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@dokuhai
❝ –––-- 𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 ... 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 , 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 . + 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 ... 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 —- 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. '𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 —- 𝐒𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ; 𝐒𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 . –––-- ❞
private , canon divergent + highly selective 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐊𝐔 from the manga series bleach . written by iris | she/her | 35 | single-ship. [ ❁ RULES . ❁ VERSES . ]
𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐤𝐮 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐊𝐮𝐛𝐨
[ 最強の ] 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 / 𝐬𝐯𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨. hold me like I never did anything to hurt you... —- don't let me go, give me another minute to play here in your echo —-
𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐘⠀/⠀cas + iris. canon divergent, private, and mutually exclusive. 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍⠀/⠀humility⠀;⠀perseverance⠀ ;⠀ hubris ⠀;⠀ delusion⠀ /⠀ ©: ogata69
𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 : jackie ‣ iris
THEY WERE CATCHING DINNER TOGETHER; THEIR SCHEDULES ALIGNED AND GIN HAD NO PRESSING DUTIES TO ATTEND TO IN THE FIFTH... at last, they could breathe a little, reconnect. Though, as always nowadays, Gin had to be careful to not linger too close toward familiarity with her whilst in public unless he wished to risk landing her with accusations of not earning her way up on her own. Thus they dipped away down a less populated walkway, veering toward a shortcut that'd spit them out right by their favorite noodle shop.
There were still a few glances cast sharply their way, muttering whispers amongst passersby, lieutenants often didn't hang around students unless they were scouting them out for a position -- or something a little more predatory. Luckily their ages weren't vastly apart to add a far more concerning dynamic, but Gin still had to tiptoe.
❝ Heard your trainin' went well today -- practicin' Konsō's serious business, especially since it's a mission that offers ya a glimpse into th' World of the Livin'. It can be dangerous out there, Hollow lurkin' and all... but ya got, what, two or three Pluses sent off? That's real good. ❞
A genuine compliment carried more emphasis here -- Gin was all-too aware of Rangiku's frustrations, her shortcomings a sore subject worsened by the badge on his bicep and black robes contrasted by the white and magenta hue of her Academy uniform. He'd insist she was hard on herself, that even promising Shinigami-in-training like Hisagi Shuuhei could be rather pathetic and fail exams, but he knew it was nearly impossible to sway her from her pouty moods whenever they bubbled up.
His typical urge to kiss her whenever she pouted had to be stifled while out here, but that didn't stop him from feeling a flutter of 'fuck it, just do it' when glancing at her.
@dokuhai 's Academy-era starter she didn't ask for.
Rangiku feeling frustrated over her lack of any real progress, especially when compared to the man at her side who impressed everyone around him with his skill, was quite honestly the understatement of the century. She had watched Gin move onwards and upwards at a prodigal pace, graduating from Shino Academy in a single year ---- meanwhile she was on her sixth year here, pouring her blood, sweat, and tears into training in hopes that she could finally leave this place behind her.
And it wasn't like she held Gin's achievements against him ---- no, she was all too eager to celebrate his victories; both the little ones and those that were more grandiose in scale, like becoming a lieutenant within the esteemed Fifth Division. There was never any doubt in her mind that her childhood friend was strong enough to blow all the competition away ... but unfortunately for her, all of his accomplishments these past few years had a tendency to highlight Rangiku's own shortcomings.
She needed to stop comparing herself to him ... stop measuring her progress against his own. It wasn't fair to either of them. Besides, she barely even saw him these days. Between her training sessions and classes, and Gin's responsibilities and duties to the Fifth, their schedules hardly aligned as of late. The lack of his presence in her life lately was a massive source of frustration, in and of itself.
Rangiku was more than grateful to have him at her side ---- even if his presence earned her a few judgmental stares as they walked towards their favorite place to grab dinner. She wanted to reach out and hold Gin's hand, but ultimately thought better of it. There were too many prying eyes here, even as they sought out a less populated path.
As Gin praised her ability to send three souls off to Soul Society today, Rangiku couldn't help but toss him a smile. ❝ Abusing your position as lieutenant already by asking after little old me, Ichimaru-fukutaicho? I could've told you about the Pluses myself over dinner, you know. ❞ She was teasing him, of course .... though the blonde felt butterflies flutter in her chest, knowing that Gin had been eager enough to ask someone about her mission in the World of the Living today. Once again, she felt the urge to reach for him; to intertwine their fingers and press her lips to the top of his hand. Her gaze lingered on where his hand resided at his side, before ultimately staring down at the gravel in front of her.
