to help Gin fulfill the terms of his bet.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later,” Nanao waved as she trotted off to her own assignment.
After she was out of earshot, Rangiku smirked to her friend, “See, Gin, Nanao-chan thinks it’s nice that the rest of the Eighth likes you better now.”
“That’s only ‘cause Lisa-san corrupted her,” he returned.
The strawberry-blonde giggled and shook her head at his grumbling. It was not long afterward that they entered the office, and for the first time since becoming a full shinigami, Gin completely sympathized with Rangiku’s antipathy towards paperwork. His normal nonchalant tolerance towards the bureaucracy proved nonexistent as his head throbbed at the prospect of sitting behind that desk for several hours.
But to his surprise, Gin found himself being led to the couch. “Rangiku, what’s goin’ on?”
“The terms of the bet said you had to come to work on time, and you’ve fulfilled that,” she explained as she guided him into a supine position and let his head rest in her lap. “There’s no reason why you can’t be allowed to rest up a bit more before you resume your capacity as lieutenant.”
A sense of duty almost made him protest, but the splitting headache and comfortable position overruled that, he conceded defeat with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Rangiku.”
If he had any reservations about resting, they were thoroughly demolished when she started combing through his hair, her fingertips tracing most pleasantly along his scalp.
He was asleep within moments.
Gin leaned against the wall and patiently waited outside the office of the individual he wished to meet with. He thumbed the badge that denoted his rank, feeling the freshly carved ridges that provided a sharp, crisp silhouette of his division’s number and flower. Lisa had been wearing her insignia the night she had been Hollowfied, and it had not been retrieved before Shihōin Yoruichi spirited the victims away. So, this piece of wood was brand-new, lacking the decades of wear that hers had.
He wondered if Lisa’s badge had been inherited from her predecessor, or if a new one had been provided to her as well. For all Gin knew, maybe the one that was lost with her was not even the first one issued, a replacement given after that one had been destroyed or misplaced. In any case, much like Gin was a completely new lieutenant for the Eighth Division, the badge of his position was likewise a fresh product.
Allegedly, eight was a lucky number associated with prosperity. The flower of the Eighth Division was the bird of paradise, and Kyōraku said the essence of its symbolism was, “everything is obtained.” Combined, it seemed like a statement celebrating the success of the division. Gin was aware that Kyōraku was not the first individual to captain the Eighth Division, but he did not know if this sentiment had been selected by the founder, or if it had been Shunsui’s own contribution.
The door slid open and pulled him from his musings. The person exited and went on his way without noticing Gin’s presence.
“Gin-san, I know you’re there,” the officer inside called. “Stop skulking and get in here!”
The young fox snorted and obliged. “Hey, there, Kaien-san.”
“Nice to see you drop by,” the lieutenant of the Thirteenth grinned at him. “What can I do for you today?”
“That offer to give advice on vice-captain-ing still open?” There was a modicum of hesitance in his otherwise casual voice.
“Certainly!” Kaien felt pleased that the boy had come to him for help. “Anything in specific on your mind?”
“Well, I guess fer starters I’m curious as to what bein’ a lieutenant means to ya.”
Slouched on the floor, the elder lieutenant leaned back on one hand and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. “For me personally, I’d say it involves being someone your captain can depend upon to perform the tasks they can’t; a lot of responsibility,” the Shiba scion sounded solemn, but then grumbled, “which was part of the reason why I didn’t want the job in the first place.”
“So why don’t ya jus’ quit?”
“First of all, if I even thought about doing so, Ukitake-taichō would shoot me with those big, disappointed puppy eyes of his, and nobody could resist that.”
“I could!” Gin boasted.
“I don’t think that’s something one should be proud of,” Kaien stated flatly. He continued, “And second, while the rank is a hassle, it’s also rewarding.”
“Yeah, my salary jus’ about doubled,” the Rukongai prodigy agreed happily.
“I don’t mean the tangible benefits,” the older lieutenant sighed in exasperation. “I’m talking about how good it feels when the shinigami in your charge perform well.”
“Not really in the habit of carin’ much ‘bout others’ performance.”
While certainly in character, Kaien noted that comment seemed more introspective than one might expect from the antisocial boy. Still, he felt the need to remind his younger peer, “You don’t have that luxury anymore.”
“Suppose not,” he sighed. “It’s jus’… how does everyone do it?”
“Do what?”
“Care fer so many people.” Gin appeared to be struggling with getting this out. “It’s easy ‘nough to look after Rangiku, and even Kyōraku-taichō, but the idea o’ extendin’ that kinda effort fer everyone in the Eighth sounds exhaustin’.”
“Is that part of the reason you’re so reluctant to reach out to others? You’re afraid you’d burn yourself out?”
“Work hard, play hard,” the prodigy shrugged. “It jus’ seems to me if I’m gonna get roped into this empathy mess, I shouldn’t be satisfied with half-measures.”
Kaien sat up straight and leveled a serious expression at him. “Look, Gin-san, empathy isn’t an all or nothing trait. You don’t need to be as chummy with a subordinate as you are with Matsumoto-kun and Kyōraku-taichō to care for their well-being. Do you really think Lisa-san had as close bonds with everyone in the Eighth as she did with you?”
“Now that ya mention it, I suppose not,” Gin replied thoughtfully.
“So if you really want my advice, start with the basics,” Kaien affirmed. “Ensure their needs are met, prove to them that as intimidating as you are, you can be reliable.”
The kit was not going to bring up the fact that due to recent events, the intimidation factor had unfortunately taken a big hit. But the more he thought about it, the more Gin realized that the counsel had an echo of familiarity to it…
“I gotta make sure that even if they don’t like me, they can respect me on the job,” he thought out loud. “Show ‘em that while I’m a creep, I’m also a… professional.”
“Yeah, that’s as good a word as any,” the dark-haired nobleman nodded in agreement. “And another thing to remember is that you’re not alone in managing your shinigami. You’re best friends with Rangiku, and pretty close with Kyōraku-taichō, so maybe start with some of the other upper seats. Once you ensure they’re taken care of, they in turn can better take care for the shinigami under their command.”
“Delegating helps, got it,” Gin took more easily to this counsel.
“See, it won’t be too hard for you to be a respected and admired lieutenant of the Eighth!” Kaien said encouragingly.
“Just what I always wanted,” the antisocial prodigy replied dryly. He heaved sighed and nonetheless continued, “Still, thanks fer the tips. I’ll let ya get on with yer day.”
“Always a pleasure!” Kaien stood up as his guest moved to depart, and then offered, “Hey, want to chat over drinks after we’re off duty tonight?”
Gin just managed to avoid twitching at the innocent offer. “Pass, but thanks.”
After the fiasco the other night, the young trickster decided he would avoid consuming alcohol in any capacity for a long while.
Third Seat Gondowara Yohachiro of the Second Division reviewed the reports of the investigation into the Hollowfication Incident several weeks earlier. Though the guilt of his predecessor as head of the Onmitsukidō Detention Unit was an open and shut case, there were concerns that Urahara Kisuke had other accomplices in the Twelfth Division, so a discreet investigation had to be conducted.
Fortunately, the review concluded that only Tsukabishi Tessai and Shihōin Yoruichi were Urahara’s partners in crime. Most of the Twelfth had been clearly devastated and demoralized at their captain’s betrayal; only Third Seat Kurotsuchi Mayuri exhibited no emotion, stating only that at least with Urahara out of the way, he could now run the Research and Development Institute as he saw fit. They had even checked on the Feng waif that golden-eyed traitor had been mentoring, but it was clear that the abandoned girl was probably the most openly furious about the betrayal of any of the parties still within the Gotei 13.
Gondowara had reached out to the Kidō Corps to inquire if Tsukabishi had any minions hidden within their ranks, but they had replied that per their own audit, they had concluded that the now ex-captain was the sole traitor in that reclusive division. Given that the Kidō Corps was not within the jurisdiction of the Onmitsukidō Detention Unit, the Third Seat had little choice but to trust in the wizards’ findings.
So while the criminals were still at large, the Gotei 13 could rest easy knowing there would be no inside help for them.
Gondowara could not help but feel gratitude for Lieutenant Aizen Sōsuke; the hard-working man had been up late finishing tasks that fateful night, and needed to deliver some forms to the Twelfth. Aizen arrived at Urahara’s office to find the door open and the room vacant in his rush to the captain’s meeting. At the time, this haste was mistaken for concern for his subordinate, but now it was clear he had been anxious about his schemes being exposed. Curiosity had compelled Aizen to look closer at the notes that had been left out in the open, and saw mention of experiments to be carried out in the Rukongai. This combined with the recent disappearances prompted Aizen to report his findings to the Onmitsukidō, and it was fortunate that he had done so.
Though the warning did not come in time to save those captains and lieutenants, at least it put a stop to Urahara’s schemes before they could progress any further.
Of the loyal shinigami who had been in that vicinity of the Rukongai that night, only Fifth Seat Tōsen Kaname escaped his comrades’ fate. According to his testimony, he had been ordered to scout the area, and did not return to base camp until after the incident had occurred. The detectives had been suspicious of Tōsen’s luck, but the mangled remains of Third Seat Kasaki Heizō, Fourth Seat Eishima Shinobu, and Sixth Seat Tōdō Izaemon pointed to them being torn apart by their Hollowfied superiors, and Aizen had vouched for his character. With no incriminating evidence and now being the Ninth Division’s ranking officer where leadership would be sorely needed, Yohachiro deemed it counterproductive to try to accuse Tōsen of the crime of surviving that horrific night.
Setting aside the information on the major incident for now, Yohachiro started reviewing more routine matters of his department. Prisoner rations, scheduling patrols, roll calls… the only item mildly out of the ordinary was a notation that one of the new arrivals, Narita, had hung himself in his cell. The form declared that the body had already been disposed of and the room had been cleaned and prepared for a new incumbent, so the Third Seat simply signed off on it without another thought.
After all, it was not uncommon for despairing criminals sentenced to several centuries to seek to end their suffering early, and since it meant one less nuisance to manage, Gondowara considered that to be a net gain.
To be continued…
Author’s Note: Me outlining AGNH 2.0: “Rangiku is the only person stopping Gin from becoming completely psycho.”
Me actually writing out AGNH 2.0: “Except for Kyōraku, Lisa, Kaien, and an army of Eighth Division OCs.”
Seriously, while I still consider Rangiku to be Gin’s primary Morality Chain, it was surprising to find how many other characters were coming in to share the responsibility.
Also, after taking a step back and analyzing how I had been writing Gin so that *most* of his creepy persona is just a front that he thinks is edgy and cool… I realized I think I wrote Young!Gin as a chuunibyou.
Gondowara is actually a canon family name, mentioned by Ōmaeda as being one of his neighbors in a scene right before the second Vandenreich invasion in the TYBW arc.
The original purpose of that last scene was just to mention in passing Narita Akio’s final fate, but I also took the opportunity to expand upon what the Gotei 13 would believe happened the night of the Hollowfication Incident.
Thanks to everyone who left kudos, and special mention to Whyisitsodifficulttofindanunusednusername, Black_Victor_Cachat, shadow12312gx, Quendi555 for their comments!
Omake: Shinigami Illustrated Guide
“You’re being stupid about this, there’s no reason why you can’t admit you’re starting to care about the people in the Eighth Division!” Rangiku complained, totally trying to develop her best friend’s emotional connections and not as a means to procrastinate in her administrative duties.
“I’ll admit it when there’s something to confess,” Gin retorted even as he continued plugging through the paperwork on his desk.
“What kind of person stubbornly denies caring about people in order to look tougher than they really are?” she demanded rhetorically.
But the moment the question left her mouth, a dangerous spark of inspiration entered her eyes, and for the first time since meeting her, Gin felt nervous under her gaze.
A dramatic finger pointed at him as the strawberry-blonde then declared, “You… are a mother-flipping tsundere!”
He was grateful he did not have anything in his mouth, for he was sure he would have choked on it at the accusation and rebutted in exasperation, “I am not!”
“Your denial just confirms it!” Rangiku giggled with “infallible” logic.
“No, it jus’ means I disagree with ya,” Gin countered. “After all, would admittin’ guilty to yer accusation not make me a tsundere?”
“No, you just would be honest with me about it!” she declared.
The fox sighed, “There a way I can convince ya I ain’t a tsundere?”
“Only by being honest about when caring about others!” she declared challengingly.
“What if I’m bein’ honest ‘bout not carin’?” Gin questioned.
Rangiku gave an exasperated yet fond sigh as if he was the one being silly and ruffled his hair. “Looks like I have some work to do on my tsundere.”
“The only right part o’ that sentence is the fact that I’m yours,” he rebutted, though he did like the feeling of her fingers rummaging across his scalp.
As adorable as Rangiku’s squeak was, he was confused by the reaction; didn’t she already know that?
Chapter 3: Seconds in Command
Summary:
Gin gets his first taste of command of the Eighth Division
Chapter Text
“Um, excuse me, Kyōraku-taichō?”
The commanding officer of the Eighth stirred from his slumber with a pout. One of the perks of his rank was that very few shinigami were courageous or dumb enough to disturb a sleeping captain.
To wit, opening his eyes confirmed the voice belonged to Third Seat Shigeta Tsukimi, confirming this interloper to be of the former category. More worrisome was the barely concealed smirk on her face and twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
“Are you sure I want to know?” Kyōraku grumbled.
The smirk was no longer concealed. “Well, if you don’t want me to warn you that someone has written a message on your face, then I will leave.”
“Wait, what?!” Shunsui sat up in shock, now fully awake and instinctively but irrationally putting a hand up to his face in an attempt to feel it. Despite his lazy reputation, he thought himself quite adept at noticing potential disturbances to his siestas. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What does it say?”
Mirthfully Tsukimi answered, “’If found, please send to the Eighth Division Main Office.’”
Yep, one of Ichimaru Gin’s little ploys to “encourage” him to get back to not slack off during office hours. And apparently the dastardly little devil had gotten sneaky enough to pull these stunts without disrupting his rest. If he were not so annoyed, Kyōraku would be impressed.
“I’m tempted to stay here just to be contrary,” Shunsui remarked petulantly.
“You know that would just inspire him to be even more creative,” Shigeta warned him, still finding amusement at his plight, the little traitor. “You may as well head back to the office to dissuade him from escalating.”
The captain sighed with pronounced melodrama, but reluctantly rose to his feet. “You know, I’m seriously considering demoting Gin-kun and making you my lieutenant after all.”
“Oh, no, I’m now convinced Ichimaru-fukutaichō is far better-suited to the role as your Second Seat than I am,” Tsukimi declined with a chuckle. “I am more than content to sit back and spectate his hijinks.”
“No respect, no respect from my shinigami,” Shunsui lamented.
“Don’t worry, we have plenty of respect for you,” Shigeta assured him. “Just not in the workplace.”
The captain’s unimpressed gaze was undermined by the message still inked on his face. Deciding to salvage what little dignity he could muster, he departed without another word, reluctantly making his way back to the main office.
He arrived to find his lieutenant and Sixth Seat Matsumoto Rangiku at their desks, the former hard at work and the latter not quite as much.
“Nice o’ ya to join us, Kyōraku-taichō,” Gin smirked knowingly.
Rangiku was also about to greet him, but took one look at his face and started to giggle uncontrollably. Oh, right, he had forgotten to clean it off.
“Gin-kun, why did you feel the urge to draw on my face?” Shunsui jabbed a finger at his inked features.
“Hey, it got ya here, so I call that a win,” Gin shrugged and added with a conspiratorial smirk, “And more importantly, it got a laugh outta Rangiku.”
“Aw, you’re such a sweetie!” the girl held her cheeks bashfully.
Kyōraku just stared flatly at the interplay of his subordinates who still, somehow, had not realized and acted upon their romantic feelings. How was it possible to be so obvious yet so oblivious to such displays of flirtation?
Kyōraku Shunsui and Ukitake Jūshirō were on their way to the captain’s meeting when they spotted the new head of the Third Division.
“Oh, hey Watanabe-taichō!” the flamboyant shinigami greeted. “How are you doing?”
“I am doing well, thank you,” Watanabe Eito replied politely. “And what about yourselves?”
“Getting along fine, thank you,” Ukitake answered. “How are you settling into your new position?”
“It has been going quite smoothly, thanks to Iba-fukutaichō.” Only recently the Third Seat of his Division, Eito nonetheless wore the white cloak with self-assurance. “She has been of great help acclimatizing me to the role, though I admit it is a bit jarring to be her superior officer instead of her junior.”
“That’s understandable,” the Thirteenth’s captain nodded.
“Probably the hardest part is the paperwork right now,” Eito remarked. “While Iba-fukutaichō did as much as she could, there was still quite the backlog of forms that required a captain’s signature to be processed.”
Kyōraku winced. “My sympathies. Want to get some drinks with us later?”
“I might take you up on that,” the newest captain huffed wryly. With more reflection, he continued, “And that’s not going into how I need to measure up to my predecessor. While he was… eccentric, Ōtoribashi-taichō was good to us. I can only hope I perform just as well for the Third.”
“I imagine everyone who is filling in those vacant positions feels similarly,” Kyōraku tucked the brim of his hat down. “Even my new lieutenant had those concerns, for all he tries to play himself off as a carefree trickster.”
“It’s always a challenge to assume command of a division,” Ukitake sought to offer assurance. “Just continue to listen to the counsel of your officers and make the best judgments you can, and you will do well.”
“Thank you for your words,” the new captain replied gratefully.
