This is not to criticize, or even worse disrespect in any form, other takes on the following matter. Simply put, to my point of view and interpretation I find a bit excessive to treat how Aizen treated Momo through the years as this gruesome, perverse, horror-like, totally evil, unbearable, cruel thing. There was manipulation, A LOT, and a great degree of awfulness, but the tender kind.
Hinamori Momo was a good girl; in fact, she was far too pure, young, and naive for it to be tolerable. Her big, dark eyes looked at her beloved Captain Aizen, as though he were the most noble man in all of Soul Society. She was blinded by her love for him.
Gin knew how dangerous love could be. And Aizen somehow knew it too. He had picked the poor girl himself from hundreds of promising academy students, and he had been right about her, of course, because Hinamori had fallen right into his trap from the beginning.
This unsettled Gin, not because he felt any pity for the silly girl, but because it only proved how well his captain understood human nature.
The setting sun painted the garden in orange and gold, making the petals of the blooming yellow camellias look as though they had been set ablaze.
Gin watched the scenery with mild interest, his lanky legs dangling from the edge of the engawa.
Captain Aizen, dressed in his white haori, was taking his evening stroll across the division’s central garden. He walked with that graceful serenity of a majestic, wise figure, contemplating the beauty of nature. The last rays of sunlight played across his hair, painting his features in soft, warm colors.
Hinamori, who was Aizen’s new lieutenant by now, rushed in. Spotting her captain, she bowed so quickly and eagerly that her bangs fluttered in the breeze created by the hasty motion.
“Good evening, Aizen-taichō,” the girl blurted out, lowering her head into a deep, respectful bow. “My apologies, sir. I-I didn’t mean to bother you off-duty, but…”
Aizen raised his palm in a calming gesture.
“That’s quite alright, Hinamori-kun,” he reassured her in the kind, soothing tone that immediately made Gin’s blood run cold. “As you see, I’m not very busy at the moment. And you are always welcome to come to me with your questions.”
These words must have made the girl very happy, because she visibly gained confidence. Her right hand clutched a piece of paper tightly. She was holding it so desperately, as though it were a sword, and she were about to jump into a battle.
“I made a mistake in my latest report,” she wailed sorrowfully, with embarrassment and shame painfully obvious on her young pretty face. “I only realized it while sorting through the copies, and we already submitted the original to the First last week.”
Her sweet, high-pitched voice trembled with emotion she didn’t even bother to conceal.
“I’m so sorry, Captain!” She bowed deeply once more. “You trusted me with the paperwork, and I made a mistake.”
Gin watched that scene with a great deal of amusement, doing his best not to burst out laughing.
During his time as Captain Aizen’s lieutenant, he had never cared much for the tedious paperwork. He had made countless mistakes, his handwriting barely legible, and there had never once been any consequences for it. Perhaps because, in his case, Aizen had always checked the reports after him, unable to relinquish his need for control.
In any case, the mistake certainly wasn’t worth this much fuss. It only appeared that way to the overly diligent new lieutenant.
The smile that graced Aizen’s handsome face was mellow, pleasant, and utterly fake.
“Don’t worry, Hinamori-kun,” the man comforted her in a voice as smooth as balm. “We will submit a correction tomorrow. I will show you which form to fill out.”
The girl beamed with glee, lifting her head toward him. Her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushing pink, as she looked at her precious captain.
“Thank you, Captain.”
“No. Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said, looking down at her and making it sound like gratitude. Or care.
It was nothing of the sort, Gin could tell.
When Aizen’s palm landed on Hinamori’s thin shoulder in an easy, seemingly supportive pat, it only sealed the girl’s horrible fate.
“Thanks to your hard work,” he praised, “we found out about the error. Without you checking it twice, we would never have known.”
The nasty smile on Gin’s face grew even wider. It all looked so staged: the garden, the golden light, Aizen’s soft brown eyes, and his even softer touch.
Hinamori blushed deeply, because what else was she supposed to do when her beloved, benevolent captain turned her mistake into a success?
“Y-yes, sir!” she stuttered and nodded awkwardly.
Aizen gave her a smile, patting her shoulder.
Gin nearly laughed.