❝ I pressed Haineko's hilt too hard into the first one, though. I swear I don't know my own strength, sometimes. ❞ Another understatement; Rangiku's physical blows during hand-to-hand combat sessions were in a league of their own. How many times had she accidentally knocked out one of her classmates when they were only meant to be practicing?
❝ ----Oh well. You win some, you lose some I guess. ❞
❝ Don't gimme that look, y'got your bad habits too, ❞ a brief and gentle tap of an elegant dark kiseru against the shallow ashtray basin's edge emptied its remains, and Gin let out the last exhale of smoke in a thin tendril that lazily coiled upward. ❝ -- jus' every once 'n a while... ❞
@dokuhai liked for a one-liner starter!
Rangiku hums in reply, a smirk forming on her lips as she leans in closer to the man at her side. ❝ Bad habits~? I have absolutely zero idea what you're talking about, Ichimaru-taichō. ❞ The lieutenant brushes a few short locks of hair behind her ear before that cute little smirk turns into a sultry pout --- her eyes softening as she casts Gin a look more that is more disappointed than disapproving.
❝ I'm only hurt that you didn't save me any...~ ❞
— Trista Mateer ,“I Still Forget We’re Not Even Friends”
“You hold an absence at your center, as if it were a life.”
— Richard Brostoff, from “Grief,” A Few Forms of Love (Finishing LIne Press, 2012)(via soracities)
“This must be what love is: a pain so radiant it cuts through all others.”
— Bone Map: Poems, ‘Beekeeping’ by Sara Eliza Johnson (via decreation)
In @godkilller's redemption verse where Gin survives the Winter War and has to atone for his crimes against the Soul Society, Rangiku truly grapples with her feelings towards him. On one hand, she's incredibly grateful that he survived and that they can work towards repairing their broken bond. But on the other hand, she still hurts so fucking deeply.
Rangiku was forced to grieve Gin in so many different ways... she experienced immense anger towards him at his initial betrayal, and then eventually that anger coalesced with bargaining during the war, itself. Guilt, depression, shock... all of those feelings hit her tenfold when he all but died in her arms. She still holds onto those last few words he said to her, about her being in the way.
For as stubborn and strong-willed as she is, she still wonders if those of her colleagues that judge her for sticking by Gin's side are right in their opinions of her... of them. And while Gin is fighting his own personal war within himself upon his failure to return back the piece of her soul that was taken, Rangiku has her own demons to face.
She also isn't able to drink away her problems at the beginning of this verse, either ----- mainly because she doesn't want to hear about the way all of her colleagues talk about her behind her back ----- nor does she want to experience her friends walking on eggshells around her.
tl;dr ----- his whole verse really challenges Rangiku to rediscover herself and her own wants and needs.
Charles Bukowski, "goodbye, my love," from The People Look Like Flowers At Last
HOSTILITY WAS NOT SOMETHING THAT WAS UNEXPECTED FROM THIS YOUNG WOMAN, IN TRUTH ---- it was not her anger that could make Aizen flinch back from her as much as it was other things. Down here in the dark ( how long had it been? how long how long how long how long--- ) that the god was encased, time held no meaning.
There was nothing of ontological flow in this vast dominion, one that was not his own. Where once he had surrounded himself with the ever varied hues of white upon ivory upon pearl, when once the man had adorned himself in the non-color, he was steeped in the darkness of this underground hell now. How the ink of this place stained him, seeped into bone and marrow and heart. He drowned within the thickness of it, was bound not just by seal but by the understanding of what had unfolded, an unraveling of threads that had been cut by word and blade and action.
He had no one else to turn blame upon. But Aizen thought not of Momo, of the young woman whose delicacy he had so cruelly shattered with cold dismissal. He had cared nothing for her beyond what measures he could take to see how far her faith in him and his supposed goodness would carry her. He had no taste for such naivety and had enjoyed it, almost, in some hot and sharp part of his soul. She had placed him and his entire self upon a pedestal and had never truly known him.
He couldn't stand it. Nor could Aizen truly stand her.