Topics turned to more trivial matters as the three captains arrived at the meeting room, handing out casual greetings to the unfortunately few others present. Watanabe and Aizen had filled the vacancies in the Third and Fifth Divisions, but Second, Seventh, Ninth, Tenth, and Twelfth Divisions all remained bereft of their captains.
When Kiganjō Kenpachi strode into the meeting room, it earned some surprised and worried looks from the other captains. The attendance rate of the Eleventh Division’s First Seat was sporadic at the best of times, so the only occasions he bothered to show up was on a whim or if Yamamoto deemed the topic significant enough that the lazy warrior had better attend or else.
Upon sighting Kiganjō, the last of the captains to arrive, Yamamoto tapped his staff to commence the meeting. “I have summoned you here because we have a new development in the world of the living. Our scouts have witnessed the humans mobilizing their military.”
“So they’re gearing up for another war, is that all?” Kiganjō asked indifferently.
Wars were both easier and harder to deal with for shinigami than natural disasters. In the short term, the latter were far more challenging, as they were unexpected events the Gotei 13 could do little to prepare for, and the type of deaths meant that there were a large volume of souls requiring konsō to perform on, and an even larger number of Hollows that would arrive to feast on the newly deceased. The only silver lining is that once the disaster struck, shinigami could focus on cleanup and not worry about subsequent waves of newly dead souls.
Wars were a different animal. They were more predictable, as there was a squad of Onmitsukidō agents whose sole mission was to monitor mortal military movements so shinigami could arrive at the clash of armies to help the slain pass on. And while battles were ugly affairs, soldiers generally proved more mentally prepared for these situations, at least compared to civilians in the aftermath of disasters. Depending on the discipline and the morale of the army, the souls of soldiers they helped pass on tended to be less traumatized and comparatively fewer in number.
But relatedly, it was not on the battlefields that shinigami found most of their work during war. That came when civilians were caught up in it. Whether they were simply unfortunate enough to be caught in the clash or if they were victims of an army preying on the enemy population, it was when the noncombatants were killed in war that shinigami were most in need of a shinigami’s services.
But the most difficult part in handling wars was that shinigami could not always know when they ended, and so needed to be vigilant during the months or years the conflict was ongoing.
So as rude as the Kenpachi’s question was, it was not without reason. Kyōraku, on the other hand, knew that if Yamamoto had summoned the captains like this, there was something else at play.
A prediction proven true when the general continued, “According to the reports from the Onmitsukidō, the humans have launched an invasion fleet across the sea, and they estimate that this force consists of at least two hundred thousand soldiers.”
Silence reigned as the number sank in. It was not the fact that the invasion was going to the mainland that caught them by surprise. Such forays were rare for the humans under their charge, but they had occurred from time to time, with the most recent incident being about ten years prior.
The shock came from the sheer size of the army assembled. The Gotei 13 had been aware of the increased population levels of humans in recent decades, but an expeditionary force of this magnitude was unheard of. Even with the conflict which took place a decade ago, while the military force had eventually reached that size in China, it had happened gradually as soldiers were transported to field of battle over several months.
“Are they sure they counted right?” Ukitake asked in what he knew was a vain hope.
Yamamoto dipped his head. “Not only did they double-check, they claim that this is only the first wave, with more being prepared to reinforce the initial invasion.”
“Are we to assume that while this is outside our normal area of operations, the size of the Japanese force means we will send a sizeable patrol of our own to manage them?” Aizen inquired.
The precedent of the Gotei 13 was to keep their boundaries within the islands of Japan itself, aside from some neighboring islands and the occasional missions to Korea and China. As isolationist as the inhabitants were for many centuries, it was easy to track and manage the souls who had died, and any that traveled beyond were few enough in number to not bother sending search parties after.
But the war between Japan and China had changed things.
“That is correct,” Yamamoto confirmed. “As a matter of fact, since the Fifth Division had been the one to oversee the last war in the world of the living, it is my intention to send you, Aizen-taichō, for this task. Consider this to be your first major campaign as captain.”
“Thank you for the trust you are putting in me, Yamamoto-sōtaichō,” the brown-haired First Seat bowed in acceptance. “Though I confess that with over two hundred thousand combatants in the field, I am not sure my division alone will be able to handle it all.”
“If you deem that the situation has escalated, then send for reinforcements,” the general ordered, well aware of the possibility. Here he turned to the other new face present. “Since the Third was also called up last time, Watanabe-taichō will be next to be deployed if support is needed.”
“I will not fail this task, Sōtaichō,” Watanabe spoke with a bow.
The Commander-General simply grunted. “If even your two divisions are overwhelmed, the next on the roster will be Kyōraku-taichō. All of you should be sure your subordinates are properly prepared if the call comes.”
While the younger captains voiced their assent, Kyōraku glanced off to one side with considerably less enthusiasm.
The call for the Third Division to be deployed came half a year later, during a long siege where deaths due to battle and disease rose into the thousands.
But it was not until a year into the war that the Eighth Division was summoned, after a single battle lasting three weeks killed more people than that four month-long siege combined.
“Yama-jii sent the word,” Kyōraku relayed the news as he entered the office. “Aizen-taichō reported that some battle was big enough that he believes the Eighth should be called to assist.”
Rangiku stood up from her desk. “All right, when do we leave?”
“I will be leaving tomorrow,” the captain stressed the singular pronoun.
“We’re not going?” she frowned, disappointed that she would not have the opportunity to escape office work in the foreseeable future.
“No. Since we’re expecting this to be a konsō-focused mission, I decided to leave Gin here in command of the Eighth while I take half the division with me.” To his second he continued, “Of course Rangiku-chan will remain to help you with things, and Tsukimi-chan will also be on hand to assist on the administrative side. I know how well you perform in the field, so consider this an opportunity to see how you can manage the division on your own.”
“Ya sure that’s a good idea?” Gin asked warily.
“You can do it, Gin,” Rangiku put forth with an encouraging smile.
“It won’t be long, just a couple months,” Kyōraku assured him. “If the mission takes longer, I’ll come back long enough to check on things. In case of an emergency, send a message and I’ll return as quick as I can.”
The silver-haired prodigy was still skeptical of the prospect of being on top of this crew. “And there ain’t nothin’ I can say to convince ya to let Rangiku an’ I come with ya, and leave Shigeta-san in charge?”
“Nope!” the pink-clad commander denied cheerfully.
“Great,” Gin sighed.
“Hey, you were the one who agreed to be my lieutenant,” Kyōraku chuckled.
“Is it too late to resign?”
The captain cocked his head. “Do you really want to?”
Reluctantly, Gin conceded, “No.”
“Then congratulations on your new command!”
Their cheerful superior flashed them a wink. The lieutenant sighed, then grinned, “On the bright side, yer absence won’t result in any extra paperwork fer me.”
“See, my willingness to allow you greater autonomy in the office is now bearing fruit,” the lazy warrior proclaimed.
“Well, since this is gonna be yer last chance, now ya can take care o’ signing that stack o’ forms before ya leave for the world of the livin’,” Gin pointed.
“Uh, I think I need to go pack,” Kyōraku started to back out of the office.
“’Kay, but remember,” the trickster warned with a positively devilish smile, “you’ll be givin’ me a whole lotta time to think o’ ways to incentivize ya when ya get back.”
“On second thought, I can squeeze in a few minutes,” the captain amended, reluctantly changing course to his desk.
“Much appreciated.” And Gin bent back to his tasks.
Contrary to his quip to Kyōraku, Gin’s workload did increase while his captain was deployed in the world of the living. Most of the forms that normally required the CO’s signature had allowances that in the event of his absence, the next ranking officer could sign off instead. It was only a select few forms and operations that were truly “Captain-Only,” and not nearly enough to cause a significant decrease in the new load of paperwork requiring his attention.
A task that would be much easier to accomplish with an assistant who was more diligent, Gin thought to himself with mild annoyance as he glanced over at his best friend staring listlessly into space.
“Rangiku,” he called to her.
She jumped at the sudden address. “Yes?”
“Focus. Ya still got work to do.”
“But it’s so boooooring,” Rangiku whined.
“It still gotta be done.”
“Meanie,” she pouted but reluctantly resumed her administrative duties.
The lieutenant checked the time and noted that it had been a little over two hours since lunch. “All right, if ya can finish yer project in the next half-hour, we can take a break, and I’ll give ya a head massage.”
The blonde perked up immediately, and she assaulted her forms with renewed vigor. “Deal!”
Properly motivated, Rangiku did indeed manage to complete her current task with four minutes to spare. The moment the last stroke was inked on the page, she dashed to the couch. Lying down comfortably, she then shot an unimpressed pout at Gin for the crime of not being present as her pillow the same nanosecond she finished work.
“There’s still a couple minutes left,” he chuckled at her impatience.
His amused reprimand only caused Rangiku to narrow her eyes in a very feline expression of annoyance.
Shaking his head with a smirk, Gin nevertheless allowed himself to get to a good stopping place and set down his pen. Unable to resist the temptation to tease his friend, he lazily took his time to stand up and stretched as though sore from sitting for so long.
“Gin…,” she growled warningly, well aware of what he was doing.
Feigning innocence, the vulpine shinigami moseyed over and asked, “What is it, Rangiku?”
“You know what!”
Finally deciding to grant his friend mercy, he sat down on the open space on the couch, and immediately found Rangiku’s head in his lap as she awaited his administrations. Gin promptly started combing her hair with his fingers, lightly tracing along her scalp. The sensation elicited a pleased hum from his friend as her prior annoyance evaporated, and she settled in to enjoy her reward.
To be honest, Gin shared her delight. Seeing how content and relaxed she became at his touch provoked a giddy and pleasant feeling that warmed his entire body. It was a sensation he did not experience with anyone else, further cementing Gin’s opinion that Rangiku was an amazing girl, and he was so glad she was in his life.
Especially since Rangiku’s early fears that he would leave her and never come back were not entirely unfounded. Charity and mercy were risky endeavors in the outer regions of the Rukongai, and Gin had exercised little of either to survive. But when he stumbled across the dying girl all alone in the wilderness, he felt it wrong to just leave her there, that she would not be afforded the chance to survive on her own.
So he fed her, sharing his supplies of persimmons and helped get her strength back. Back then, it had been his intention that once she recovered enough that she could look out for herself, he would leave and strike out on his own again.
But the more time he spent with Rangiku, the less motivation he felt to part ways with her. Gin could not pinpoint when he started to consider her a friend, but he did know the exact moment when he learned he never wanted to leave her side: when he had suggested that the day they met be celebrated as her birthday.
With how precious Rangiku had become to him, Gin knew that leaving her behind would have been the biggest mistake in his life.
His musings were interrupted by the door opening.
“Hello, Ichimaru-fukutaichō~!” Third Seat Shigeta Tsukimi greeted cordially as she strode into the office with a stack of paperwork.
Rangiku stirred fitfully, and as their break was not yet up, Gin sent a warning smile to the new arrival.
Shigeta finally registered the sight before her, and let out a quiet but very amused, “Oh, I apologize for the interruption. Are you following our absent captain’s example and slacking off?”
“No, just taking a break, we’ll be back to work in a few minutes,” he replied with his own voice lowered. “Whatcha got fer me?”
“Just some paperwork.” The Third Seat quietly placed the volume of documents on his desk. “Requisition forms, mission reports from the world of the living, budget statements, and so on.”
He hummed in acknowledgment. “Anythin’ else?”
“Well, as long as you’re asking, I would like to say that you and Matsumoto-kun make a rather adorable sight,” she commented boldly.
“Call me ‘adorable’ again, and yer new seat number will be somewhere in the negatives,” Gin warned in cheerful fashion.
With an irrational lack of fear, Tsukimi smiled pleasantly and replied, “Noted, Ichimaru-fukutaichō.”
“Good, now git.” He waved her towards the door.
“All right, I’m ‘gittin’,’” she obediently strode to the exit, throwing an amused smirk over her shoulder as the door shut behind her.
Privacy restored, Gin sighed in exasperation. While most officers in the Eighth had become far more relaxed in their interactions with him because of That Night (which Gin continued to find creepy), Shigeta more than anyone else had the greatest spike in affability towards him, likely emboldened by how she was only one rank below him. It used to be that Gin did not think much of her, good or ill, just another officer of the Eighth Division. But now he now considered her the personification of how people weren’t scared of him anymore. Honestly, he found baffling he could still issue orders and expect them to be followed.
The vulpine shinigami had worked out dozens of plans in his head that would have easily restored his status as the Eighth Division Creep, but unfortunately each and every one of those schemes also included the image of a disappointed and crestfallen Rangiku, and so were discarded. Alas, he was stuck with the situation where his subordinates assumed he was a misunderstood recluse that secretly cared about others.
The only silver lining was that since such impressions were created during his participation in the Eighth’s Challenge, such salacious slander would not be spread outside of their division.
Gin glanced over at the clock and decided that as pleasant as current circumstances were, break time was over.
“Hey Rangiku, it’s time to get back to work,” he gently nudged her awake.
“Aw, Gin, can’t we be on break for a few more minutes?” she pleaded as she reluctantly opened her eyes and looked up at him, giving him her best pout that she discovered few could resist.
Unfortunately for her, Gin was one of those few. “Nope, we gotta get back to work.”
“Oh come on! I’ll give you a head massage!” she bargained. To accentuate her argument, she murmured, “I would feel absolutely awful if I went back to work knowing I didn’t reciprocate.”
Gin swallowed at the softness of her voice. It triggered something in him he did not know existed, and suddenly the temptation became far more difficult to resist.
Summoning all his willpower, he eventually answered, “Well, I’ll take ya up on that on our next break in two hours.”
Rangiku sulked at his refusal. “Hmpf. Fine.”
Reluctantly, she stood up from the couch and stretched on the way back to her desk. Gin observed her, ostensibly to be sure she actually returned to work, but part of him just would not allow him to take his gaze off her.
It took a moment, but Gin did eventually shake off the compulsion, and after committing that scene to memory, he resumed his own duties.
As promised, Gin permitted a break two hours later, but this time he was the one resting in her lap as she played with his hair. It was actually fairly dangerous from a professional standpoint, it being very difficult to keep track of time with how calming the effect of her touch proved to be. It made Gin wonder if this was the real reason Rangiku was eager to give him head massages; it made it easier to distract him from returning to work.
Premeditated or not, that was the end result as Gin slowly found himself falling deeper into sleep under Rangiku’s gentle care. Thus, it was both a relief and an annoyance when the door slid open and Shiba Kaien called, “Hey, Gin-san, you in here?”
Rangiku squeaked at the sudden interruption, while Gin sat up more calmly and answered, “Yeah, right here. Watcha need?”
Kaien raised a brow at the position he had apparently caught the pair in, as well as Rangiku’s blazing cheeks. “What were you doing just now?”
“We were just taking a break!” the Sixth Seat stated while retaining a heavy blush.
“A pretty comfortable break,” the older officer commented.
“Yeah, Rangiku was giving me a nice head massage,” Gin agreed.
“Gin!” she squeaked in mortification at his casual mention of their activities.
Kaien laughed. “Man, already exercising the privileges of being the one in charge of the Eighth.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we take turns doin’ that kinda thing,” the silver lieutenant mentioned.
“GIN!”
“Good.” Lieutenant Shiba crossed his arms and nodded in sage fashion. “You already know the importance of reciprocation in a relationship.”
Gin shrugged casually. “That was one of the things Lisa-san taught me,”
The elder vice-captain shook his head with a laugh. “Of course she did…”
“Seriously, what brings ya here?” the Eighth’s lieutenant asked.
“Got some paperwork to deliver for you,” Kaien explained as he lifted up the sheaf of documents. “Nothing you need to do today, but I figured I bring it by so it’s there for you tomorrow. Which is a good thing, because I want to invite you for drinks tonight.”
Gin considered the offer. “I dunno, we still got some work to do.”
“Oh come on, this late in the afternoon?” he guffawed. “Is there really anything you have to get done today?”
“Well…” the younger prodigy did the calculations in his head about how much work he had left on his to-do list, and how much of that he could afford delaying completion until later. Eventually he concluded, “Yeah, I suppose we can call it quits now. You coming with us, Rangiku?”
“Nah, you have a guys’ night out,” she encouraged him. “I’ll be reading with Nanao-chan tonight, so you can hang out with Shiba-fukutaichō!”
“Ya mean she’ll be readin’ to ya,” he teased her.
“She just helps me with the characters I don’t know!” the Sixth Seat pouted.
Despite Nanao being much younger, her higher-class education meant that she was often filling in the gaps of Rangiku’s vocabulary. Gin and Rangiku had both known some katakana and hiragana, but it wasn’t until they joined the Academy that they learned how to write kanji. While the impromptu literacy lessons by her junior initially pricked the blonde’s pride, she did appreciate how it did help her with reading better, and Nanao seemed to enjoy the role of tutor.
Gin snickered at her reaction, and affirmed to his fellow lieutenant, “All right, I’m in. But just one drink.”
“When you said one drink, you weren’t kidding,” Kaien laughed at the single saucer of sake Gin was carefully nursing alongside some food and a large jug of water.
“I don’t got a good history with alcohol, so be grateful I’m havin’ this much,” the younger shinigami retorted.
His new drinking buddy snickered. “Wow, never would have guessed you of all people to be the most responsible member of the Eighth.”