In moments like this, he felt the annoying temptation to lean down and whisper into Momo’s ear: Run, little mouse. Else, he’s gonna chew ya up. And not even yer bones will remain.
When she was gone, Aizen joined him at the engawa, leaning back against the wooden pillar.
“You were staring, Gin,” he pointed out bluntly. It didn’t sound like an accusation, more like he was stating a fact.
Gin’s hand snapped up to run his fingers through his hair in a mock imitation of a stressed “you got me” gesture.
“I couldn’t help myself,” he admitted, perhaps too carelessly. “What can I say? I enjoy a good show.”
His captain said nothing. He didn’t smile, didn’t look at him. His gaze was already focused somewhere far in the future, or perhaps somewhere inward.
Taking the silence as permission to continue, Gin cocked his head and shot the man a sidelong glance.
“Ya could’ve made her do anythin’ for ya. Ya know that, right?”
“And what do you think?”
“I mean, ya could have her,” he emphasized the word “have”, sneering playfully yet darkly. “In yer bed. On yer desk. Any way ya want her. Or ain’t she to yer taste, Aizen-taichō?”
“You’re being crude, Gin,” Aizen scolded calmly.
His neutral tone didn’t betray genuine irritation, but Gin sensed that it was there, hidden underneath the polished surface. He didn’t apologize, didn’t feel the need to.
The sun had already sunk below the horizon, and nightfall left the garden wrapped in the embrace of early dusk.
“If you are observant enough, you will notice,” Aizen suddenly added, “the less you take, the more people are willing to give you. Unfulfilled desire creates a strong sense of longing, and that’s a powerful force.”
Shadows crept across the engawa, shrouding it in a cold, bluish hue. Aizen’s noble features seemed sharper after sunset, as if the nighttime had awakened his hidden, predatory side.
The man turned toward Gin, the night sky reflecting in the lenses of his glasses.
“How is your friend progressing?”
The question landed all wrong.
Gin’s smile faltered slightly. He had to play it cool.
“Rangiku?” he tried to fake confusion. “Haven’t seen her around lately.”
A thin lie hung between them, and both were fully aware of it.
“I thought you like her company,” Aizen questioned, never letting his tone sound too invested.
“She’s a nuisance,” Gin huffed, feigning frustration with Matsumoto, when in reality he was angry at himself for allowing Aizen to dig his dirty claws into his personal affairs. “Shall I get rid of her?”
He didn’t want to ask this question. But he did. What else was there to do?
The silence felt heavy as Aizen was evaluating the possible outcomes, causing Gin to dread his next order.
“There is no need,” the man finally decided, and Gin’s muscles relaxed. “She won’t matter in the grander scheme of things. But Gin…” he paused, his eyes invisible under the glimmer in his lenses.
Gin’s own eyes were hidden as well – as he liked them to be.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Don’t get caught up in that longing.”
A scene from a few decades ago forced itself into Gin’s consciousness: the same engawa, the same garden – even the blooming camellias, although Gin remembered them blooming white.
The two of them had stood face to face, and to Gin, his captain had appeared so tall and so mature. Gin – the freshly promoted lieutenant – had been just a small, skinny kid back then.
He recalled how he had to jerk his head up to look into Aizen’s eyes while Aizen, wearing the same white haori and the same tranquil expression of a wise man, said:
“Listen carefully, Gin. I have a secret to share with you.”
Gin’s little heart fluttered with unhealthy excitement.
This was it – the moment he had been waiting for.
Aizen lowered his voice as though he were making a love confession.
“Tomorrow, before I present my shikai to the other lieutenants, stay close and touch my blade.”
That was how Gin had learned how to protect himself against Aizen’s Perfect Hypnosis.
Tonight, the memory of that moment struck Gin with new meaning. Only now did he realize what Aizen had done to him back then.
The bastard had given him just enough to keep him motivated. And once the snake sensed the warmth of a beating heart, it followed its trail – lured by the promise of a soon-to-be feast.
The wind chased away the clouds, letting the moonlight fall over the garden. The air was growing cold. Gin rose from his spot on the engawa, ready to leave.