Yet, it was best not to forget that he himself was a sun of his own power, blazing with a refulgence that spilled out like streamers of light, beads of molten gleam spilling out in strings that anchored him to this spot. Hers was the fury of beauty, the wrath of one so neatly wounded and how her words drew forth less of grief and far more of that old sharpness in a moment such as this one and that brown eye grew sharp and less morose in a single breath of moment. For all that the stygian nature of this hell engulfed him, he was still a dangerous individual. BEST NEVER TO FORGET THAT. His being bound was not safety itself; the keys, the seals --- such trivial things could not prevent him from enacting a whim in his thoughts if he were to be provoked far enough. But the sharpness of his gaze remained only that; a hawk-like intensity that lingered upon her the way a bird of prey focused upon a shiver of motion on the ground beneath.
❝ At least I am honest enough to admit to holding the knife, Matsumoto-san. ❞ How that voice came out a smooth and clipped firmness. ❝ I certainly have not denied that since that day upon Sokyoku Hill. Or would it salve your anger if I were to play at denial and give you a chance to rail at me for it? ❞
Yes, his own tongue was still sharp and would ever remain so. Yet it was but a brief moment for he lapsed into that still silence the next, unwilling to let his tongue get the better of him in this moment. He had no reason to snarl at her and thus sought not to do so. All the same, though, he was capable of cutting deep with words as he ever had been. It was answers that Rangiku sought and she desired them enough to come and speak with him of such things. And the topic at question? The one man that Aizen had thought devoted to him and his desires even more so than Kaname had ever been.
Ichimaru Gin truly meant something to Aizen Sousuke, something that was impossible to place into the simple sounds of syllables strung together in a connection of words. He had meant more, far more, than that. He had little doubt that much of what he said would perhaps be relayed back to the higher powers that were, but he could not picture what else it was that they could do to him. He was entrapped here, bound by the weight of his own sins. It was shackle and chain, those sins, interlocking and promising that he would ever be left to understand his foolishness. How far he had fallen, wings of wax melting under the heat of hubris and leaving him to crash upon the rocks of pride, flesh torn and mangled.
Ichigo had not finished the fight.
It had been finished when the blade had run through his chest, when it had been exploded open, and when he had been dragged out of that darkness. Shadows were here; they were everywhere. For all that Rangiku was determined to prove there were no secrets or doubts in this place, Aizen knew that they were everywhere. Light could not always extinguish every shadow, nor could it disinfect every secret. The entirety of the Seireitei was placed upon a lie. But this was not the time nor the place to speak of that.
So he watched as she seated herself, gaze tracing over the lines of her face and figure, lingering upon the glint of the silver chain about her throat. Was it noose or promise? A symbol of hope, something that bound her? He suspected hope, promises, a tenderness dwelt behind the sentiment of such jewelry. Fingers twitched and moved beneath his bindings but there was only a slow exhale with her words, as if he were deflating and his eye closed again as that head crowned by shadow and blood dipped low for a second. Such words were acute but they were not, entirely, on point for what was possessed here.
❝ You say that I am not telling you why ---... ❞ Was that a hint of the old teacher's frustration in his voice? No; simply an emptiness that colored much of him. This wound she pressed on was certainly still bleeding, still fresh. It would ache and ache and ache until the end of time, a bleeding that threatened to engulf the ceilings and floors of this place, this domain.
AIZEN SOUSUKE HAD NO IDEA OF THE TRUTH OF GIN'S SURVIVAL.
❝ ... it was ... myself but not myself. ❞
His eye opened now, slit, gleaming like a flame of brilliant crimson in the darkness. The lighting was garish around them both, a filtration of purples that provided nothing upon his true colors. It was too neon, saturating skin with purple tinge and turning brown a rich maroon. His gaze was toned red, as if reflecting the sanguine chords that pulsed beneath the frail exterior of skin.
❝ But to truly explain it, then you must have faith that what I say to you is truth. And what is truth, then, if you will insist that everything I say to you is falsehood, predicated on the fact I deceived the Seireitei over decades, even centuries? With a mindset such as that, it will automatically color everything I am capable of saying to you now as a lie; until -- unless -- you change your mnd and choose to believe what I say to you now, then how can I answer the questions that you obviously want to pose to me with any certainty. Either you can swallow your mistrust and hear me out or you can attempt to determine what is said is truth or a lie. You cannot have it both ways, Matsumoto-san. ❞
RANGIKU’S LACK OF FEAR IN THE FACE OF THIS MAN WAS A WEAKNESS, beyond any shadow of a doubt. She had been uncaring, and wholly unafraid as she faced him at the tail end of the Winter War —-- though the weight of Aizen’s spiritual pressure in tandem with her injuries had left her unable to do much of anything as he had proceeded with his line of questioning.