“What, jus’ ‘cause I like playin’ pranks means I don’t know how to be responsible?” Gin snorted. “Lemme tell ya, bein’ irresponsible is a good way to die quick in the Rukongai. So even though the stakes ain’t quite so dire, I get ya should do what needs to be done ‘fore havin’ fun.”
“If you attribute your work ethic to your origin, why doesn’t Rangiku-san share that attitude?” Kaien asked.
“Hey, it ain’t like Rangiku blows off all her duties.” Kaien noted how quick Gin was to speak up in her defense. “She works hard in trainin’ herself and her subordinates, and she’s real good at managin’ people. It’s jus’ that she’s never taken to bookwork o’ any kind, been that way ever since we joined the Academy. So since it’s more of a pain than jus’ an inconvenience fer her, she’s more inclined to avoid it whenever she can get away with it.”
“Huh,” the noble remarked thoughtfully. “And here I thought it was just laziness.”
“Look, I ain’t gonna lie an’ say it ain’t annoyin’ at times to prod her into finishin’ her paperwork,” Gin conceded. “But to me, that’s such a small part o’ who she is an’ what she can do.”
His fond tone also did not go unnoticed. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. Everyone has their flaws, but they’re not always defined by them.” He took a sip of his drink. “So, you doing okay managing the Eighth on your own?”
“I ain’t completely on my own,” Gin corrected him. “Got Shigeta-san and Rangiku helpin’ me out, so I think I’m handlin’ it well.”
“Good to hear. I’m actually in the same boat as you right now; Ukitake-taichō’s illness kicked in, so I’m the de facto captain of the Thirteenth until he recovers.”
“How often are ya stuck with the command position?”
The lieutenant shrugged. “Despite his reputation as an invalid, he’s not on sick leave as much as you’d think. Sometimes months pass without incident, but it can still happen at random.”
“So ya gotta stay vigilant, be ready to take the reins at a moment’s notice.”
“Yep,” Kaien reclined on one elbow and picked up his cup. “To be honest, I never thought I’d ever be more than Third Seat. Any higher and people start actually expecting things of me.”
There was indeed an unspoken boundary between a Third Seat and a lieutenant. As Gin recalled from his history lessons, apparently when Yamamoto founded the Gotei, the divisions were small enough that a captain could manage them on their own without worrying about a command structure. Lieutenants were individuals that those captains chose as their right hand, and it was only after several centuries that the divisions grew large enough to warrant setting up a ranking system. Being straightforward and efficient as he was, Yamamoto decided to create eighteen numbered echelons below the rank of lieutenant and call it a day.
On the one hand, Gin could respect the ease of the system that made it simple to identify where someone stood on the pecking order, no need to memorize titles. On the other hand, it was rather unimaginative, as the fox felt there was indeed a tangible satisfaction to when he earned a rank that was not prefaced with “[Enter Ordinal Number Here] Seat.”
“Right, ‘cause people weren’t totally expectin’ great things o’ the shinigami who broke the record of fastest graduation time from the Academy,” Gin drawled sardonically.
“Oh shut up, it’s not like I set out to make a name for myself like that,” Kaien grumbled.
“So yer sayin’ that you can break records without even tryin’,” the trickster concluded with a smirk, which upgraded to a chortle when he saw the annoyed glare he got from his drinking buddy. “All right, all right, here’s to us: seconds in command.”
Mollified, Kaien copied his move. “Kanpai!”
Several weeks passed, then one day as he was working, Gin detected a familiar reiatsu approaching. “Rangiku, it feels like the captain’s back.”
She immediately perked up at her desk. “Really?”
His words were immediately proven true when the door opened and it revealed Kyōraku Shunsui.
“Welcome back,” the lieutenant greeted as he rose from the desk.
“Thanks, Gin-kun, Rangiku-chan,” the captain nodded to both subordinates.
“If you’re here, does this mean the war is over?” Rangiku asked hopefully.
“Unfortunately not, I’m just here to check in and see how you were doing,” Kyōraku answered.
“Actually things have been pretty quiet,” the lieutenant reported. “Maybe it’s ‘cause ya got half o’ the division with ya, but there hasn’t been any more trouble ‘round here than what normally goes on.”
The captain appeared relieved. “I’m glad to hear it’s been going smoothly.”
“How’s it going in the world of the living?” Rangiku could see how tired he looked and had grown concerned.
Kyōraku sighed. “We’ve been busy. As anticipated, all we’ve only had to really worry about is konsō, but with thousands of humans dying it can be challenging to keep on top of them all.”
“There really haven’t been that many Hollows?” Considering his own experience, Gin found this hard to believe.
“Not really, and most of the ones that do show up are so weak that they’re most likely from souls that missed konsō back near the beginning of the war.”
A salient point immediately cropped up. “If that’s the case, why bother havin’ multiple captains on the scene? Sounds like a waste o' manpower.”
“Partly a precaution, in case a powerful Menos decides it’s curious enough to leave Hueco Mundo to see what all the humans were up to. We have had that happen when we got too complacent handling what was supposed to be an easy konsō mission, only to be ambushed by opportune Hollows.”
Gin hummed in understanding. “I get that it’s better safe than story, but still, three captains seem like overkill.”
“Perhaps, but that’s more due to how both Aizen-taichō and Watanabe-taichō are both new to their positions, and this would be their first major campaigns after donning their haoris.” The handsome warrior flopped down on some cushions Rangiku prepared for him with a satisfied groan. “Even if they both got a taste of this kind of work about ten years ago, having someone with more experience on standby gave reassurances to everyone involved.” A tired grimace passed over his face. “And let me tell you, it took all three divisions working in concert to track down the souls who died and ensure they made it to Soul Society. I’m just glad we aren’t responsible for the souls of foreigners as well.”
“So, who is responsible fer ‘em?” Gin had come over and taken a seat beside him. “They didn’t cover that in the Academy.”
Kyōraku chuckled. “Well, that’s because the Seireitei’s stance on spirits not bound for Soul Society is simple: don’t know, don’t care.”
The blunt declaration took both the officers off-guard. Rangiku watched him skeptically, “Really, that’s it?”
“That’s the gist of it,” the captain shrugged and lay back to pull his hat over his face.
Gin sensed an opportunity to sound out their affable superior's true feelings. “Do ya got any thoughts on the matter?”
“A few, but that’s all they are, thoughts,” Kyōraku spoke from his supine position. “Sometimes I think they’re just lost to the void between realms. Sometimes I think they reincarnate into a new body immediately. Sometimes I think they’re shepherded to the afterlife of their people by our counterparts in their culture.”
“If that last one was the case, wouldn’t you be seeing those beings, too?” Rangiku asked.
“We’re invisible to humans, so maybe those other spiritual beings are invisible to us, and we to them,” the old captain drawled. “But like I said, they’re only ideas. The truth could be something different entirely.”
The Sixth Seat pondered this. “What makes you think that there is anything else for them? What if there’s no corresponding afterlife for them and they just stop existing?”
“Well, that’s certainly a possibility, as we have no evidence for or against it,” Kyōraku removed his hat to gaze at the ceiling. “But there have been a few occasions over the centuries when I’ve noticed… anomalies, for the lack of a better term. Times when Japanese souls don’t seem to be coming to Soul Society when they should be, but instead left for someplace else. And we certainly have evidence that the reverse has happened, in that the souls of foreigners have come to our realm instead of wherever their own kind usually go.”
He looked pointedly at Rangiku’s decidedly un-Japanese phenotype. “So, how did it happen in your situation?”
“I don’t remember,” the girl answered with a frown. “My earliest memory is just walking through that wasteland, where I almost starved to death if Gin hadn’t saved me.”
“Really, you don’t remember your life as a human at all?”
“No. Is that unusual?”
“It is,” Kyōraku confirmed. “Most souls remember their lives as humans; while for some the experience can fade with the passage of time, but generally those memories remain treasured relics forever.”
“Huh,” Rangiku considered this new information, then turned to her compatriot. “What about you, Gin? We’ve never really talked about our lives before we met each other, so do you remember anything from when you were human?”
“Well, we haven’t talked ‘bout it ‘cause there weren’t anythin’ to discuss,” the trickster shrugged. “Ya don’t remember anythin’, an’ I’d say that my life wasn’t worth talkin’ ‘bout ‘til I met ya, Rangiku.”
“Don’t evade the question with flattery!” Nonetheless her cheeks were turning red again.
“Not evadin’ it,” Gin denied the accusation. “But if ya wanna hear it straight, then no, I don’t got no memories o’ bein’ a human, either.”
“Quite the pair of amnesiacs you are,” Kyōraku teased with a grin. “You ever thought about trying to find answers?”
“Not at all!” the lieutenant answered cheerfully. “Far as I’m concerned, anythin’ that happened ‘fore I met Rangiku don’t interest me.”
The girl in question proved more introspective. “I mean, I won’t deny being a bit curious, but I don’t feel any strong inclinations towards investigating. If a lead happens to pop up, I might follow up on it, but if not, I don’t think I’d be missing out.”
“Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know, and I’ll help you however I can,” the captain replied.
“Thanks.” Unsure what else to say, Rangiku retook her seat.
“I won’t, but I ‘preciate the thought.” Gin then asked, “So, how long’s yer visit?”
“Just for the night.” With a groan he rolled over on his side to get more comfortable. “There’s also going to be a change in shifts, as I decided to bring some shinigami with me, and will take others back to the world of the living.”
“Well, long as yer here, why don’t ya start the paperwork on the changin’ o’ the guard,” the Second Seat hiked a thumb in the direction of the “Captain-Only” paperwork stack. “There’s also some forms that’ve been pilin’ up in yer absence.”
Kyōraku scowled. “You are the worst.”
“I’ve also got a jar o’ yer favorite sake.”
Kyōraku beamed. “You are the best.”
To be continued…
Author’s Note: The war mentioned in this chapter was the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905, which established Japan as a major world power. The battle that got Kyōraku and the Eighth called in was the Battle of Mukden, and was the largest modern-era battle prior to World War I. Despite it being a decisive Japanese victory, they had almost sixteen thousand soldiers killed, nearly twice as many as the Russians (though ultimately the latter still had higher total casualties from those captured or missing in action), due to utilizing infantry charges on fortified positions. This outcome was representative of the war itself, where the Japanese won despite having higher casualties, and this combined with the tactics used and the global impact resulted in this being one of the conflicts nicknamed World War Zero, a foreshadowing of what was in store for Europe in the next decade.
And something that I missed while writing the first arc of this story was the First Sino-Japanese war of 1894-1895, which got mentioned in passing this chapter, and would have been going on the same time as the Shōnai Earthquake that was covered back in Chapter 3 of the prologue arc, “Defying Expectations.”
And contrary to what “Memories of Nobody” says that led to popular misconception, canon explicitly demonstrates that souls who enter Soul Society do remember their past lives, with Shibata remembering Chad when Ichigo & Co. invaded the first time, and later upheld when the Fullbringers clearly retained their memories and abilities when they passed on.
Thanks to everyone who hit the kudos button, and special mention to Quendi555, zeromegumi, and litacan for their comments!
Omake: Shinigami Illustrated Guide - Inspired by a quote from the Patron Saint of Snark, Groucho Marx
Shunsui was still a little hung over when he came into the office. The only reason he chose to do so was because he feared his lieutenant’s pranks more. But any hope of just adopting a convenient façade of work ethic was dashed when Third Seat Shigeta Tsukimi entered the office with a form for him to fill out.
After staring at it with incomprehension in his gaze for a minute, Shigeta asked, “Do you need help, sir?”
Jolted out of his trance, Kyōraku claimed, “Of course not! Why a child could understand this!”
“Well… good,” Tsukimi looked skeptical, but ultimately decided not to call him out on it, and strode out of the room to her other duties.
After she exited the office, the profligate took another look at the form and groaned at how it still looked like a jumble of squiggly lines. Not really thinking, he commented to his vice-captain, “Maybe I should find a child, I’m too hungover to make heads or tails of this.”
“On it,” Gin nodded, and flash-stepped away.
“I wasn’t serious…” the captain informed the space just vacated by the trickster. After the departure had registered to him, Shunsui moaned. “I really hope he didn’t take that as permission to perform a kidnapping.”
“Here ya go!”
Looking up, the captain was treated to the sight of young Ise Nanao dangling from Gin’s grip like a kitten as she hugged her ever-present big book to her torso. Looking a bit flustered, the bookish child asked, “Ichimaru-fukutaichō said you needed me, sir?”
“Well, I certainly won’t turn down your help,” Kyōraku smiled at her.
And as it turned out, this child could indeed understand the jibberish jotted down on paper.
Chapter 4: Double Date
Summary:
Gin and Rangiku meet a new friend.
Chapter Text
A bead of sweat dripped down Gin’s face as he pondered the precarious situation he found himself in. Boxed in and with his cunning foe ready to dismantle any potential counterstrike, the boy knew he had lost this bout.
“All right, I’m willing to call it,” Gin raised both hands in defeat, ready to take his lumps.
Kyōraku Shunsui gave a wolfish grin. “Then let's see just how much punishment you can take!”
And with that, their game of Go was ended.
Counting up the surrounded tiles and captured stones confirmed what the lieutenant had suspected; the captain’s score was higher than his own. Defeat tasted as lousy as ever.
The victorious captain noted his opponent's obvious distress and smiled at him. “You’re improving. It was a good match.”
Gin merely shrugged. “One of these days I’ll get ya.”
“I’m sure you will, but remember that this is a game that takes time and practice to master, and I’ve been playing Go for…” the captain paused, suddenly self-conscious about revealing this information, and ended with, “…a long time.”
Sensing an opportunity, the impish vice-captain pounced. “Were ya the one who introduced Go to Soul Society?”
“Gin-kun, that happened sixteen, maybe seventeen centuries ago!” Kyōraku put on an affronted expression.
“Yeah, but that don’t eliminate ya as a candidate, now do it?”
The flamboyant captain pouted pitifully. “For the record: no, I was not the one who had the honor of introducing Soul Society to Go.” He paused to give the topic more thought, and then added with a touch of melancholy, “Though I admit I am the oldest living player of the game.”
“Always makes me feel better to be reminded that at least I lost to Soul Society’s grandmaster.” The lieutenant inclined his head with what might pass for respect.
“Then as grandmaster, would you be open to some constructive criticism?”
“By all means.” His pupil waved a magnanimous hand.
Leaning back on one hand, the ancient tactician gestured at the board. “If there’s one aspect of your strategy I think you need to improve upon, it’s your tendency to wait too long to take advantage of opportunities. There were several times during our game when you could have moved towards an opening and increased your odds of victory, or at least delayed defeat.”
“Making moves too quickly leads to mistakes,” Gin explained. “Wanted to be sure I wasn’t steppin’ into a trap.”
“Ah, but to quote Sun Tzu, ‘Though we have heard of stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been associated with long delays.’”
The cautious trickster tilted his head thoughtfully. “So basically yer sayin’ that while it’s always a bad idea to blindly rush in, it does no good to dawdle?”
“Basically.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gin remarked, and wiped some sweat off his forehead. “By the way, think it’s about time to turn off the heat?”
“I suppose.” Kyōraku then called to his other pupil, “Okay, you can stop now, Rangiku-chan!”
Circling around the players was the massive ash plume of Kazantora. Considering that the cloud had a temperature well over four hundred degrees Celsius, the proximity was making Gin perspire, though Kyōraku seemed unaffected. Whether it was because of his far greater reiatsu shielding him, his experience with his own mentor being a powerful fire-type, or a mixture of both, Gin was not sure. It did not hurt that the captain had elected to leave his kimono somewhere safe, citing the desire to avoid letting any ash stain the precious raiment.
The particular exercise was meant to help Rangiku gain more control over her unruly zanpakutō, and today was a good day. Only three times had the searing cloud wandered close enough to the game that Shunsui felt the need to casually flex his reiatsu and deter the volcanic tigress from stalking too close.
But Gin could tell it was taking a toll on her. Kazantora was clearly resistant to the idea of being corralled in any fashion. Off to one side, Rangiku holding tight onto the hilt of her weapon with both hands gave the impression she was trying to wrangle an actual tiger, and having just as much success as one might expect.
Permission given to cease practice, the Sixth Seat gasped in relief as she sealed her zanpakutō and leaned on it for support.
“How ya feelin’?” Gin asked.
“Exhausted,” she replied between deep breaths as she staggered over and fell into his lap.
Casually the silver fox allowed his hands to gently massage his friend’s aching shoulders, and she let out a purr of relief. “I know that much, I’m more talkin’ ‘bout if ya feel like ya made any progress?”
“Not really,” Rangiku moaned. “Just more of the same power struggle where I make sure she doesn’t go where I don’t want her to.”
“You tried talkin’ with Kazantora ‘bout this?”
“Yeah, but she hasn’t been very inclined to open up, and keeps making me play with her.” Shooting a side-eyed glare over her shoulder, she warned, “And if you say one word about me needing to be patient, I’ll make you a patient in the Fourth Division.”
“All right, I won’t say one word…”
“Not two words, either!”
“How ‘bout three?”
“Gin!”
“All right, all right,” he surrendered with a chortle. “I get it, patience ain’t the issue.”
“Glad you understand,” Rangiku hummed smugly.
“Maybe ya need a break from trainin’ Shikai.” Her eyes had closed again, but he pressed on regardless. “Practice on the other arts for a while, then come back later when ya got a fresh outlook.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Kyōraku agreed. “You’ve also mentioned how fickle and impulsive Kazantora can be, and speaking as someone who has a whimsical zanpakutō of his own, perhaps something as simple as coming back when they’re in a different mood will be enough to help your progress.”