As he walked back to the Third Division, his thoughts returned briefly to Momo Hinamori. It made him sick how tragically easy it was to fool the poor thing.
He wouldn’t want to be in her shoes.
But what if he already was?
No.
He was a snake, and snakes could never be kept as harmless pets – snakes would always bite the hand that fed them.
***
The sound reached his ears as he walked by the private quarters of his little, sad-eyed lieutenant. It caught his attention immediately, because it wasn’t Izuru’s voice. It was a woman’s laughter.
Rangiku’s…
Drawn by the sound, much like a predator would be drawn to the sweet warmth of its prey, Gin entered his lieutenant’s room without even knocking. She was there indeed. He hadn’t been mistaken, he’d have recognized her voice in the depths of hell.
Sitting on her heels at the small, low table, Matsumoto held a white cup of sake in her slender hand.
His precious lieutenant was a little tipsy, a pink color spread across his hollow cheeks. The boy sat next to Rangiku, and from the look of it, the two of them were having fun.
Gin pressed his lips tighter together and flashed them an empty smile.
“My, my,” he mused mockingly, “isn’t it my criminally timid lieutenant… gettin’ cozy with somebody?”
“C-captain, I…” Izuru stuttered, surprised to see him. His honest, unguarded reaction was almost too cute for the boy’s own good. “It’s not what you think,” he assured.
His lieutenant was ready to further explain, but Gin didn’t really care. He never stopped smiling. He liked how quickly his sheer presence, his snake-like behavior, made people around him feel uncomfortable. At least the majority of people. Not Rangiku, though. No. Anyone but her.
“You should join us, Gin,” she suggested, waving a bottle toward him. “I never see you anymore. Come, have a drink with us.”
He faked considering her polite offer, his eyes hidden from view.
“Would’ve been lovely,” he hummed, “but I have a counter proposal. I think ya should go, Rangiku.”
She blinked, staring at him with her bright, silver eyes. Her loose posture didn’t change, as if she didn’t take his words seriously enough to believe them.
“What? But we’ve only finished one bottle,” she argued, drawing her full lips together in a childish pout.
Not moving from his spot at the door, Gin waved his bony hand dismissively.
“We wouldn’t want my dearest lieutenant to get wasted and miss his mornin’ drill, now would we?”
Kira mumbled something in his defense. Matsumoto pouted again, but she had no reply this time.
“I better walk you back, Matsumoto-san,” Izuru said quietly, his voice apologetic as though he were embarrassed. “It’s getting late.”
“No need…” she refused, but Gin swiftly cut her off.
“I’ll walk her back myself,” he stated, firmer than he intended. “Ya get some rest, Izuru. I’ll see ya tomorrow mornin’.”
None of them argued with his decision; both Kira and Rangiku had their reasons not to. After all, he outranked them, and they both respected him in their own, different ways.
The moon led their path to the Tenth Division, its silver light brighter than Gin would have preferred. But at least the streets were almost empty at that hour, aside from patrolling low-ranked officers.
They didn’t talk much, and Gin wondered whether she thought he was angry with her. Or did she sense his coldness and not know what to make of it?
“Ya’re awfully quiet,” he observed.
A sigh escaped her before she replied.
“I don’t want to bore you with my problems.”
He raised an eyebrow, his smile getting thin. “Yer lil’ captain givin’ ya troubles?”
“No, not him,” she answered, shaking her head. Her voice carried some sadness. “It’s just… nah, never mind.”
She didn’t say it was because of him, but Gin realized the truth behind her actions. The way her pretty eyes were avoiding his face, and how her body struggled to keep the distance from his.
He opened his eyes to discreetly admire her shape, her body, her skin – and how the moonlight highlighted her curves. It was unfortunate, very unfortunate indeed. She grew up to be such a beautiful woman. Yet strolling side by side with her only made Gin more worried about them being spotted together by one of Aizen’s goons. This walk was an unnecessary risk on his side. Still, he took that risk just to spend what little time he had left with her.
She deserved much better than this – than him.
He should have kept his distance.
He couldn’t.
They reached the door of her private quarters, and she turned toward him with a smile on her face.
“Good night, Gin. Thank you for keeping me company,” she said. “It was nice to see you again.”