The blonde thought back to the way he presented himself, then; a horror beyond recognition, so calculating and cruel… had he been in control of himself then? Or did the shift come after striking his second in command down? Either way, the intensity that burned in that exposed eye of his was something Rangiku knew she needed to be cautious of. Aizen was dangerous, even if she was careless and bold enough to come at him for his previous transgressions. There was too much at stake, now… Gin’s very fate rested upon her shoulders, weighing heavily on her heart, body, and soul.
This was no time to selfishly lash out. Rangiku needed to stay in control —-- to bottle up those emotions of hers, as best she could.
Aizen’s words left a foul taste in her mouth, but she would push through regardless. A headache formed at her temples as she regarded him, her anger and grief still clouding much of her judgment.
❝ As much as I’d love to go off on you, doing so won’t make much of a difference. Neither of us can undo the past, as much as we’d like to…❞ her voice trailed off a bit, dropping to a low whisper as sadness temporarily surpassed everything else she was feeling. ❝ —--as much as I’d like to. ❞
Rangiku took a moment to consider what Aizen had said regarding the truth. She had contradicted herself yet again, without realizing it… A constant source of frustration in her life, this inability of hers to come out and say what she truly felt. Living in a state of denial had been so easy… reality was much harder. Attempting to make peace with it all was far beyond Rangiku’s current capabilities.
She would have to meet Aizen halfway; to listen to his truths, and accept them for what they were. There was no other way around it —-- not until Gin emerged from his coma, at least. And even then, could she trust that he would tell her the truth?
Rangiku was so sick of the lies, the confusion…. all of it.
When she finally found her voice again, Rangiku cast her gaze up towards the other. ❝ I know…. You’re right. I hate to admit it, but you’re right. Just… the truth, then. I’ll accept it, whatever you say about those moments. I just need to know what happened. —-Please, Aizen, ❞ she all but pleaded with him, now.
@godkilller // continued from here.
GIN MAKING A PROMISE LIKE THAT FELT LIKE A FEVER DREAM, IN AND OF ITSELF. Had she actually drifted off when he spoke those words? That hum about her never getting hurt again, or him never disappearing on her… —--- Rangiku’s heart fluttered in her chest as she held him on that hospital bed, quietly considering his words.
❝ ...I’ll hold you to it, ❞ she whispered in reply against his neck.
It was not like Gin to make promises in general. At least for as long as she had known him, or whatever version of himself that he had spun up for her. He was always so careful with the words he spoke; his tone calm, calculated, even with her… always knowing the right thing to say when she was frustrated with him, or annoyed at his avoidance of the truths she sought out. She had given up on asking for such promises back when they were kids —--- perhaps out of fear of rejection, or abandonment as Gin began to excel his way through Shin’ō Academy.
She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s where her denial of who Gin truly was —--- or, better yet, what he was doing when no one else was looking —--- began. Rangiku had encased herself in that happy little bubble of unknowing for far too long; drinking her way through any doubts and fears that would creep up along the way. She wasn’t proud of the role she had played in all of this… she knew she wasn’t innocent.
Ah, but thinking about all of the mistakes she had made wasn’t helpful right now —--- to Gin, or to herself. And while Rangiku was beyond exhausted, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep comfortably like this beside him. Gin needed space to recover on his own… TO COME TO TERMS WITH HIS CONDITION, before the rest of the Seireitei knew that he had regained consciousness.
Sooner than later, Rangiku would need to seek out the captain of the Fourth Division. A plan of action was needed —--- not only for Gin’s continued recovery, but for what would happen next, seeing as her peers deemed Aizen Sōsuke’s fallen second-in-command to be a war criminal. The blonde thought briefly about her conversation with the man responsible for Gin’s current state, currently rotting in Muken —--- and how such a conversation would prove useful when matching it up with Gin’s interpretation of the truth. Central 46 was waiting on her… and, most importantly, waiting on Gin to wake up.
There was so much still up in the air, that it was a miracle Rangiku even considered the idea of rest, however fleeting such a thought had been. She decided she would wait until the morphine drip caught up with him, fully —--- when his chest would rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm that convinced the blonde he was finally at ease. Until then, she would lay there beside him, drinking in his survival, and avoiding the realities of what came next.