Rangiku appeared to consider this. “Hm, a break does sound nice. I just wish Kazantora was cooperative like Shinsō is with you, Gin.”
“Shinsō might not be as hard to work with, but I don’t think you’d like the Jinzen sessions with her,” her friend chuckled.
If his descriptions of waiting and waiting and waiting before even a single word could be exchanged were not exaggerations, then Rangiku could not help but agree. She would either go stir crazy or fall asleep from the sitting and the silence; at least Kazantora let her be active and engaged while she sought answers.
“Well, you two look comfortable.”
Rangiku perked her head up to see Ukitake Jūshirō and Shiba Kaien enter the training yard. To the latter she replied, “I just got done with a training session with my zanpakutō, so I think I’ve earned a break.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” their genial superior responded. “How’s that going?”
She waved her hand ambivalently. “So-so.”
“Sorry I haven’t been of more help with Kazantora,” the older lieutenant shrugged. Kaien had indeed made good on his word and stopped from time to time to offer some advice to Rangiku based on his own experiences, but it turned out that there were more differences than similarities between their zanpakutō, the least of which being the fact that Kazantora was a mere hilt when in release, while Kaien’s was a trident.
“Nejibana acts like water, always wanting to take the path of least resistance, so the key to controlling him is to give him that path to my target.”
In contrast, Kazantora decidedly did not take the path of least resistance; she wanted to lash out everywhere. It was all Rangiku could do to push her zanpakutō in the basic laps around the courtyard today. The irony was not lost on Rangiku that despite Gin’s difficulty empathizing with others, Shinsō was extremely precise, and had never hit an undesignated target. But contrary to her social and friendly nature, Kazantora had a wide area of effect, making collateral damage a very high risk. Her power remained prone to friendly fire and was not suitable for full-scale engagement.
“Not your fault,” Rangiku assured him, and then grinned knowingly, “So did you enjoy your leave?”
“I most certainly did!” Kaien thumped his chest with great gusto. “But dropping in to greet my friends in the Eighth was the first item on my itinerary.” The elder prodigy grinned at his peer. “The second item was to introduce you to the newest member of the Thirteenth Division.”
Obviously waiting for that cue, a lovely brunette slipped out from behind his broad frame, her regal poise and bearing announcing her elevated position in society. But the warm expression on her face made Rangiku anticipate her to be more in line with Ukitake’s temperament than Kuchiki’s.
“Say hello to the new Fifth Seat of the Thirteenth Division, Shiba Miyako!” Kaien proudly proclaimed.
Miyako shot him a sardonic smile before turning to face them all. “A pleasure to get a chance to get acquainted properly.” The new officer bowed elegantly to her peers.
This was not their first meeting. Kaien had invited both Gin and Rangiku to the wedding ceremony several months prior, but due to the sheer number of guests as expected of an event involving the most powerful noble families in Soul Society, they had only briefly managed to meet the bride before moving on.
“It’s great that we’ll be able to get to know you better!” Rangiku bowed, a broad grin on her face. “Shiba-fukutaichō has told us so much about you!”
“It was hard to get him to shut up at times,” Gin added playfully.
“I think it’s sweet,” his friend elbowed him for the remark. To the other woman the Sixth Seat asked, “So you just joined, and you made a Fifth Seat? You must be a prodigy like these two chuckleheads!”
“Not at all,” Miyako waved the idea off modestly. “It’s uncommon, but sometimes nobles can enlist in the Gotei 13 directly without attending the Shin’ō Academy if they can prove themselves to their prospective captain. Since I have been training for this career for several decades, I was deemed qualified for such an expedited route, and Ukitake-taichō determined me fit for this rank.”
Rangiku smiled. “Well, congratulations, I look forward to working with you in the future.”
“If my husband’s words are to be trusted, then the feeling is mutual,” the new shinigami offered her a sincere smile in return. She glanced down and spotted the Go board. “May be so bold as to request a round with one of you?”
“Why don’t you face off with Gin-kun,” Kyōraku gestured to his vacated position. For his part, Gin wasted no time picking up the gauntlet, and they soon were facing each other over a cleared board.
“Be nice to face off with someone I can win against,” the silver lieutenant remarked.
“How presumptuous of you to assume your victory,” Miyako allowed herself to smirk competitively.
“I don’t think it presumptuous to think I got better odds against ya than him,” Gin thumbed at his previous opponent.
“I will grant you that point,” she returned.
“Can I add that point to my score?” His grin held all the hospitality of an approaching shark.
“By all means,” Miyako replied casually. “You will need every point you can get.”
“Ooh,” Rangiku’s eyes glinted. “Take her down, Gin!”
“This is a board game, not a sparrin’ match,” he mentioned as he put down his first piece.
It was definitely a different experience playing against Miyako, and not just because he was more accustomed to playing against grandmaster Kyōraku. The Eighth’s captain had an erratic playstyle that made it difficult to counter, his centuries of experience granting him the expertise to know when to be aggressive or defensive.
Refreshingly, Miyako appeared to be more in his league. Talented and skilled in her own right as she managed to foil some of his advances, but still failed to avoid some of his own well-laid traps.
Eventually, the board was filled out, and there were no more moves either player wanted to make. When they counted the score, to Gin’s elation, he managed to win by three points.
“Well done, Ichimaru-fukutaichō,” Miyako congratulated her vanquisher.
“You, too,” he nodded respectfully. “’Nother round?”
“Please.”
“Time for you to get regain your honor!” Kaien urged his wife on.
“Time for Gin to rack up another win!” Rangiku countered.
The more reserved players shared a knowing glance about their more exuberant partners, and continued their game.
Sixth Seat Matsumoto Rangiku leaned against the railing as she waited for the lieutenants to finish up with their monthly meeting, as was her habit if she managed to complete her own duties early enough (or more commonly, decided they could wait until later). While currently alone, occasionally others joined her in this vigil, whether they be friends of lieutenants inside or lower rankers wanting to petition their superior officer for something.
“Hello Matsumoto-kun.”
Rangiku turned and brightened when she saw Shiba Miyako approaching. “Hey, good to see you again.”
“You as well,” the Fifth Seat replied amiably. Nodding to the closed the door, she inquired, “Is that where the lieutenants are meeting?”
“Yep.” She patted the railing beside her, and Miyako gladly accepted the offer to join her.
“Thank you, this is my first time here, so I’m glad I managed to find my way,” The newest officer in the Thirteenth glanced at her companion. “I presume you’re here for the same reason I am; to wait for our men to be done?”
“He’s not my man,” Rangiku protested with a slight blush. “At least, not the same way Shiba-fukutaichō is yours.”
Miyako raised a teasing brow in her direction. “Are you sure about that? Even from our single meeting, I could tell you and Ichimaru-fukutaichō complement each other well. You two are lucky to have each other.”
“Yes, finally someone who realizes that!” Rangiku beamed excitedly, the deeper connotations of the comment momentarily overlooked. “Almost everyone else is like, ‘why do you hang around that creep?’ Even the people in the Eighth took a while to understand him better, so it’s so refreshing that you can tell right off the bat why we’re such good friends!”
“Hm, yes, very good friends,” the brunette agreed knowingly.
Flustered once more by that tone of voice, the blonde confirmed cautiously, “Yeah. My best friend.”
Miyako’s smile turned mischievous. “You know, I consider Kaien to be my best friend…”
Before the blushing Sixth Seat could retort, the lieutenant’s meeting room opened, and her attention snapped around in eager anticipation.
Her face dropped in disappointment when the first figure to emerge was the tall, scowling lieutenant of the Seventh Division Kotsubaki Jinemon. Both women stood at attention for the superior officer, and he acknowledged them with a curt nod as he went on his way.
Just after him came Iba Chikane of the Third, who likewise bid her junior officers with nothing more than a serious nod as she passed by.
A moment later, two men exited as well, one of them Yamada Seinosuke of the Fourth, and Kuwabara Akito of the Fifth, the latter appointed by Aizen Sōsuke not long after he became captain. Both waved amicably to the pair on their way by.
Four lieutenants had exited, but only five more remained, for the Ninth, Tenth, Twelfth, and Eleventh Divisions still lacked their vice-captains. For the first three, this was due to the fact that only captains could select lieutenants for a division, and since replacement captains had yet to be appointed to those positions, vice-captains would likewise be absent. For the time being, their respective Third Seats were the de facto leaders.
As for the Eleventh, they lacked a lieutenant only because Kiganjō couldn’t bother to find someone to fill the role.
Back to the current lineup, next to emerge were Kuchiki Sōjun and Ōmaeda Marenoshin of the Sixth and Second Divisions, respectively. The rotund man was gesticulating wildly as he conversed with the more regal lieutenant.
Then Kuchiki’s eye caught Miyako’s. There was a barely perceptible shift in his features as his gaze turned disdainful. Despite the dignified rancor directed at her, the Fifth Seat simply smiled fearlessly in response, utterly unruffled by the man’s condescension. In turn, Sōjun simply swept past, deeming the woman no longer worthy of his attention.
The exchange had taken less than a second, but as brief as it was, the sudden spike in tension startled Rangiku. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, just the normal way a Kuchiki greets a Shiba,” Miyako brushed off the moment casually.
“Okay….” Still a little unsure, the sight of their favorite lieutenants exiting the meeting room got Rangiku back on track. A grin split her face as she sauntered up to her best friend and gave him a hug, relishing the warmth that spread through her as she did so. “Good to see you!”
“Good to see you, too.” Gin happily returned the embrace. “I see ya missed me.”
“Maybe a little,” she returned coyly.
“Whoa, I see you missed me!”
Rangiku glanced over to see Miyako had boldly greeted her husband by wrapping her arms around him, much to his elation. Sending a smug grin to the other girl, the Fifth Seat answered to him, “Maybe a little.”
Seeing the couple embrace in such an intimate way reminded Rangiku of her matching position with her best friend, and she flushed. She broke the hug and stated, “Well, I don’t know about you, Gin, but I’m hungry, so let’s go eat!”
“Sounds like a plan.” Gin wasted no time leading her off.
“Hey hold up, why don’t you come to our place for dinner,” Kaien invited.
“What you mean the Shiba estate?” His counterpart in the Eighth considered this offer. “Bit upscale fer our tastes.”
“Nah, I mean our quarters at the Thirteenth.” With an arm wrapped around each other's shoulders, Kaien and Miyako approached them. “Smaller and cozier, better for just hanging out with friends. Sound good?”
While the trickster deliberated as to whether he wanted to accept, Rangiku enthusiastically interjected on his behalf, “We’d love to!”
Before the silver-haired lieutenant could even offer a token protest, the Shiba heir grinned, “Great! Let’s go!”
“It will be a pleasure to have you,” Miyako agreed.
Accepting that apparently, he was not going to have a vote in the matter, Gin decided to just go along with it. This must be part of Rangiku’s “Get my best friend more friends” project, but given he’s had nothing but positive interactions with Kaien so far, he had no complaints about spending more time with the married couple.
“…So then I said, ‘Oh come on, we won’t get into trouble for this,’” Kaien started winding down his tale.
“Cue my sister opening the door,” Miyako sighed with faint embarrassment of recollection to the amusement of their guests.
“Good job jinxin’ it,” Gin snickered.
“How are you still alive?” Rangiku managed to ask through delighted giggles.
Kaien rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Pretty sure it was because she secretly found it hilarious.”
“Didn’t stop Nee-sama from giving us the biggest scolding of my life,” Miyako grimaced.
“Even if you were a problem child then, she must be proud of you now,” Rangiku smiled. “I mean, you got to be Fifth Seat right after joining the Gotei 13!”
Kaien winced, and the lovely brunette’s smile turned brittle. “Actually… Nee-sama never wanted me to become a shinigami; it’s the reason why I had so much time to train for the role before I could enlist.”
The blonde flinched at her unwitting insensitive remark. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, you didn’t know,” Miyako assured her. “Were it not for my marrying Kaien, and thus putting me under Shiba authority instead of hers, she still would have maintained her ban. And even then, she still argued most vehemently with me against my decision.”
“And confession time,” Kaien broke in, “the real reason negotiations for our marriage took so long was needing to convince Sakiko-sama to not include a ‘don’t ever let Miyako become a shinigami’ clause in the contract.”
Rangiku looked between them with concern. “So has your enlistment caused you to be estranged from your sister?”
The couple looked at one another, then both smiled. Miyako took Kaien's hand and held it to her breast fondly. “While this is by far our largest disagreement, we do hold each other dear, so we will work it out. It helps that I understand why she opposes my career choice. Our father and a couple cousins with whom she was close were all shinigami, and they perished in the line of duty. She just doesn’t want me sharing that same fate.”
“’KIA’ is the default cause o’ endin’ a shinigami’s career, yeah,” Gin agreed glibly. “So, if it causes such a big hullabaloo ‘tween ya and yer sister, why’d ya enlist?”
Miyako paused for a moment, a look of reminiscence crossing her face before she replied, “I was inspired by a cousin of mine. She died when I was young, so I don’t have many memories of her, but the few I do left a deep impression on me. I remember her telling me how she wanted to use her role as a shinigami to do good in the world, to be a peacemaker first and warrior second.”
“Ah, so yer an idealist,” the silver-haired officer deduced.
“And there is nothing wrong with that,” Rangiku elbowed him.
“Didn’t mean to imply there was,” Gin defended himself. “Jus’ sayin’ not many shinigami are so high-minded. After all, Rangiku an’ I only became shinigami ‘cause we figured it’d be better than being stuck in the Rukongai fer the rest of our afterlife.”
“There is nothing wrong with that rationale, either.” Miyako set about pouring fresh cups of tea and handed one to each of them. “Regardless of why we became shinigami, or whether we originate from the Seireitei or the Rukongai, or on which side of politics one takes, I think what’s most important is we perform our duties to the best of our abilities.”
“Don’t care much fer politics?” the silver-haired lieutenant leaned forward in interest.
“No, I still take an interest,” she corrected the assumption. “I am just aware that the duties of a shinigami should take priority.”
“I thought most nobles understood that?” Rangiku asked. “Or at least, they understood enough to know that they’d face Yamamoto’s wrath if they allowed politics to interfere with their shinigami duties?”
“Not overtly, but I remember Kyōraku-taichō mentionin’ our local blue bloods like to take slices at each other by more subtle means,” Gin recalled.
“Precisely,” Miyako confirmed. “I think most nobles know the importance of the Gotei 13’s role in maintaining balance, but the Seireitei’s security from exterior threats makes many take it for granted, leading them to believe furthering their agenda would have no effect on a shinigami’s duties.”
“Yeah, imagine somethin’ simple like gettin’ rid o’ high-rankin’ officers havin’ an adverse effect on a military,” the silver-haired lieutenant sighed in mock wonder.
“Wait, what do you mean ‘get rid of?’” Rangiku asked warily.
“A standard goal of nobles is to find a way to remove their rival from a position of influence,” Miyako explained. “Nowadays the most common method is by blackmailing the target through real or forged sins to get them to stand down or switch allegiances, but sometimes more… permanent methods are exercised.”
“So if they can’t get what they want, they’ll try to kill the other side,” the peasant girl summed up, unimpressed. “And here I thought we had left gang wars back in the Rukongai.”
Lieutenant Shiba rolled his eyes. “Nope, I’m afraid grabs for power by any means necessary - and sometimes unnecessary - are a universal trait. And I’m not going to lie and say our own families are innocent of that; both sides of this rivalry have partaken in some pretty dirty deeds to get an edge in politics.”
Rangiku found this to be a rather sobering realization, that family members to the friendly and welcoming individuals before her could be cold-blooded manipulators and killers. A glance at Gin reminded her that she was not exactly in the position to throw stones in that regard. Though she hoped to divert him from actions as dark as ones Kaien implied.
For his part, the young fox made a show of counting on his fingers. “Ya know, somethin’ I jus’ realized: I don’t hardly ever hear ‘bout the fifth Great House in all these tales of intrigue.”
“Well, the Nakatomi are pretty reclusive, so that’s to be expected,” Kaien nodded. “They’re long established as not partaking in politics, so they’re regarded as a neutral party by the other Great Houses. Naturally, they’re relied upon to be mediators and judges in legal and political matters where the two sides clash.”
“Don’t that mean there are three sides instead o’ two?”
“Technically yes, but the vast majority of nobles are on one side or the other,” Miyako chimed in. “Offhand, I’d say that Nakatomi and their allies compose about twenty percent of political influence, while the remaining eighty percent is split fairly evenly between the rival factions. One side sometimes gets ahead, of course, but the other side always manages to regain the advantage or at least restore the equilibrium.”
“Just as the balance of the worlds are maintained, so too is the balance between the political factions,” Kaien remarked theatrically.
“On that note, as fun as it’s been, it’s time fer us to be headin’ home,” Gin declared as he got to his feet.
“I suppose so,” Rangiku sighed, and rose to join him. “But before we go, may I have a moment between us women?”
“Sure thing,” Kaien shrugged and gestured to Gin, “C’mon, let’s wait outside for the ladies.”
Gin was obviously curious, but shrugged and followed the other lieutenant out the door.
After they had left, Rangiku turned to her host and softly said, “Shiba-san, I want to tell you I appreciate the way you engaged Gin tonight.”
“No need to thank me, it was quite enjoyable to speak with him,” Miyako replied demurely.