He noticed her peach-colored lipstick as she spoke, and that cute beauty mark below her lower lip.
“Ya’re welcome,” he drawled and gave a small nod.
His gaze lingered on her face, then slipped a little lower to her visible cleavage.
To his delight, she took a sudden breath and her large breasts jiggled slightly.
“I hope you don’t mind…” she paused, her eyes darting to the side. “That I was at Izuru’s.”
“Oh, I know it wasn’t ‘bout Izuru. Ya wanted to see me.”
His words hit hard – too precise and too cold, as if he was attempting to take away her pretense.
Her eyes widened as she looked at him, desperately searching for anything that could possibly protect her. Gin didn’t give her that kind of comfort. Instead, he leaned in. His face still wearing his usual smile – a sly, playful one.
“Say, Rangiku. Did ya miss me this bad?”
He placed his palm at the wooden doorframe, directly behind her head, a gesture that could have been called casual. But it didn’t read that way.
Being taller than her, Gin was leaning down, his face dangerously close to hers. She smelled so nice – like vanilla and violet. Like something sweet and blooming that made him want to forget his restraint.
Blushing heavily across her cheeks and ears, she tried to step away, but the closed door stopped her.
“It’s your fault,” she whispered, “you keep avoiding me.”
She was right, of course. But she didn’t understand his reasons, and he wouldn’t tell her.
Seeing her like this, face flushed with emotions and sake, it did terrible things to his self-control. His instinct told him to touch her, to test how soft her body was. To engage with that intoxicating warmth beaming from her.
His hand moved on its own accord, carefully lifting to caress her cheek. He halted mid-motion, fingertips mere inches from her pretty face.
Slowly, he lowered his hand. And dug his greedy fingers into her silky scarf instead of her flesh.
“Ya’re so annoyin’,” he whispered back to her, his voice tainted with a mixture of sweetness and malice. “I’m avoidin’ ya ‘cause ya’re weak.”
His words cut her like daggers. How could they not? They were designed that way, to make her stay away. Stay safe.
He pulled back, giving her space. But she was frozen in place, petrified like prey before a hunter. So it was him who turned to leave first.
Before he could take more than a few steps, he heard her voice calling after him.
“Gin!”
He stopped. But he didn’t turn to her.
“Why?” she pleaded. “Why are you like this?”
With minimal movement, he looked over his shoulder.
Then he smiled.
“Relax. I was just kiddin’,” he said. “See ya around, Rangiku.”
Turning away, his hand lifted up to wave her goodbye without looking back.
He walked without a hurry, choosing the darkest paths. The moon, hidden behind the heavy clouds, made that easier for him. It seemed that the night itself wanted to swallow him, wrapping his tall figure in a safe, forgiving blackness.
What he had said to Rangiku might have been cruel. But it was necessary. After all, he had made a promise to her back when they were only kids. He wouldn’t get her involved in this – not with the killing, betrayal, or Aizen’s grand plans. He would protect her. In his own messy way.
She wanted him to stay, to kiss her, to hold her. Gin had seen that in her eyes tonight. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring himself to touch her – not with these hands, drenched in blood.
Could he ever kiss her with lips that hid fangs full of poison? If he did, she would have choked on the toxin. The bitterness of him would have made her ill.
His strides got increasingly longer as he continued walking and thinking back to how he had acted. He had teased Rangiku, making her blush. Then he had turned cold on her.
The recognition of the pattern didn’t sit well with Gin. Worse still, he could recall that cursed line in his head:
“Unfulfilled desire creates a strong sense of longing.”
Gin’s stomach twisted in a sudden spasm.
He felt like hissing, howling, spilling blood. He did none of these things, just paused, breathing the night air in with quick, desperate gulps.
If he was a snake, then Aizen… had to be the venom itself. This man’s toxic influence was crawling under Gin’s skin, running so deep within him that there was no antidote anymore. If he killed this monster, and rid himself of his snake fangs afterward – maybe then he would be cured of this poison. Only then would kissing Rangiku not feel so wrong.