“I mean it,” the younger girl affirmed, and when the brunette raised a questioning brow, the Sixth Seat continued, “I don’t know how much Kaien-san has told you, but Gin has always had a hard time interacting with people aside from me. Kyōraku-taichō and Yadōmaru-fukutaichō were able to form a bond with him easily enough, but it took several years for the other shinigami in the Eighth to really accept him. Gin still maintains a distance from them, even if it’s not as… mistrusting and cold as it used to be. So having you and Kaien-san work to befriend Gin makes me happy.”
Miyako’s gaze softened at the explanation. “You’re worried about him being alone, aren’t you?”
Her thoughts went back to a certain night six years ago, when Gin’s dark side became fully exposed to her. “At times, yeah.”
“I can relate.”
Rangiku looked at her incredulously. “Wait, you’re telling me Kaien-san has a secret evil side?”
“Not like that,” the Fifth Seat huffed in amusement. “More in the sense I feel the need to put a check on his… excesses. Kaien is a brave man, and great shinigami, but that courage also often strays into brashness, and I fear his stubborn compulsion to throw himself headlong into danger will be the end of him. So I hope to be his voice of restraint, to be the one to tell him not to overextend himself when charging into battle.”
The younger woman shook her head despairingly. “What is it with prodigies and needing ladies like us to keep them in line?”
“Well, we need to make sure their heads don’t get too big,” the Fifth Seat smirked.
“Seems like we’ll have our work cut out for us then, huh?” Rangiku giggled.
“Indeed!” Then more seriously she stated, “But I suppose it’s only fair, as they’ve been there to help us with our own shortcomings.”
“I guess so. Gin’s so strong and smart, and he does a lot to help me get better at being a shinigami,” Rangiku recalled fondly. With mild annoyance she added, “And I suppose I should credit him with helping me get through paperwork as well.”
Miyako could not help but chuckle at her obvious distress. “As for me, I confess I sometimes lack confidence in my abilities, but Kaien has done wonders to encourage me on that front.”
“He really has, because you look anything but underconfident,” Rangiku remarked.
“Are you implying I’m arrogant?” the noble raised a daring brow.
“What? No…” Rangiku’s protest cut off as she caught the mischievous twinkle in the other woman’s eye. Her own narrowed in response. “I’m wondering if it’s a mistake to let you hang out with Gin, Shiba-san.”
“I would certainly hope not,” the lady replied, and then her tone turned more thoughtful. “As a matter of fact, if we are to continue encounters like this, perhaps we should avoid being so formal. If it’s not too bold, I would welcome us addressing each other by our first names. Would that be agreeable, Rangiku-san?”
The golden-haired girl blinked in surprise at the request, but nevertheless beamed in response. “Sounds good, Miyako-san!”
While Rangiku had plenty of girls she hung out with since her days at the Academy, and considered officers like Shigeta Tsukimi and Hosokawa Ikuko to be friends, Miyako was the first with whom she really clicked.
Besides, with Kyōraku and Gin being best buddies with officers from the Thirteenth, Rangiku did not want to be left out.
“That was fun, wasn’t it Gin?” Rangiku asked rhetorically as they strolled back to the Eighth Division.
“Yeah, it was,” he replied casually.
“Now aren’t you glad I talked you into it?” she grinned at him.
He just shrugged. “Kaien-san’s a fun guy, so I never had no complaints ‘bout hangin’ out with him.”
“And what do you think of Miyako-san?”
He paused for a moment as he considered his response. “She’s… interestin’.”
Rangiku took note of that ponderous answer. “What do you mean, ‘interestin’?’”
“From the way she plays Go and our talks tonight, it’s clear she’s a good schemer, though that’s part and parcel from bein’ a high-rankin’ noble. But despite that, I don’t got any nasty vibes from her like I do from most o’ the connivin’ folk around.”
“Well, someone who doesn’t ping your paranoia is a good endorsement,” Rangiku remarked.
“Since when am I paranoid?” he frowned.
“You say you get bad vibes from Aizen-taichō,” she reminded him. “And while I’ve humored you and not let down my guard around him, every single person who talks about him describes him as a good man and excellent officer to serve under.”
“Not sayin’ he ain’t good at doin’ his job,” Gin countered. “Jus’ sayin’ there’s somethin’ menacin’ under that nice guy façade o’ his.”
“Uh-huh.”
Third Seat Gondowara Yohachiro stormed up and glared at the scene before him. Three prisoners stood with their hands bound flanked by a squad of prison guards, one of them with bruises from a recent altercation. The warden focused his gaze on the ranking shinigami and demanded, “I want an explanation. Now.”
The irate tone was more than enough for the guard to promptly obey. “One of the patrols heard a commotion here, and moved to investigate, but by the time he arrived…”
He glanced over to the cooling corpse of another prisoner still on the ground from when the individual had the back of his head bashed in.
Gondowara moved his gaze to the wounded prisoner. “Did you do this?”
“Not intentionally, sir,” he answered. “We were walking down the hall, that guy went by me, and then suddenly he started swinging at me, growling something about running into him when we never touched each other! I wasn’t about to take his crap, so I fought back, and during our tussle he fell… and cracked his head on the floor, I think.”
“Pompous ass deserved it if you ask me,” one of the other prisoners muttered.
“If I want an opinion, I will ask for it,” Gondowara silenced him, but provided no other chastisement, given that he did not exactly disagree with the sentiment.
As a former Third Seat, Tanaka Ichirō had held the highest rank of those detained in this level of the prison, and for some reason he expected deference from the other inmates because of it. And when he learned that his former status granted him no special privileges within the prison, Tanaka did not react well, and became more aggressive in an attempt to make himself look strong, which inevitably alienated him from everyone else.
Honestly, it was more surprising Tanaka had survived six years with his attitude. The only reason he had not been lynched before was because of the guards’ sense of duty to maintain peace and order.
After contemplating the situation, the Third Seat declared to the surviving belligerent, “While it was an accident, you did kill another prisoner. Thirty days in isolation for you. The rest of you, go about your business.”
The culprit grimaced but did not protest, savvy enough to know to recognize a light sentence. As the prisoners went about their day, Gondowara beckoned to his adjutant and whispered, “Make sure he gets better food while in confinement.”
“Yes, sir,” the other Onmitsukidō replied.
An example had to be made to remind the inmates that misbehavior would be punished, but there was no harm in complementing it with a discreet reward for relieving the Third Seat of one of his most troublesome prisoners.
To be continued…
Author’s Note: At the end of that last scene, my beta-reader Tomas the Betrayer commented, “And somewhere, Aizen smiles!”
In hindsight, probably the most obvious thing I missed in the original run of AGNH was establishing a past friendship between Gin and Kaien. Seriously, I don’t know why it took me so long to consider how they might have interacted when they were both serving captains who were best friends, so not only am I exploring their relationship, I’m going the extra mile to see how Rangiku and Miyako became besties, too.
And after a couple teases, I have finally revealed the name of the fifth Great House in Soul Society, the Nakatomi, which still puts me ahead of canon. Seriously, probably the small detail I’m most annoyed about in “Can’t Fear Your Own World” was when we had the perfect opportunity to at least name the last house, but it was completely overlooked.
Thanks to everyone who left kudos, and special mention to Quendi555 and Black_Victor_Cachat for leaving comments!
Omake: Shinigami Illustrated Guide
The camera activated to show Rangiku tapping a pointer twice on her hand. She greeted cheerily, “Hello, and welcome to today’s lesson on Soul Society politics.”
Her pointer swung to the chalkboard behind her bearing the sigils of the Great Houses drawn on it. “The bedrock of noble politics revolves around the five Great Houses: Shiba, Tsunayashiro, Nakatomi, Shihōin, and Kuchiki.”
“Are ya sure ya should be the one to be teachin’ this lesson, Rangiku?” Gin questioned as he walked on the set. “I seem to recall this topic givin’ ya a bit o’ trouble at the Academy.”
“That’s because the teachers presented in the most boring way imaginable!” Rangiku complained, but her tone quickly became more excited. “Talking with Miyako-san has made me see the whole thing in a new light! Instead of looking at it like boring politics, I should have been looking at it like a social drama!”
“Whaddya mean?” he asked with a curious tilt of his head.
“In layman’s terms, Kuchiki and Shihōin have been besties since forever, and Shiba and Tsunayashiro have also been BFFs since forever, while Nakatomi is the loner that just hangs out by himself. Kuchiki and Shihōin hate Shiba and Tsunayashiro for being too laid-back, while Shiba and Tsunayashiro hate Kuchiki and Shihōin for being too uptight. And since they’re the strongest families, everyone else sucks up to them to get a piece of that wealth and power… except for Nakatomi, who thinks all this fighting is stupid and keep to themselves.”
“Huh, that’s a neat way o’ lookin’ at it,” Gin nodded in agreement. “An’ no ‘ffence to Kaien-san, but sounds like the Nakatomi are the most sensible o’ the bunch.”
“None taken!” the man in question called from off-screen.
Chapter 5: Epiphany
Summary:
Gin makes a realization, and Rangiku can no longer avoid the truth.
Notes:
Posting this a day early in honor of the twenty-fourth anniversary of the "Bleach" manga.
Chapter Text
Sixth Seat Matsumoto Rangiku loved sparring with Gin. While hakuda was her preference since that allowed her to win most of the time, zanjutsu was also entertaining. So they took turns setting rules on their matches, sometimes focusing on zanjutsu, other times hakuda, and other occasions making it a free-for-all.
For kidō and zanjutsu, Kyōraku Shunsui required his subordinates to have at least one spotter in addition to the practitioners in case of accidents. While the captain normally filled that role for Gin and Rangiku, he was currently attending to family affairs, so would not be around today, but Kaien and Miyako had volunteered. But until the married couple arrived, they decided to have a go without parental supervision, as it were.
And Matsumoto was definitely looking forward to her imminent victory. Not just because this was one of the few ways she consistently beat the cocky prodigy, but also because she had found her favorite way to win was to get on the ground and immobilize him using her body weight at strategic locations. It resulted in a very satisfying situation where she got to look down on Gin, and he gazed back up at her with reverence and respect.
Obviously, these sensations were due to the thrill of giving the prodigy a humility check. It couldn’t be anything else.
They closed once more, both on their guard. Seeing an opening, she reached for Gin, ready to begin the motion that would allow her to send him to the ground… only for the fox to slip from her grasp. She barely had time to register she had now overextended herself before found herself on her back, Gin on top of her and letting his body weight restrict her movements in strategic locations.
Clearly relishing his position and her stunned expression, Gin lectured, “Yer startin’ to get a bit predictable. I noticed ya always wanna beat me by pinnin’ me to the ground. Once I figured that out, it was pretty simple to head ya off.”
Rangiku flushed at his analysis. “That’s not true!”
He raised an amused brow. “If it ain’t true, then how’d I so easily counter yer moves?”
She glared at him, unable to honestly deny it but also unwilling to give him the satisfaction.
Gin leaned down until they were practically nose to nose. “So, there a reason why you’ve been particularly interested in endin’ our fights on top o’ me?”
It was just a simple question, so why did it send shivers down Rangiku’s spine? She wiggled at the sensation, but Gin’s grip held her firmly in place, and his grin gained a mischievous edge. “Oh? Is the answer somethin’ embarrassin’?” He descended further down until his face was a few scant centimeters away from hers as he gently whispered, “I promise not to tell anyone.”
For some reason, this assurance seemed to further agitate her, despite Rangiku knowing she trusted him completely. She swallowed and fought through the haze that seemed to have suddenly clouded her mind before meekly replying, “I-it’s an effective way to make sure a fight ends.”
“I can attest to that,” Gin nodded sagely. “But like I said, usin’ it so often made ya predictable. Now, I admit that it weren’t unpleasant to have ya on top o’ me…” Rangiku squeaked. “…so maybe ya were waitin’ fer me to return the favor.”
Though her face was starting to invent new shades of crimson, Rangiku could not find it in herself to disagree with that assessment; it was kind of thrilling to have Gin pinning her down, even if she was utterly mystified as to the reason.
Out loud, the young woman mumbled in mortification, “That wasn’t my intention…”
“Oh? And what are yer intentions?” Gin’s eyelids parted, and Rangiku suddenly felt entranced by his open gaze. Any thoughts of resisting her emotions vanished, and she subconsciously tilted her chin up in clear invitation for him to continue the sequence of events to their inevitable conclusion.
Appearing to act more on instinct than conscious thought, Gin was magnetically pulled down by her welcoming gaze.
“All right we’re here, so let’s…”
The spell broke, causing them both to focus on the entrance to the courtyard, where Shiba Kaien had trailed off at seeing what position the two Eighth Division officers were in. Next to him, Miyako’s cheeks were slightly pink as she held a hand up to her mouth.
Her mind suddenly clear, Rangiku now fully understood what had almost happened. Intellectually, she knew she should be relieved that the Shibas had stopped them from going too far. But a far greater part of her only felt frustrated, accompanied by the temptation to disregard their audience and pull Gin’s head down anyway.
For his part, the boy on top of her seemed to shake off whatever compulsion had ensnared them both, for his eyes returned to their normal squint, and he leaned back to grant her freedom of movement.
The moment he did so, Rangiku was gone in a buzz of shunpo, leaving behind a confused and disappointed Ichimaru Gin, and a pair of exasperated Shibas.
Heart pounding from the experience as she fled the scene, Rangiku could not deny that she and Gin had almost… almost…
“The word you’re looking for is ‘kissed.’”
Her heart skipped a beat as Kazantora unhelpfully finished the sentence for her, and that really worried her because if she was reacting like this after her… close call… then that meant she might actually have some less than platonic feelings for someone she should definitely not!
“How my wielder can travel so deep into idiot country is beyond me.”
Rangiku hated to admit it, but she had to agree; how big an idiot was she for falling for her best friend?!
“…Never mind, you’re clearly not a traveler, but a full and ‘productive’ citizen.”
Deciding to ignore her difficult zanpakutō for the time being, the Sixth Seat finally slowed to a stop to catch her breath, properly process everything that just happened, and decide what she should do next. Currently, the most tempting prospect was fleeing to the regions beyond the Rukongai.
“Rangiku-kun!”
The girl stiffened as she heard Shiba Miyako’s call, the Fifth Seat appearing before her shortly thereafter a bit out of breath from catching up. “Rangiku-kun, I believe we need to talk.”
The blonde wanted to continue her tried and true practice of denial, but she knew that was no longer an option. Instead, she nodded meekly before asking, “How do I fix this?”
“Short answer: go back and tell Gin how you feel about him,” Miyako answered promptly.
The expression she turned on the older woman held only abject horror. “I can’t do that!”
Miyako sighed. “I know it’s intimidating, but just think about how close you two are, and tell me how a good honest talk would be a bad thing.”
“And I don’t want to lose that!” Rangiku snapped. “If I tell him that I… that I have… non-platonic feelings towards him… it would change everything!”
Shiba's lips pursed in rebuke. “Besides the fact that change is not always bad, I believe you’re exaggerating on how severe it would be for you and Gin-san.”
“What are you talking about?”
With a beckoning gesture, the two sat down on the ground facing one another. “Stop and think about how you and Gin-san interact on a daily basis,” Miyako began. “The way you casually touch each other, the implicit trust you demonstrate, the deep care you show… going to him and confessing your feelings would do nothing but expand on the strong foundation you two have already built.”
Romantically inexperienced as she was, the blonde stared at her incredulously. “Wait… you seriously think… that Gin… might like me back?”
It took a moment for Miyako to realize that question was sincere. It took all her courtly training, but the lady refrained from many wittier responses, and simply answered, “Yes, he does.”
“Oh yeah?” Rangiku asked bitterly. “Then how is it that in all the years I’ve known him, he’s never shown an interest in girls?”
Patience exhausted, Miyako regarded her friend with the gaze that one usually did when seeing someone do something particularly stupid.
“Don’t look me in that tone of voice!” the blonde officer growled. “I dare you, name one girl he’s ever been interested in.”
“Matsumoto Rangiku.”
“What?” the owner of the title blinked at the use of her full name.
“You asked me to name one girl Gin-san has ever been interested in,” Miyako elucidated dryly. “And her name is Matsumoto Rangiku. But don’t worry, there’s no need to be jealous of her; she’s too afraid of confessing to be a rival for your affections.” Unruffled by the glare she received for this, the brunette continued, “Rangiku-kun, I’m being serious: now that it’s been clearly spelled out that you are in love with Gin-san and he reciprocates, you need to go seduce him.”
“S-s-seduce him?!” Rangiku went beet red at the very notion. “There’s no way I can do that! Why can’t we just be best friends like always?!”
“All right, let’s try a thought exercise, then. Let’s envision a scenario where you get your way, and you do not enter a romantic relationship with Gin-san. Then, some years down the road, another woman notices him, finds the sly fox more attractive than intimidating, and starts flirting with him. How would that make you feel?”
Unbidden, a growl of jealous fury escaped the smitten girl’s throat.
“That’s what I thought,” the noblewoman nodded smugly. “So instead of throwing a way an opportunity for happiness both you and Gin-san can share, how about you make a move before some other girl starts to see the same attractive qualities in him that you do?”
Her flash of temper was immediately snuffed out as she contemplated that course of action.
Miyako pressed on. “I mean it, Rangiku-kun. If you do nothing, then you will have no one to blame but yourself should he find someone else to love, and no right to complain.”
“I know, but… the idea of talking to Gin about this scares me to death!” She greatly disliked how whiny her voice sounded, but there was no helping it.
“I can understand you being afraid, however you have nothing to worry about,” Miyako assured her gently.
The blonde looked timidly at her. “You think so?”
“Indeed,” the brunette nodded. “Just be brave. Tell Gin-san how you feel about him, and you will be chastising yourself for not doing it sooner.”
The besotted girl whimpered, but took a deep breath, stood up, and started to walk back the way she came. Slowly.
At Rangiku’s abrupt departure, Gin felt puzzled, plus oddly deprived. Something about their interactions had obviously flustered her, but he could not quite put his finger on what it was. He noticed Miyako taking off in pursuit, but Kaien stayed behind and sat down next to his friend.
“Uh… what happened?” the younger lieutenant asked.
Kaien offered a leisurely shrug. “I just got here, so why don’t you tell me?”
“I dunno; we were sparring, I managed to pin her down, we did some banterin’, and then… things got weird.”
Focused as he was on his own thoughts, Gin failed to see a speculative smirk cross Kaien’s face. “Weird how?”
The young fox mulled the question over. “Well, I was feelin’ really warm, and I swear the air felt really tense, and Rangiku was lookin’ at me so intently… I was also feelin’ the urge to be… close to her.”
“You two looked like you were about to kiss,” Kaien pointed out.
“Huh, we were?” Gin blinked in confusion. He then reviewed the events in his head. “Oh, yeah, we probably were.”
His compatriot did not say anything yet, just waited. His patience was rewarded seconds later when the silver kit stated, “Kaien-san, Rangiku and I almost kissed.”
“Uh-huh,” he nodded in confirmation.
“Kaien-san, I’m not happy ya and Miyako-san interrupted Rangiku and I from kissin’,” Gin continued in an analytical tone.
Here he had the grace to look sheepish. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“If Rangiku and I were ‘bout to kiss, and I’m that bummed ‘bout not gettin’ to kiss Rangiku, then that means… I’m romantically attracted to her,” the younger prodigy concluded.
Though amused by how clinically Gin was processing his feelings, Kaien simply confirmed his findings. “Yep.”
“Oh.” Gin sat there a few moments more, and his romantic ally allowed him time to think things through. Eventually, the boy continued, “So… a lot of the stuff Rangiku and I do together… that ain’t stuff just best friends do?”
“Some of the hugs might be, but the way you two were always so touchy-feely with each other made it obvious to the rest of us that you had something more going on, whether you two were aware of it or not.” Kaien could not believe how relieved he felt at finally getting this out in the open. “Honestly, I’m just baffled at how both of you have served under Kyōraku-taichō this long and still remain so clueless about romance.”
“Are ya callin’ him an expert on the subject?” Gin asked wryly.
“Silly me,” the Shiba lieutenant chortled.
“It is weird, ya know,” the silver prodigy noted. “He is a captain an’ a powerful noble, so if he really wanted a girl, there wouldn’t be much that could stop him.”
“No, I suppose there wouldn’t be,” Kaien’s expression sobered, but then redirected the topic, “And don’t try to go on a tangent; we’re talking about your love life right now, not your captain’s.”
“Right,” Gin rubbed the back of his head uncertainly. “So, I realize I got these feelings fer Rangiku now. An’ lookin’ back, it almost seems like… she also got feelings fer me?” The excitement and hope in his voice at that deduction shifted to confusion just as fast. “But Rangiku’s way better at this social stuff than I am, so if she wanted me in that fashion, wouldn’t she have brought it up before?”
“Not necessarily,” his sensei in love replied. “It could be she wanted to wait until you were more cognizant of your stance on romance before approaching you. It could be that she wants to be the one romanced, and so all those interactions were subtle means to communicate her interest in you without being overt about it.” He paused dramatically, and casually threw out the explanation he knew to be the correct one. “Or it was just a big blind spot for her as it was for you, so she needed someone else to spell it out for her, like Miyako is doing right now.”
Anticipation returned to the young fox’s voice as he asked, “So ya think I got a chance with her?”
Kaien had to bite his tongue to prevent dozens of potential snarky responses to that question from escaping. Instead, he merely assured the twitterpated fellow, “Yes, you have a good chance with her.”
Gin smiled contemplatively and shrugged, “’Kay, then I guess I go and talk to Rangiku.”
“Just like that?” Kaien cocked an eyebrow again at his confidence.
That argent head tilted to one side. “Ain’t that what a guy’s supposed to do when he likes a girl?”
“True, but most people aren’t so fearless when it comes to the idea of confessing to their crush.”
“If I like her, and she likes me, then it seems dumb to not talk ‘bout it,” Gin concluded.
“That’s right, communication is important,” Kaien affirmed. “Keep that in mind not just when talking about your feelings now, but anytime issues come up in the future.”
“Will do.”
With that declaration, Gin strode off in search of the one he loved.
Despite his confident words, the more he had time to contemplate his intentions, the more trepidation he felt. Which was illogical. Gin had surmised that Rangiku reciprocated his feelings and Kaien had confirmed his findings, but despite that, the boy felt more nervous than he did against any Hollow.
Still, he pressed on, determined to see this through. And as he marched, he pondered what he should say. Something straightforward, make sure he conveyed his feelings clearly. Last thing he wanted was for a miscommunication to happen that lasted thirty chapters, like in those romances Nanao pretended she didn’t have.
After several minutes of plotting his impending conversation, Gin turned a corner and saw Rangiku, and his mind went blank. While he always knew she was pretty, it was so constant and self-evident he did not reflect on it much, the same way one did not stop to think about how the sky is blue.
But with the recent revelation from Kaien in mind, Gin could not help but realize how much he loved to bask in Rangiku’s glory.
He wondered if it was narcissistic of him to find Rangiku’s eyes to be so lovely. Whether it was or not, he decided he loved them anyway. Beautiful, bright blue eyes so full of exuberance and vibrancy, and though occasionally clouded by anger or sadness, only once could he recall them seeing marred by tears. He aimed to keep that count static.
Like himself, Rangiku was rarely without a smile, though hers inspired more positive emotions in others than his did, and the mole beneath the right corner of her mouth accented her gorgeous grin perfectly.
For practical reasons, Rangiku never allowed her hair to grow beyond her shoulders, and currently it only reached the bottom of her jaw. Her locks were a lovely shade of strawberry-blonde, straddling the color line between red and gold.
Gazing at her pulchritude caused inspiration to strike, and Gin realized what he would say.
“Rangiku, you’re beautiful,” he declared fondly.
She squeaked at his bold compliment, which only encouraged him to continue. “An’ I’m not jus’ talkin’ ‘bout yer outward appearance. As pretty as yer eyes an’ yer smile are, I think yer best feature is yer heart. The way ya seek to live life happily, the way you can befriend most anyone, that lil’ streak o’ mischief that lets ya have fun, it all makes it clear to me that yer an amazin’ an’ beautiful woman.”
With each word that escaped his mouth, Rangiku’s face grew ever redder, and a number of times she tried to open her mouth to say something only to close it immediately. If Gin knew how cute she was when flustered, he would have done this years ago. Emboldened by his success, he took a step forward.
The motion jolted Rangiku into action, and she… suddenly vanished from view. Gin blinked in surprise at the realization that she had fled the scene.
This… was not what he had expected. What should he do now?
“Go. After. Her.”
Shinsō’s uncharacteristically urgent command spurred him forth, and he gave chase.
“What. Are. You. Doing?”
Kazantora’s question was not one Rangiku could provide an answer for. Gin had been saying so many wonderful things about her that her heart had burst from the overload of affection, and she felt the need to flee to recover from the barrage of compliments.
“What kind of tigress shows such meekness in front of such a worthy mate?”
Gin was not her mate!
“Certainly not at the rate you’re going, he won’t be! Now what are you going to do about it?”
With her cheeks still blazing, Rangiku nevertheless cut her reiatsu emissions as best she could and leapt to the top of the nearest wall a bit behind her current location.
Gin appeared in front of her, momentarily unaware of her presence, but she knew that with how sneaky he was, it wouldn’t take long for him to reacquire her trail.
Taking full advantage of the opening, the feline shinigami pounced on her prey.
Sensing the imminent attack, Gin turned in her direction, but it was too late. She collided with him and he fell to the ground with her form on top of him.
“Pinned ya,” Rangiku grinned triumphantly down at her quarry.
The captured fox did not look a bit bothered by his predicament, looking up in awe at the visage of loveliness above him. “Yeah, ya did, beautiful.”
The stalker squeaked and moved both her hands over Gin’s mouth, her face steaming from how hot it was. “Stop saying things like that!”
Despite the new position giving him an obvious opening to regain the advantage, all Gin did was raise an inquisitive brow.
“Okay, maybe don’t stop permanently…” she muttered self-consciously. She took a deep breath and continued in a wavering voice, “You… need to let me have a turn… you know?”
Gin’s eyes parted in curiosity, his mouth still covered by her hands. “Hm?”
Rangiku gulped as she met his gaze, and as intimidating as it was, it also gave her a starting point. “Your eyes are so beautiful, it’s a shame you don’t show them more often. But on the other hand, I feel so special that I’m one of the few that gets to see them.”
While Gin did not move, she could see his cheeks start to warm. This told her she should advance further. “I know you smile a lot to keep other people off-balance, but I love how all the ones you give me are real.” As much as she would love to see that smile now, she kept her hands firmly in place, fearful of any words that might emerge to overwhelm her again.
Rangiku paused and searched for more to maintain her momentum of confession. “I think you’re amazing, too, Gin. You’re so skilled and smart, it makes me think you can do anything you put your mind to.” She took a deep breath. “You’ve always been there for me. You’ve been there to support me, help me, build me up… make me think that I can do anything I put my mind to.”
Finally, Gin moved his hands on top of hers. Initially she thought he was going to remove them so he could get a word in, but no. He just let them rest there, stroking hers softly. The gesture was so intimate Rangiku wanted to cover her face in embarrassment, but despite how gently he was holding her, she found it more difficult to escape from than iron fetters.
Eventually, it became apparent she needed to let him talk now, so slowly moved her hands from his mouth, shifting them so her fingers intertwined with Gin’s.
“Ya know, words like that are also a big reason why I like ya so much,” the newly unmuffled fox mentioned.
Her heart skipped a beat, and though still flustered, she managed to reply, “Says the guy who can’t stop saying sweet things about me.”
“Well, ya give me a lotta material to talk ‘bout.”
Rangiku gave a not quite sincere growl of frustration that was undermined by her flattered smile. “Maybe I should cover your mouth again.”
“If ya do, can I request that instead o’ yer hands, ya use yer lips?”
Her breath hitched in trepidation and excitement. “You mean… you want to… k-kiss?”
“Why not? We almost did earlier, and right now seems like a good time to try again,” the boy explained sagely. At her hesitance, he added a bit more shyly, “If ya wanna, that is…”
Oh, now that that she had accepted her feelings, she found the temptation to follow up on their earlier encounter too enticing to refuse. She took a deep breath to calm herself, closed her eyes, and thrust her face towards Gin’s.
And subsequently bonked her forehead against his. They both flinched away, nursing their sore spots.
“Aya, Rangiku, if yer opposed to the idea, ya coulda jus’ said so,” Gin pouted.
“I do want to, that was an accident!” Rangiku hissed back, absolutely mortified by her blunder.
He perked up. “Wanna give it ‘nother shot?”
She nodded shyly. “Maybe a bit slower this time.”
“Yeah, ‘til we get the hang of it,” he agreed. After a moment, he suggested, “Maybe it’ll be easier if I sit up?”
“Okay,” she obliged, remaining comfortably in his lap as his torso lifted off the ground and allowed him to be at eye level with her.
“Now, let’s try tilting our heads a lil’,” Gin instructed softly as he brought up a hand to caress her face, directing the angle in the same motion.
This time when they moved in to meet, their destination was on target and unobstructed. As the distance shrunk centimeter by centimeter, any lingering trepidation on Rangiku’s part retreated in favor of anticipation.
And finally, their lips touched.
Both froze as they absorbed the softness accompanied by a sensation not unlike a static shock coursing through their bodies. Rangiku almost instinctively pulled back out of startlement, but Gin recovered in time to apply more pressure, and the increased pleasure from the act enticed the young maiden into doing her part to deepen the kiss as well.
During all this, Gin maintained a clear lead, making slight adjustments to their head and lip position as he sought to convey his affections using means that a thousand words would fail to encompass.
After a few seconds… or minutes (or an eternity for all Rangiku knew), they pulled away, both breathing far more heavily than they were before.
“Wow,” she whispered in wonder as she traced her lips with her fingertips, relishing in the lingering warmth.
“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement.
“You… felt like you knew what you were doing,” Rangiku noted.
“I used some tips I read in Lisa-san’s book.”
She groaned and let herself slump onto his chest, and was very satisfied to hear how loudly his heart was thumping within his ribs. After allowing herself to bask in the knowledge that she was the cause of that rapid rhythm, she took a deep breath. “Right. Of course you read it.”
He raised a brow down at her. “Didn’t you?”
She looked away sheepishly. “I… found it hard to follow.”
“Really? I thought it was pretty straightforward myself.”
“That’s… the reason why I found it hard,” Rangiku explained with a twitch in one eye.
“Oh, right, yer more of a hands-on learner,” Gin recalled mischievously. “Want to practice?”
“Yes!” she agreed in unabashed excitement.
“A-hem.”
The new couple glanced over in mild irritation at the interruption to see a pair of smug Shibas.
“As overjoyed as we are at your new relationship,” Miyako stated with a teasing twinkle in her eye, “I would strongly recommend that you continue your celebration in a more private venue.”
“Plus, it can’t be comfortable to make out on a stone floor,” Kaien added.
“Were you spying on us?!” Rangiku demanded indignantly.
“Not spying, monitoring,” Miyako corrected.
“What’s the difference?!”
“Spying is an invasion of privacy,” the lady elucidated. “As you two are in a public corridor where anyone could come across you, it would be inaccurate to describe our activities as ‘spying.’”
Gin glanced at their setting. “She’s not wrong, y’know.”
“Besides, we only monitored you guys because we wanted to be sure you actually resolved things,” Kaien explained. “Miyako actually slapped her face when she saw Rangiku-san bolt.”
“I most certainly did not,” she denied the allegation of broken composure.
“Then why is your forehead red?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe it is, and there’s no reason for it to be so.”
“Uh-huh,” Kaien grinned knowingly.
While the Shibas bantered, Gin and Rangiku reluctantly moved from their compromising position and got to their feet, hands firmly intertwined.
“Thanks fer your advice,” the silver-haired lieutenant said.
“You, too, Miyako-kun,” Rangiku assented.
“Please, pleasure was all ours!” Kaien waved off their gratitude with macho magnanimity.
“We’re just glad you worked it out,” Miyako echoed more gracefully. “May your relationship be a long and happy one.”
“All right, let’s go find our private venue,” Gin declared as he scooped Rangiku into his arms, earning a delighted squeal as he sped off.
Thrilled to be carried in such a manner by the boy she loved, she snuggled deeper into his hold and asked, “Where are you taking us?”
“There’s a warehouse nearby that was just inspected yesterday, and it’s designated for reserves,” he explained. “Means it’s unlikely anyone will disturb us there.”
This sounded a little too convenient. “How do you know that?”
“Ya’d know it, too, if ya paid more ‘ttention to yer paperwork,” he replied back with a wry grin.
Her face frosted over. “You should know that bringing up paperwork is a surefire way to kill the mood.”
Gin nodded in acknowledgment. “Paperwork will be our safe word, got it.”
Rangiku sputtered, “How do you know…?!” Realization hit. “Right. Lisa-san’s book.”
“Yep,” he confirmed cheerfully as he landed at their destination and gently put her back on her feet.
He opened the door to the warehouse for her, and as she passed, she said, “You do know while I’m eager for more kissing, I’m not ready to do some of the… other stuff that would be covered in that book just yet.”
“Not yet.” Something about the way he agreed with their current boundaries that made her shiver as he followed her in and shut the door behind him.
Privacy assured, Rangiku was about to pounce on him again, but was stopped in her tracks by a single finger placed on her lips.
Upon seeing her questioning look, Gin explained, “’Fore we get too distracted, I wanna say somethin’ first.”
“Hm?”
To her surprise and delight, he appeared almost bashful for a moment as he appeared to measure what words he wanted to use. “I… wanna make a promise. To always stay by yer side, to take care o’ you, and to be with ya no matter what.”
Rangiku gently grabbed the hand in front of her with both her own and moved it enough to allow her to speak. “Gin, that sounds an awful lot like a proposal there.”
“Not yet,” he smirked back at her.
This made her chuckle. “All right, I’ll accept your promise, but only if you hold me to the same terms. Deal?”
Gin’s smile shifted into one of pure joy. “Deal.”
“Anything else you want to say?” Rangiku asked softly.
“No.”
A predatory glint entered her eyes. “Good.”
The tigress pounced, determined to make up for all those years wasted on not kissing the stuffing out of this boy.
To be continued…
Author’s Note: As fun as it was to write how they got together in the chapter “About Time,” in AGNH 1.0, I decided keeping that chapter as part of 2.0 did not fit the storyline here, so while some parts are still lifted from the original version, I ended up letting the situation unfold differently, which I hope readers still find satisfying.