He lowered his head, staring at the ground. Fresh blades of grass timidly sprouted from the earth in early spring. Deciding that the time to act was now, Gin curled his fingers into fists. He clutched them very tightly for a second, then relaxed.
The cold heart of a snake was beating steadily in his chest again.
A swiftly cast Kidō spell masked his presence, making him disappear into the night.
***
Shinsō waited patiently, hidden inside his sleeve – like a resting animal that seemed harmless in its slumber. Mistaking stillness for a lack of danger had been the final misconception of many of Gin’s previous victims.
Despite the midnight hour, a faint glow of a lantern was coming from behind the closed paper door. With a quiet knock, Gin announced himself. He waited. There was a movement inside, and a shadow sliding across the walls.
The door slid open with the subtle whisper of wood against wood. The tall figure of his captain appeared – familiar, but somehow a little different. The man stood barefooted, not wearing his usual shinigami uniform. Instead, he was dressed in a simple umber-colored yukata – a casual, private, almost intimate look.
Gin avoided staring, keeping his head low. His hands remained tucked inside his sleeves.
There were no words between them, not yet, at least. Only the cool, calculating glare that Aizen welcomed him with.
“Come in,” he said after a moment, not asking Gin’s reasons.
He didn’t question whether anyone had followed him. After the years and years of them scheming together, Gin had proven himself to be careful enough to avoid prying eyes.
Moving aside, Aizen let him enter.
His captain’s quarters were kept neat as always, clean, and nearly deprived of any personal belongings. The tall lantern at the far corner filled the room with a warm, golden light. Gin had been here many, many times, and never once had he felt at home.
“What brings you here, Gin?” the man inquired as soon as the door shut quietly behind them. “Did something happen?”
His voice was velvet smooth, but Gin could hear the suspicion coiling between the words.
He stepped deeper into the room, scanning the surroundings. He noticed the position of Aizen’s zanpakutō, resting on the sword rack. Sheathed. Impossible to reach quickly. Perfect for Gin’s plan.
He shrugged. “Can’t yer former lieutenant simply want to see ya?”
Nothing in his playful demeanor suggested what was about to come.
“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type,” his captain pointed out coldly. “Perhaps I have judged you incorrectly?”
Now, that was a trap that Gin recognized at once.
With his back to Aizen, he stood in the middle of the room, smiling unpleasantly.
“Ya never had to judge me. I told ya from the start.”
His head turned just slightly, so he gave Aizen a measuring glance over his shoulder. He watched the man approaching him casually, his steps muted on the tatami.
Gin’s pulse skipped involuntarily. He could do it now. It was the perfect moment.
Aizen did not suspect him, and even if he had, he was unarmed. Almost vulnerable. Open.
“I am a snake.”
The words left Gin’s mouth with a practiced ease.
His fingers tightened on Shinso’s handle.
“Indeed,” Aizen agreed, pausing a mere step from him. Close. But still not intrusive. “And snakes shad their skin. They grow out of it.”
For some irrational reason, the line made Gin hesitate.
He didn’t move, didn’t change his position, but internally, something shifted in his mind. He needed to analyze the situation again. What exactly was his captain suggesting? That his revenge was premature? Rushed? Doomed to fail?
“Did you know,” the man continued, his tone held no venom, not even a warning, “that right before crawling out of their old skin, snakes go nearly blind?”
Suddenly, there was a hand hovering over his shoulder. Aizen’s hand. Suspended mid-air, as if preparing to touch him.
Gin’s breath froze in his lungs, mid-inhale. Did Aizen find out? Did he realize Gin’s intent?
Careful fingertips brushed against the fabric at Gin’s right shoulder, almost as if they were smoothing creases. Then the palm rested gently on the same shoulder. Feather-light. Steady. And non-accidental.
Gin suppressed a shiver, his blood running cold.
“And while blind, their eyes appear blue,” Aizen added, letting his pretty words drip slowly into Gin’s ear. “Just like yours.”
The hand tightened its grip by a fraction, not to hurt, but to remind Gin of its presence.
Gin could hear his own heartbeat drumming loudly. Was he going to die tonight?
Aizen stepped even closer, his hand lingering. Intrusive. The warmth of his body clinging to Gin’s back like a winter coat.
The scent of him – something like ozone, or amber – was registered too clearly by Gin’s sharpened senses. He hated that he registered it, and wasn’t repulsed. The proximity felt familiar to his body. Decades of serving under this man had made Gin accustomed to his dangerous closeness. It didn’t dull his caution, no. Rather, it blended it with a strange sense of thrill.
His eyes fell upon a mirror hanging on the wall. This brought him back to a different moment – him watching Aizen practicing his smiles.
“Did ya rehearse that line, Captain?” he murmured. “The one ‘bout my eyes?”
His lips curved into a cruel kind of smile as soon as he sensed the slightest tension beneath Aizen’s fingers.
“I didn’t have to.”
Gin let out a soft, thoughtful hum.
“Well, it was poetic,” he teased.
He reached with his left hand, fingers brushing hesitantly over Aizen’s palm. The same palm that was sitting at Gin’s right shoulder. Their hands connected, Gin’s on top of Aizen’s, a gesture that might have looked like comforting a friend. There was no comfort behind it. Yet, none of them pulled the hand back. No one stepped away.
Without looking at the man right behind him, Gin chased the warmth of the skin spreading under his fingertips. His killing intent lay dormant once again – but the hunger remained, never fully satisfied.
“Captain,” Gin cooed, his tone sweet as poison. “D’ya ever get impatient? While waitin’?”
“Impatient?” Aizen repeated, as though he was trying the word on his silver tongue. “I believe you can call it that. Seeking progression is a matter of natural curiosity. Rejection of stagnation.”
His hand stayed where it was. And so did he. Still in an unsettling way that Gin had recognized as a performance of dominance.
“Despising the status quo, and rushing your decisions are two very different things,” his captain lectured. “My goal requires patience, and the result will be worth the wait.”
Gin didn’t argue with that. In truth, he believed the same thing. Getting the perfect opening to strike was a predator’s greatest reward. He didn’t have to kill Aizen tonight. Not when he held his hand in his grasp.
“Oh, I’m sure it will.”
He patted the palm resting on his shoulder. Patronizingly so. His captain must have hated it.
After a breath, he broke the contact. His hands slipped back into his sleeves as he stepped away.
“Sorry for botherin’ ya, Aizen-taichō,” he uttered in dishonest apology. “I better be goin’.”
He moved toward the exit. Not fleeing – taking less – exactly as Aizen had taught him.
His captain stayed where he was. No visible confusion, no clear disappointment. And yet there was a flicker in his eyes when Gin passed by him. It could mean anything at all, but Gin’s sharp instinct was telling him that there was something fragile behind the cold façade.
He was correct.
“Gin,” the hushed voice of his captain called his name before he reached the door.
“Tomorrow night I intend to pay a visit to the King of Hueco Mundo. I would like you to come with me to evaluate the strength of his army.”
It could have been an order, but it landed as a request. Far more polite than necessary. Nearly as though Aizen wanted him to want it.
Gin paused with his hand at the door, sneering darkly.
“Of course, Aizen-taichō. I’ll follow ya to the gates of hell.”
“Thank you, Gin,” the man said, almost tenderly. “I knew I could count on you.”
***
Where the roofless palace of the King of Hueco Mundo once had been, now stood Aizen’s white fortress – Las Noches. The night sky had been replaced with an artificial blue, and the walls had been built to trap anyone who entered.
The wild beasts were sitting at Aizen’s white table, sipping his tea instead of hunting and devouring. No one roamed free anymore. Now, there were rules to follow. Aizen’s rules, strict and logical.
This was what the man had brought to Hueco Mundo – forced progress, structure, and absolute control. His venom infected everything he touched, his hands too heavy not to leave a mark.
Even Gin, dressed in white as Aizen had wanted him to be, looked more like a pet snake than a waiting predator. Resting on a sofa with his head on Aizen’s lap, he allowed his captain’s fingers to run through his hair.
“Enjoyin’ yourself?” he murmured, eyes nearly shut. But not quite. He was always observing his captain.
“And you don’t?” Aizen returned the question. His hand continued the timid caress.
A serpentine smile slipped across Gin’s face – an expression he always gave, regardless of the situation.
“Guess we’re alike,” he concluded in an easy tone. Perhaps too lightheartedly for Aizen to believe him.
The disciplined fingers moved again, brushing delicately over Gin’s silver strands.
Was it still just a test? Or was there more to it?
After all, fate was a curious thing. Gin had planned his revenge over a century ago, and his blade still didn’t fall.
“You might be correct,” Aizen agreed.
His voice was carrying something difficult to grasp – a complexity he had once spoken of when discussing betrayal. Gin didn’t like that he couldn’t tell how genuine the stupid thing was. The idea of Aizen being capable of… of what? Finishing the thought might have been too dangerous.
“Give me your hand, Gin.”
The request came suddenly, surprising him with how unambiguous it was.
He hesitated for a brief second and couldn’t quite mask it. Showing his hands to the enemy was a strategic mistake.
Ignoring the discomfort, he offered his right hand. It slipped from beneath his sleeve and rose to meet Aizen’s. His captain took it gently within his own. The touch felt too familiar, bringing back memories.
His thumb trailed across the back of Gin’s hand, tracing the path around each knuckle. Slowly. Non-threatening. Almost reverently. It felt like the man was attempting affection. Or faking it so well that there wasn’t any difference.
Compared to his captain’s, Gin’s bony hand seemed rather thin, perhaps even fragile. His skin didn’t crawl at the contact. He let Aizen explore, play however he liked.
There was silence between them – no words, only touch, and the vast, white emptiness of Las Noches. Gin suddenly realized that this ridiculously large sofa, this giant fortress, this entire world – they were all too small for this deeply incompatible man. They had nothing, absolutely nothing, to offer him.
Gin could at least offer him the finality of death. Of all the Gotei 13, he alone knew how to do it properly. Aizen, oddly enough, might be willing to accept his gift. After all, he wouldn’t keep a snake as a companion if he were afraid to die.
“Captain?” he disturbed the tranquility, careful not to shatter it completely. “D’ya want me to do somethin’ for ya? Maybe somethin’ special?”
The man gripped his hand just a little tighter. He guided it all the way up to his lips, planting a quick kiss on the back of Gin’s hand.
Gin opened his mouth but said nothing. A heartbeat later, a knowing smile crept back to his face.
Just like a snake slithering into a bed, Gin had slipped into Aizen’s life and made himself a nest there.
He would sink his fangs into that flesh one day.
But for now, why not coil around this illusory warmth while waiting for the perfect moment?
You would think I had said all that could be said about this topic, but I continue to see bad takes or at least characterizations of Hinamori that I disagree with.
The people who say she is useless or weak or a simp are just wrong.
But the people who are defending her by saying she was (clutching pearls) MANIPULATED! She was an innocent child who was GROOMED (gasp)!!
I mean, kind of…but I think that is a very simplistic take that reduces her to a “poor little thing” or a “pure and innocent child,” and I don’t like that either.
While it’s true Momo first met Aizen while she was in the academy, other than the pat on the head, we don’t really see Aizen do anything to her. She fixates on him as the ideal, but by the time she’s his lieutenant, she is an adult (as are Renji and Kira). She was idealistic and enamored, and we can assume Aizen used that to gain her trust and hide his real intentions…but it’s still not super clear to me what Aizen himself is to gain from that other than cover for his grand plans.
If anything, he is testing Momo, as Renji and Kira were tested, to see if they would have the strength and courage to rebel against a corrupt society, seizing their own power and evolving into something more.
Aizen saw potential for evolution in all three, and he used his, albeit cruel, methods to encourage that. He wasn’t just messing with them for kicks and giggles, though that’s often how it’s interpreted.
More to the point though, I think Momo had some degree of power over Aizen. She makes him react. She clearly got under his skin, and even though she could not measure up to his standards for companionship, she seems to have caused some level of attachment.
I’ll admit I am biased because there is nothing I like better than a story where the seemingly weak or nondescript girl wields some kind of emotional power over an invincible man. It’s a common enough trope, and I think Momo and Aizen fit in this trope.
He did deceive her, but she wiggled her way into his heart in some kind of way.