I’m afraid I owe an apology to Black’ Victor Cachat, who suggested in their review on FFN on the chapter “Turning Point” that Gin & Rangiku wouldn’t hook up until 19 years after that point, to make Kyōraku really start to sweat about his kimono as mentioned in the omake. Back then, I had not pinpointed exactly when they got together, so in my reply I said I would do exactly that. But as I got to writing their interactions more, I found quickly that it seemed implausible that they would go almost two decades with their “platonic” flirting without SOMEONE getting fed up with them about it, so I moved it up the timeline to 1907 instead of 1919.
And I have to say, with canon Rangiku being the embodiment of sexiness and beauty and Gin being an unflappable trickster, it was fun to write them as young, flustered dorks.
The bit where Gin and Rangiku have a brief chase was inspired by an old ShunNao fanfic, “Breathing Lessons,” by DarthAmmonite, which can still be found on FFN.
Thanks to all who dropped kudos, and special mention to zeromegumi and Quendi555 for leaving comments!
Omake: Shinigami Illustrated Guide
“All right, now that Ichimaru-fukutaichō and Matsumoto-kun have finally gotten together, it’s time to settle up the betting pool,” Kyōraku Shunsui announced to a gathering of shinigami in his division, sans the two in question. “After chatting with Shiba Kaien and Miyako, I found the results.
“The first and most obvious losers are the ones who bet on them never getting together at all.” Kyōraku leveled a deadpan look at the embarrassed young men who had obviously done this in the hopes that they could use their winnings to buy gifts to romance Rangiku themselves. “Second, and not quite as obvious losers are the ones who bet that Gin-kun and Rangiku-chan were already together but trying to keep it a secret.”
“I thought for sure that was the case with how they interacted,” Fourth Seat Takashima Hideki bemoaned.
“An understandable error,” the captain assured him and the others who wagered likewise. “The pertinent parties will already be aware of this, but all who bet that it would take less than twelve years since Rangiku-chan joined the Eighth also missed out.”
“I didn’t account for them to be this dense,” Third Seat Shigeta Tsukimi muttered.
“I know, right?” Fifth Seat Iwasaki Kenkichi agreed.
“Everyone who placed a bet on them getting together after more than twelve years since Rangiku-chan joining the Eighth also lost.”
“Grr, I would have gotten that pool, if it weren’t for those blasted meddling Shibas!” Sixth Seat Hosokawa Ikuko folded her arms in discontent.
“So, congratulations, Sixth Seat Hidoshi Aki,” Kyōraku announced, “You and everyone else who bet likewise are winners of the pool!”
For the first time Hidoshi found himself heartily grateful to the serpentine prodigy. Out loud, he remarked, “I should send Ichimaru-fukutaichō a gift of appreciation for assisting me in attaining the prize.” His lips curled in a sadistic smile so very reminiscent of the person in question. “I’m thinking a nice jar of sake.”
Chapter 6: Research and Developments
Summary:
Learning experiences for everyone.
Chapter Text
The thing about being a shinigami was, long centuries got broken up into brief periods of “interesting times” and extended spells of quietude. Mostly, that suited Kyōraku Shunsui just fine; gave him plenty of excuses to nap.
But this captain’s meeting was a much less fun example of ennui, full of routine reports and being briefed on pertinent matters from other divisions.
“On a smaller matter, the Onmitsukidō reported that the humans are militarizing again,” Yamamoto announced.
And now it looked like “interesting times” were about to resume. Recalling the conflicts against China and Russia, Kyōraku sighed, “Are they keeping a schedule now to start a war every decade or so?”
Semi-seriously, Watanabe Eito commented, “I’ll make a note to put the Third on a state of alertness ten years from now.”
“Better make it nine to be safe,” Shunsui advised in kind.
Yamamoto brought the meeting back on track. “Regardless of intentions, fortunately this time the task force they have assembled is far smaller than their previous excursions. Tōsen-taichō, I will assign this responsibility to the Ninth Division as your first campaign as captain.”
Having gained his haori three years prior, Tōsen Kaname nodded solemnly. “Where are the humans attacking?”
“The Chinese port city of Tsingtao.”
“It seems Japan is seeking to further expand their territory,” Aizen Sōsuke remarked.
“Indeed,” the general confirmed. “According to our scouts’ observations, they are also dispatching a small force to seize some islands far outside anywhere previously patrolled by Gotei 13, and are not expected to encounter much resistance. With these two factors in mind, I will not be assigning any shinigami to shadow their movements.”
“But what about the souls that will die in battle?” Ukitake Jūshirō asked in concern.
“They will have to manage on their own,” the general decided sternly.
“If we are supporting our humans at Tsingtao, surely we can also a few squads for this excursion…,” the Thirteenth’s captain pressed.
“The islands in question are over twice the distance than it is to China,” Yamamoto’s tone broke no compromise. “And it is over unexplored, open ocean, instead of a previously visited area with known landmarks.”
“You don’t think there would be enough Japanese souls to act as a connection for a Senkaimon to work?” Watanabe asked.
“At such a distance, and over areas more recently contested, we cannot be certain.”
Kyōraku considered this point. Senkaimon was the portal from the land of the living to the dead, and the primary passage for shinigami to travel between Soul Society and the material realm. Since it was a spiritual gate, it did not matter where in Japan a shinigami opened the door; whether it was the northern shore of Hokkaidō or the southern tip of Kyūshū, one could trust they could find their way home easily enough.
Even other regions could be accessible for shinigami as long as there was sufficient Japanese presence in the area to act as a tether, even in other nations such as China and Korea (though the latter likely did not count as much anymore, since it had recently fallen under Japanese dominion).
“With our humans setting a pattern of getting more adventurous in their wandering, maybe we should look into that?” he suggested.
Yamamoto hummed at the counsel. “That shall be passed on as a topic for the Research and Development Institute. But for this operation, my decision stands; there is too much risk for too few results to send shinigami on their more distant campaign.”
Though Ukitake clearly was still disappointed by the decision, he raised no further objections, nor did any of the other captains.
Satisfied that there was no more talk on that subject, Yamamoto continued, “Now, onto the next item…”
Since the meeting was the last item of the day, Kyōraku was free to head on home. Most of the time, he considered that to be his quarters at the Eighth, but he felt the inclination to visit his family estate. Being fortunate enough to not be a serious contender to be head of the family, that position going down his brother’s line for several generations now.
His arrival at the Kyōraku estate was met with the usual guards to confirm his identity prior to entry. After this procedure was complete, he was then informed of a certain visitor, and Shunsui decided to make a detour before bothering his great-great-great… great-great nephew.
The pink-clad captain entered his family’s library and saw Yadōmaru Masahiro sitting at the desk up front, working diligently over the records. Upon noticing a new arrival, the archivist stood up and bowed. “Greetings, Kyōraku-sama.”
“Afternoon, Masahiro-san,” the captain nodded amiably. “How are you doing today?”
“Quite fine, thank you,” the stoic librarian replied.
“And your family?”
“My wife is as lovely and doting as she ever is.” Only long experience with Yadōmaru reticence allowed Shunsui to detect the undercurrent of genuine fondness in his voice. “And the children are progressing well in their respective goals.”
Lisa had been the fourth child born in her family, with two older brothers and a sister. Shunsui suspected that the reason she had taken so quickly to Nanao and Gin was for the privilege of being the older sibling for a change.
While the Yadōmaru family was gainfully employed by the Kyōraku clan, and hence not in dire financial straits, Lisa’s wages as a lieutenant easily made her the wealthiest member of her family, and as such had been sure to always send some money home.
Pensions and life insurance were typically not included in the benefits package of being a shinigami. With very few exceptions, there was no way to officially retire from the Gotei 13; even those no longer categorized as active shinigami were considered reserve officers that could be called upon in time of need.
Fortunately, while the Gotei 13 had nothing in its budget designated for a shinigami’s next of kin if they died, there was nothing stopping a shinigami from taking the initiative. There were banks and businesses that offered such a service to non-noble shinigami, charging a premium for the promise of disbursing a set payment to a shinigami’s surviving family. And if a captain was wealthy and generous enough, they could set up a fund for this purpose as well.
Despite his reputation as a profligate, Kyōraku did not spend his entire wealth on sake and women. He had enough investments that ensured an accumulation of a great deal of profits over his long lifespan, and he was more than willing to pass it on to subordinates who needed it.
So with the loss of Lisa, Shunsui felt it only right that the Yadōmaru be granted compensation, and made payments to them out of his own pocket. He knew it was illogical to blame himself for what happened to Lisa, nobody knew how bad the situation was, and no one had suspected Urahara of betraying the Gotei 13. But despite the irrationality, and the fact that since Lisa’s assets had been left to her family and as such they were not hurting for money, he still felt an obligation; to him, it was as much wergild as it was a pension.
“And how are you doing, Kyōraku-sama?”
Pulled from his morose thoughts, Shunsui could just make out concern within that otherwise bland expression. While Lisa told him she did not intend to reveal to her family the exact nature of their relationship until closer to her goal of attaining her white haori, the Eighth’s captain could never tell if his potential father-in-law had his suspicions. “About the same.”
“That is good to hear,” Masahiro nodded. “I presume you are also here to check on Ichimaru-fukutaichō?”
“Yep. Not tutoring him today?”
“Not this time, he said he just needed some reference materials,” the librarian answered.
“Can you point me to which section those materials are in?”
Shortly thereafter, Shunsui found his mischievous lieutenant at one of the tables with several open books in front of him.
“For someone who professes an aversion to political entanglements, you spend much time reading on the subject,” he commented wryly.
“Hey, jus’ ‘cause I don’t got no interest in playin’ the game don’t mean I ain’t interested in spectatin’,” Gin explained. “’Sides, with all the nobles I’ve been hangin’ out with, I figure I oughta be better educated on ‘em.”
In truth he had not forgotten the time Masahiro had offered him help if it was needed, and in recent years had accepted it in the form of consultation of better understanding politics. It was not a frequent occurrence, as the archivist had his own duties, and Gin often could figure out topics on his own initiative. But it was still helpful to have someone on hand who could navigate the Kyōraku library to find the best book for what he wanted to learn.
“Wise,” Shunsui nodded. “So, why does genealogy grab your interest today?”
“Well, I was readin’ a lotta the stories on noble intrigue…” the prodigy held up his current tome. “…But I kept gettin’ lost on who’s who, so I decided I needed to keep some family trees on hand to keep track of ‘em all.” He gestured in front of him to the half-dozen open books on the table.
“It can get confusing at times, yes,” Kyōraku chuckled. “What’s got you stuck?”
“Well, this book I’m readin’ is ‘bout some o’ the early exploits o’ the clans, and some o’ the names I recognize, but they’re on the opposite side o’ the rivalry I thought they were on,” Gin explained. “Fer example, the Arashi clan; I coulda sworn they were best buds with the Shiba, but in this story they’re helpin’ out the Kuchiki. They swap sides or somethin’?”
“It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes clans will change sides,” the senior captain confirmed. “It typically doesn’t occur with stronger families with direct ties to the Great Houses because they have longer, deeper relations, so that kind of change of allegiance would be far more harmful than not. Former allies would detest them for the betrayal, and new allies would not readily trust them. So it’s usually the lesser clans that have more choice in changing their preferred faction, depending on influence, money, or just the personal feelings of the head of the family.”
“But the Arashi ain’t exactly small-time,” Gin recalled.
“No, they are not, and that’s why their defection was so infamous.”
“So what prompted ‘em to leave behind the Kuchiki if it were such a hassle to join up with the Shiba?” Gin leaned forward in curiosity.
Shunsui paused. “Gin-kun, were you taught anything about the Takuiyoki Conspiracy at the Academy?”
The silver-haired fox took a moment to recollect. “It got mentioned once in history class, yeah. They were a clan that were plannin’ a coup to overthrow the Central Forty-Six, but they were discovered and put down ‘fore they could carry it out.”
“The Kuchiki were the ones to uncover the evidence for the coup and present it to the Central Forty-Six, and the whole Takuiyoki family was sentenced to execution for treason,” Kyōraku elucidated. “And at the time, one of the Arashi women had married a member of the Takuiyoki clan. The Arashi tried to enlist the Kuchiki to petition the Forty-Six to have their kinswoman spared, arguing that she had no knowledge of the plot. But the Kuchiki refused, citing that there are no exemptions when it comes to upholding the law.”
“The Arashi didn’t take it well, I imagine,” Gin surmised.
“No, they did not. The clan head ordered an immediate cessation of all deals with the Kuchiki, including a betrothal that would have led to increased relations between the two families if the Takuiyoki Conspiracy had not happened. And to make sure all bridges were burned, the Arashi who was originally engaged to their house instead married a member of the Shiba.”
The young lieutenant let out a whistle. “Talk ‘bout yer messy breakups.”
“Indeed,” Kyoraku agreed wryly. “The Kuchiki attempted to sue the Arashi for breach of contract, but the head of the family and his lawyers were shrewd and ingenious, and the Central Forty-Six ruled in the Arashi’s favor.
“If you ask the Kuchiki and their allies, they will say the Arashi are weak-willed traitors who do not have the stomach to go to the necessary lengths to protect Soul Society.”
"Dang," Gin grimaced. “With an attitude like that, how do the Kuchiki have any allies at all?”
“Because many of them think likewise, and believe that their clans would never behave so dishonorable, thus they have nothing to fear from Kuchiki retribution,” Kyōraku explained.
Gin scoffed. “Figures.”
The old nobleman just shrugged his pink-clad shoulders. “It also helps that this stalwart adherence to the law means that if you get an agreement with Kuchiki in writing, they will uphold their end of it to the best of their ability.” He paused as if to consider something, and then continued more quietly, “And while I advise you not speak of this casually, the truth is that our side of politics has also offended allies in parallel ways. The most recent example was last century, when a Tsunayashiro got into a fight with a member of the Kasumioji, then an ally clan, and ended up murdering him. When the Tsunayashiro was not tried by the Central Forty-Six due to his family’s influence, the Kasumioji was furious and cut all ties with the Tsunayashiro, then firmly aligned themselves with the Shihōin.”
Gin’s face was inscrutable for a moment as he absorbed the tale. Finally, he asked, “Kyōraku-taichō, I know Rangiku and you and the others have been tryin’ to get me to learn morality and stuff, but considerin’ how lil’ stock the Gotei 13 and nobles seem to put in that, why do we need to bother?”
At this his superior officer's features clouded over. “Because right now, Gin-kun, we are living in an age when Soul Society is in the same place you are: learning how to live more ethically. The Gotei 13 we live in today is not the same as the Gotei that existed a couple centuries ago. Much has happened since then, and we have opened our minds and hearts to better ways of doing things that would not have occurred to us then.”
“What happened that made y’all rethink yer lives?” Gin inquired.
Shunsui was silent for a moment, his head tilted down to allow the brim of his hat to conceal his expression. Finally, he answered, “I’m sorry, Gin-kun, but… that’s not a topic I would rather discuss today. All you need to know is that… it inspired much self-reflection.”
Accustomed to his captain patiently and freely rewarding his curiosity, the prodigy was surprised by the deferral. Still, this uncharacteristic reticence was enough to clue him in on respecting that decision without complaint, and he nodded in understanding.
Shunsui smiled genuinely at his vice-captain to assure him there were no hard feelings, and placed a hand on his shoulders. “While I would love to chat more with you, I need to check in with my family. See you later.”
“See ya.”
As Gin watched his captain depart, he could not help but ponder what event(s) could be so horrible that Kyōraku would be hesitant to disclose them. Thinking about it, didn’t Lisa once mention a genocide campaign against humans that happened within the past couple centuries? Was that related?
The fox closed his current volume, packed up all the lineages, and returned them to their places on the shelves. Then, he went back to Masahiro to get a lead on his new topic to research.
Seven years had passed since Gin and Rangiku officially started their romance, and just as Miyako counseled, though this was a big change in their relationship, it proved to be a good one. Matsumoto got to enjoy everything she relished about spending with time Gin, but after the upgrade, all those experiences got augmented. The noblewomen had sent her smug “I told you so” looks for weeks, but it had been a small price to pay for her newfound joy. This development led to yet another parallel between the Eighth and Thirteenth Divisions, and further encouraged close bonds with each other.
In one such example at present, Rangiku was with Kyōraku and Gin at the Thirteenth Division, trading tips with Ukitake, Kaien, and Miyako. It had become a regular occurrence that they would have such sessions, with the captains offering their advice to their juniors, and two married couples brainstorming ways to improve.
Today, Rangiku’s progress with her zanpakutō (or lack thereof) was the topic of discussion. She had more or less had stagnated with Kazantora over the past several years, where she continued to have difficulty properly controlling the movements of the ash cloud. To make matters worse, the spirit proved uncommunicative, interacting only to goad her into more wild chases. The only sign that Rangiku saw any improvement at all with her zanpakutō was the fact that the mountain in her inner world was slowly but steadily getting bigger.
Tired as she was of the lack of advancement in this area, Rangiku started to focus on other the other aspects of shinigami combat. In the twenty years since she had joined the Eighth, Gin was still ahead of her in most areas of shinigami performance, but the gap was far narrower than it used to be.
“Maybe going about this the wrong way,” Kyōraku considered thoughtfully.
“What do you mean?” Flopped on the ground in a funk, Rangiku peered up at him.
“Let’s take a step back and have a look at the basics. When you try to control Kazantora, how do you do it?”
“Um, I just try to pull her in the direction I want her to go. I don’t put much thought into it.”
“Have you ever tried just controlling portions of the cloud at a time, instead of all at once?” Ukitake inquired.
“No, I haven’t,” Rangiku admitted. “Can I go ahead and give it a shot now?”
“Sure thing,” Kyōraku nodded, and gestured to the others, “Stand back, everyone.”
Her comrades obliged, save for Gin who stayed long enough to give her a peck of encouragement on her cheek before heading to the safe zone. Rangiku grinned, morale and confidence boosted by the gesture of affection. Making sure she had a strong, two-handed grip on the hilt, she pointed her zanpakutō in the opposite direction of her comrades, and declared, “Erupt, Kazantora!”
The blade exploded into a vast orange and grey cloud that took no time in filling the courtyard in front of her, the vicinity’s temperature spiking as it did so.
Rangiku sought to put the new method into action. Selecting a random peninsula of ash, she raised the hilt of her sword and willed the escaping plume back into formation. To her relief, it heeded the direction without too much of a struggle.
Grinning at the accomplishment, Rangiku mentally grabbed a bigger clump of the cloud and spun it in an experimental circle. It responded more sluggishly than her first attempt, but still far more favorably than when she tried to manipulate the whole thing at once.
A third test wrestling with half of Kazantora cemented the pattern. She could grasp and direct smaller portions of her zanpakutō for finer control of movements, but the more she tried to manipulate at once, the more difficult it became.
Rangiku sealed her blade and turned to her friends who all applauded her accomplishment. “Thanks for the suggestion, Ukitake-taichō!”
“It was no trouble, I’m sure you would have come to the same realization,” the white-haired captain replied modestly. “Sometimes one just needs a fresh set of eyes to look at a problem.”
“Now that ya can control smaller portions, ya think ya can work yer way up to havin’ better control o’er the whole thing?” Gin asked.
“I’m hoping that’s the case.” She examined her soul cutter. “As great as it is to find a new way to work with Kazantora, I’ll be really disappointed if what I did just now is the limit.”
“While you were doing those circles, a thought occurred to me,” Miyako spoke up. “Have you tried using that technique to its logical end, and make a tornado out of it? Perhaps consolidated into a tighter space, Kazantora will be easier to control?”
“Huh, sounds like an interesting idea,” Rangiku pondered. “Let’s try it out.”
Once again, the other shinigami backed up to a safer distance, and the blonde officer released her Shikai. When the ash cloud had settled into the arena again, Rangiku raised the hilt of her sword into the air and started spinning it in a circle. Selecting a smaller batch as a starting point that accumulated mass as she directed it into a spiral.
It was slow going; the ash felt thick and heavy like she was trying to stir a vat of molasses, but she could feel the particles gradually swirling into a column before them.
Finally, Kazantora completed her transformation from amorphous cloud to towering tornado, the spinning orange and grey streaks giving the appearance of the same stripes that attired the zanpakutō’s spirit form.
Part one accomplished, Rangiku willed Kazantora to move, and to her delight and surprise, the pyroclastic maelstrom obliged, leaving a scorched line on the ground as it traversed the courtyard.
But the feat quickly strained her concentration, and it was not long before the cyclone started to dissolve into a cloud again. Not wanting to deal with her zanpakutō’s random movements, Rangiku quickly sealed her weapon and stabbed it into the ground to keep herself upright as she panted heavily, but also wearing an ecstatic grin.
Gin was by her side an instant. “You all right?”
“Tired, but I’ll be okay,” she reassured her sweetheart.
Comforted by her answer, he smiled broadly. “That looked like it worked real well.”
“It was both easier and harder,” Rangiku replied as the others arrived to check on her. “That trick certainly let me have more control over Kazantora than I ever had before, but it took a lot of effort to maintain.”
“That’s encouraging to hear,” Ukitake smiled, and to his own officer he said, “Good thinking you your part, Miyako-kun.”
“Thank you, but some credit should be given to my husband for inspiring me.”
“Huh? How so?” Kaien asked curiously.
She tapped on the Shiba family crest tattooed on his arm, the Tsuiten no Kuzure Uzushio. “The better question is, why didn’t you think of it?”
Kaien stared down at the inked whirlpool for a moment. “Uh… because I was so focused on the elemental differences of our zanpakutō I didn’t think to apply commonalities?”
His wife sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”
As the couple bantered, Kyōraku remarked to his subordinate, “You know, now that you’ve had this advancement in control over your Shikai, I’m thinking you might be due for promotion to Fifth Seat.”
She gasped in excitement at the decision. “Thank you, captain!”
“Just giving you the credit that you deserve,” he replied warmly. He then turned to Miyako. “Now that we’ve made progress with Rangiku-chan’s zanpakutō, is there anything you want to review with yours?”
As the focus of the lessons shifted, Gin murmured seductively into Rangiku’s ear, “Wanna come to my quarters tonight fer a special celebration?”
“Yes!” she whispered back eagerly.
“Good evening, Tarō.”
Sato Tarō immediately sat up in his cot at this affable greeting, sweat pouring down his forehead. He saw his true master Aizen Sōsuke standing in the cell with him. Their last meeting was the night he had been arrested, when the boss had chastised them for biting off more than they could chew, and as punishment, he would provide no assistance in their trial. He also made it clear that if they tried to reveal anything about his true nature, their fate would be far worse than anything the Seireitei could throw at them… a high claim that the thugs would have been skeptical of if it came from anyone else.
With the knowledge that it was in his best interest to keep quiet and quietly accept the consequences of his actions, Sato was able to get a relatively lenient judgment. Tanaka and Narita, on the other hand, had not disclosed anything about their liege, but their tempers had resulted in more extended sentences.
When Narita had hung himself, Tarō had an inkling but no proof that it might not be suicide. But when Tanaka had been “accidentally” killed in a brawl, the lecher knew for certain that his co-conspirators’ deaths were engineered by an unseen force.
And now Aizen was before him, a haori sitting comfortably on his shoulders signifying a promotion since he had been sent to prison. Given that the cell was locked and he had not heard it open, Sato presumed that he was faced with an illusory avatar communicating with him.
“Aizen-sama,” the convict bowed deeply. “It’s good to see you again.”
“I’m pleased to hear you say that.” The schemer's brown eyes twinkled merrily. “Do you know why I have approached you?”
Tarō felt his throat go dry. “I know you’ve got to be the one who made sure Tanaka and Narita were… properly disposed of. But I haven’t talked, and my sentence is far shorter than theirs, so once I get out of here, I can go back to serving you!”
There was a heavy pause, and Sato started to fear that Aizen would deem him just another loose end to tie up. But instead…
“I believe you, which is why we are having this conversation now.”
The convict exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Aizen-sama. I swear I won’t let you down!”
“Your actions and behavior so far support that,” Aizen confirmed. “While you let yourself get carried away that night, your conduct in the aftermath, the trial, and imprisonment shows you have a level head and know where your loyalties should lie. I also understand you have started to ingratiate yourself with some of the other inmates?”
“Yeah, isolating yourself is suicide in prison, so I knew I needed to make friends with the right people,” Tarō started to puff up at the praise. “I can give you some names if you’re looking for recruits.”
“That would be helpful, but you are not to bring anything up with them until I’ve done background checks on them,” the Fifth’s captain ordered.
“Of course,” Sato agreed, and listed off the names he had built a rapport with, highlighting the individuals who might be receptive to his master’s cause.
“Thank you for this, Tarō,” Aizen stated once he was done. “As helpful and loyal as you have been, I’m afraid I will not be able to break you free from prison as you are likely hoping I would.”
It was an effort to hide his disappointment. “Because it would risk blowing your cover?”
“Indeed, so you must be patient and complete your sentence to be free.”
“I understand, Aizen-sama,” Tarō bowed, lamenting how he would be trapped in his current predicament for four more decades, but grateful his master felt he had not outlived his usefulness.
“But it would be remiss of me not to reward you for your loyalty, and provide you with some comfort.”
Tarō lifted his head, and blinked in surprise. Kneeling on the floor looking meek and contrite was the girl responsible for getting him thrown into prison, the frigid prude who didn’t know how to have fun.
“Tarō-sama, I want to say I’m sorry for what I did to you,” the recreation uttered with downcast eyes. “I realize now how stupid I was to refuse you, so please use me as you see fit.”
After this declaration of contrition, the visage of the girl (Ran-chan, that was her name) bent forward in full dogeza. The lecher swallowed as his heart raced for an entirely different reason now. He looked up at Aizen in complete awe.
“As you can guess, she is no more truly here than I am,” the illusionist explained. “But with Kyōka Suigetsu’s ability to manipulate all five senses, this facsimile should be more than enough to take the edge off.”
“Thank you so much for your generosity, Aizen-sama,” Tarō spoke humbly.
“I will leave you to enjoy your reward.”
With that, the avatar disappeared, granting the prisoner the illusion of privacy. But he did not care, as he had something far more captivating to hold his attention.
If he were like those brutes Tanaka and Narita, Sato would have pummeled the golem black and blue to vent his wrath, but he had better taste than that. Blood and bruises diminished a woman’s beauty, so it was always a chief goal of his to keep targets of his conquests unblemished for maximum enjoyment.
“Sit up, Ran-chan,” Tarō beckoned her. Though he knew this was pretty much a figment of his imagination, he wanted to play along with the scenario that the girl had come to her senses. “Just as my master was gracious to me, I shall in turn be gracious to you.”
He would not punish her, simply show the foolish harlot the fun she had missed that night.
His visitation complete, Aizen Sōsuke strolled through the corridors of the Seireitei, nothing about his visage revealing any hints of recently conducted clandestine meetings.
He was soon joined by Tōsen Kaname, and they engaged in idle chatter as they strolled, for all appearances just looking like two colleagues catching up.
Then they reached a dead-end path, and Aizen cast a muffling spell to prevent being overheard.
“He’s dead then?” Tōsen asked, assuming Tarō had met the same fate as Narita and Tanaka. A rigidly honorable warrior, he had held nothing but disdain for those three miscreants, and had only tolerated them because of their use as pawns in Aizen’s plans.
It came as a surprise when his master answered, “No, I decided to allow him to live.”
The shock and indignation in the blind man’s posture was clear. After a moment of internal struggle, he requested, “Aizen-sama, if it’s not too impertinent, may I ask why you did not dispose of him like you did the others?”
“As long as your question comes from curiosity and not insubordination, you may,” Aizen assured him. “And to answer, it is unwise to discard a tool before you are finished using it.”
“What use is he while in prison? Do you intend to have him scout for other allies against the Seireitei?”
“He offered such a service and I told him I accepted it so he would feel useful, but the truth is I have already scanned the registry of prisoners and concluded that they either would not serve my needs, or would be too much effort to liberate for our cause for the net gain they potentially possessed.”
“Then why not just put him to death like he deserves?” the rigid warrior asked in disgust. “While the blood we had them shed was necessary for the path of justice, Sato’s perverse desires have no place there. It is because of those urges he got himself arrested in the first place!”
“You are correct in stating his weakness, and indeed that will mean his usefulness will not be long-term,” Aizen acknowledged his chief subordinate’s point. “But nevertheless, I sense that there is some other purpose I can find for Sato Tarō in the future, so I am content to let him be for now.”
“As you will, Aizen-sama.” While clearly displeased that the lecher’s life had not been taken, Tōsen nonetheless accepted his liege’s decision.
To be continued…
Author’s Note: The more I write Sato Tarō, the more I feel the need to dip my hands in literal bleach afterwards. And unfortunately, I’m not done with him yet…
So show of hands, who was actually aware Japan even participated in World War I?
Seriously, I had this chapter take place in the late summer of 1914 for the sole purpose of the irony that the shinigami considered this a minor operation. While millions were dying in the slaughter fields of Europe in a conflict that would shape the course of the twentieth century, Japan only lost an estimated three to seven hundred in direct combat, plus another four thousand from related causes, when they decided to shove out another European power from the Pacific like they had Russia, as Tsingtao and the other islands Japan targeted were controlled by… Germany (talk about irony…).
Gin’s need to consult the family trees while reading about history is based directly on my first experience in reading JRR Tolkien’s “The Silmarillion.”
Takuiyoki and Arashi come from Tomas the Betrayer’s story “Hammered Down,” and the events as described in this chapter are loosely based what happened with them.
And unfortunately, this is the last of the chapters I have completed to the point I feel comfortable posting them. I will do my best to be more diligent in working more on this story, but I have no idea when I will be able to start uploading chapters again.
Thanks to all the kudos dropped here, and special mention to Quendi555, zeromegumi, JoaneValenti, SafariSunshine, and Black_Victor_Cachat for leaving comments!
Omake: Shinigami Illustrated Guide
Kyōraku stirred from an undisturbed nap, and that disturbed his ease of mind.
He pulled a pocket mirror to check his face. No ink.
He pulled out his jar of sake, drew the stopper and took a sniff. The beloved scent of alcohol caressed his nostrils. A quick sip confirmed it had not been tampered with.
Growing more uneasy at the lack of pranks, the captain got to his feet, adjusting his straw hat and blue kimono to cast a scrutinizing gaze at his surroundings.
…Wait, blue?!
He looked down and confirmed that yes, despite using it as a blanket to recline upon, Gin had somehow managed to swap out his cherished pink kimono for an identical cerulean one.
Moments later, he was back in the office, leveling a glare at his rapscallion of a lieutenant. “Ichimaru Gin, where is my kimono?”
Without an ounce of fear, the silver trickster replied, “Yer wearing it.”
“My kimono is pink, Gin-kun.”
“Not anymore it ain’t.”
An urge to scream bloody murder was suppressed. “Gin-kun, the kimono was pink when I started napping. The fact you managed to swap it out for an identical blue one without waking me up already stretches the bounds of credulity. I refuse to believe you could snitch it, dye it, and then return it without my noticing.”
“That’s ‘cause I didn’t, I got one of the sisters at Kusaki, Kemono, and Yoitenki to use a Kidō spell.”
Kyōraku blinked and slapped his face into one palm. Kusaki, Kemono, and Yoitenki was one of the premier weaving businesses of Soul Society, normally charging a fortune for their services. However, the Kusaki and Yoitenki had an infamous rivalry on what colors their product should be. “Let me guess, one of the Yoitenki offered to turn my kimono blue for free?”
“Personally, I think it looks better that way,” Gin opined.
“Pink is more stylish,” Shunsui argued back.
“I do think it’s a cuter color,” Rangiku hummed thoughtfully.
“I like the blue ‘cause it reminds me o’ how pretty yer eyes are,” the fox said to her.
“Keep it blue!”
The captain sighed. “Well, should you decide to get yourself a kimono to wear, you are more than welcome to have it be any color you want. Meanwhile, I’m going to Kusaki to make mine pink again.”
Translation Note: Kusaki, Kemono, and Yoitenki is Japanese for Plant, Animal, and Good Weather… basically as close as I could find to Flora, Fauna, and Merriwether.
Pages Navigation
Whyisitsodifficulttofindanunusedusername on Chapter 1 Sat 12 Jul 2025 01:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
Black_Victor_Cachat on Chapter 1 Wed 16 Jul 2025 12:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
SimplyChristian on Chapter 1 Thu 17 Jul 2025 03:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
Black_Victor_Cachat on Chapter 1 Thu 17 Jul 2025 04:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
shadow12312gx on Chapter 1 Wed 16 Jul 2025 04:37AM UTC
Comment Actions
SimplyChristian on Chapter 1 Thu 17 Jul 2025 03:57AM UTC
Comment Actions
Quendi555 on Chapter 1 Wed 16 Jul 2025 01:06PM UTC
Comment Actions
SimplyChristian on Chapter 1 Thu 17 Jul 2025 03:59AM UTC
Comment Actions
Quendi555 on Chapter 2 Sat 19 Jul 2025 12:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
zeromegumi on Chapter 2 Sat 19 Jul 2025 03:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
litacan on Chapter 2 Sat 19 Jul 2025 04:35PM UTC
Comment Actions
Black_Victor_Cachat on Chapter 2 Sat 26 Jul 2025 10:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
SimplyChristian on Chapter 2 Tue 29 Jul 2025 03:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
Black_Victor_Cachat on Chapter 2 Wed 30 Jul 2025 04:04AM UTC
Comment Actions
Quendi555 on Chapter 3 Sat 26 Jul 2025 10:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
Black_Victor_Cachat on Chapter 3 Sat 26 Jul 2025 10:33PM UTC
Comment Actions
SimplyChristian on Chapter 3 Tue 29 Jul 2025 03:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
Black_Victor_Cachat on Chapter 3 Wed 30 Jul 2025 04:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
SafariSunshine on Chapter 3 Wed 13 Aug 2025 06:58PM UTC
Last Edited Wed 13 Aug 2025 06:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
zeromegumi on Chapter 4 Sat 02 Aug 2025 02:26AM UTC
Comment Actions
Quendi555 on Chapter 4 Mon 04 Aug 2025 12:55AM UTC
Comment Actions
Black_Victor_Cachat on Chapter 4 Thu 14 Aug 2025 11:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
Quendi555 on Chapter 5 Thu 07 Aug 2025 08:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
zeromegumi on Chapter 5 Fri 08 Aug 2025 08:07AM UTC
Comment Actions
SimplyChristian on Chapter 5 Sat 09 Aug 2025 02:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
JoaneValenti on Chapter 5 Sat 09 Aug 2025 02:19PM UTC
Comment Actions
Black_Victor_Cachat on Chapter 5 Thu 14 Aug 2025 11:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
SafariSunshine on Chapter 5 Fri 15 Aug 2025 06:05PM UTC
Comment Actions
Quendi555 on Chapter 6 Sat 16 Aug 2025 02:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation