A/N: Welcome to my attempt to write fanfiction. I don't actually like Bleach; I find it to be a cliché story with a bunch of cliché characters. And it never ends. But I like Gin. A lot, actually. And I like Sakura. So I decided to stuff them together in a story and see whether or not they kill each other.

An Hour's Awakening

The errant storm does not ask many questions
at life's crossroad.
It's ultimately you who has to answer
for yourself.

-Betti Alver, Stellar Hour

Ichimaru Gin wasn't a particularly noble man. Given that he had betrayed the Gotei 13 to follow Aizen into Hueco Mundo did not say much about his character. On the bright side, at least he had done it for a suitably decent cause. It had all been for Rangiku.

She just hadn't known it.

He didn't open his eyes quite yet. He wasn't sure it was a wise choice given that he was supposed to be dead. Was he in hell? Was he now to repent for his crimes for the rest of eternity? Eternity was a long damn time and he didn't relish the thought.

But as his senses became more aware, Gin realized that, well, quite frankly, it didn't sound like he was in hell.

He opened his eyes, allowing the light to pass through them. They glittered in confusion, mirroring a sky on a cloudless day as they roamed over his surroundings. Nope, he decided, it didn't look like hell either.

So where was he?

The forest was dense, but filled with life. After living so long in Hueco Mundo, it was almost welcoming. There had been nothing but a void. Life, but life only after it had already died. But here…here it was different, he observed. Calls of birds ricocheted through the canopy of trees in an endless song; a stream trickled nearby, bubbling as it crawled over rocks and sand, carving a path towards some greater body of water.

The air was different as well, he realized. Though not like Soul Society, where it was heavily laden with spirit particles. Or like Hueco Mundo, where the endlessness seemed to have stopped all motion, all forms of true time. Here it was alive. Almost like the world of the living—the world of humanity.

That, he found, was a promising observation. But if that was the case, how did he come to be here?

He thought back, remembering Rangiku's tears, remembering her voice as it called to him, begging him not to die.

Aizen… Aizen had killed him. Gin's plan had failed—the coup he had planned from the very beginning, since his childhood when he had found Rangiku lying hurt and beaten on the forest floor. He had promised to protect her from pain—to ensure she never had to cry again. But that had all gone to hell and back. If anything, he was the cause of all of her tears.

It came back to him now. Turning on Aizen, his mind made up. He didn't know if he would survive it, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Aizen had never known the true power of his bankai; surprise could be a valid ally, and though Aizen might have been aware of Gin's secret plot, he wasn't aware of just how Gin had planned to execute it.

But despite some amount of careful planning, things had gone awry. Aizen was too powerful; the hougyoku had become a catalyst for something unimaginable. And it hadn't helped that Aizen had held the trump card. There were things that apparently Gin hadn't known either.

First he'd lost his right arm, then his life. Once Aizen's zanpakutou slashed him from collarbone to hip, severing through all the important vitals like a butter knife, he didn't stand a chance. Death was a shocking feeling; at first it was painful, emotional. Gin didn't outwardly show what he felt, but at that point, the seriousness of death had knocked the smirk off his face and opened his eyes. It was all over, he had realized at some point, and surprisingly, he had felt real regret. What had he accomplished?

Nothing. Nothing but a severed arm and wounded pride. And death.

Speaking of arms, he'd completely forgotten about his. He wasn't in any pain, and therefore the state of his body was relatively unimportant. He wouldn't have been entirely surprised to look down and find that he didn't even have one anymore. He felt numb, weightless.

Hazarding a glance, he tilted his head slightly to get a better view and to see the damage of his body—assuming he still had one; the sound of movement buzzed in his ears and it took some effort to move at all.

"Th' hell?" He cursed aloud in surprise.

He looked like a mummy. At least the upper half did.

His torso was plastered with bandages that extended from his waistline to his neck, then onwards to his arm. It was tempting to move it—or what he thought should be his arm—but he figured that the bandages were probably there for good cause. Judging by their bulk, however, the severed appendage was reattached as it should be.

Well, clearly he hadn't made the injury up. That bit was comforting. Sanity and Gin weren't particularly close friends, but at least he had some notion of reality. So was he dreaming then? Hallucinating?

He closed his eyes again, deciding that it didn't matter either way. Wherever he was, it wasn't Soul Society or Karakura Town, or even Hueco Mundo. It was peaceful, so very peaceful. The birds, the trees, the mere weightlessness of feeling nothing. Though he still thought of Rangiku, she seemed more distant now; she was beyond a horizon that he could not quite reach—a veil he couldn't lift. But that, in truth, was nothing new. She had always been just out of grasp. Even though next to him all the while, through some parts of childhood and the Shinigami Academy, he had never been able to break through that barrier. He had always reached out to her, but never openly, never without reserves. He just didn't know how to live that way.

And so he had chosen this path. It suited him best. Gin could not stand at her side, knowing the culprit who had caused her pain in the past, and do nothing about it. He allowed her to believe that he had betrayed her, and it had made it that much easier to cut his ties in the end. To say farewell.

Or so that was his intention, anyway. He had wanted to protect her from afar—because he didn't know how to close the gap. Even Shinsou, his zanpakutou was like that, in a way. Always at a distance.

Thoughts continued to circulate through his head, but they were like leaves drifting on a river. Going forward with no particular destination, no particular goal. He was merely musing and remembering, but in his current state nothing was concrete, nothing was real enough to anchor him down.

So this is peace?

And finally, that mental drifting quieted and he descended effortlessly into oblivion, into a darkness that held no answer and no expectations, and in a lingering thought, he almost hoped that he never woke again.

Sakura knelt next to her patient, regarding him with a critical eye. Breathing is normal. Pulse is stronger than date of discovery. She placed a hand gently on his chest, closing her eyes. The tissue was still weak, but there was no longer any internal bleeding, and all of his organs were beginning to work properly. Vitals are healing nicely.

"Good!" She opened her eyes, feeling overwhelmed with relief.

The silver haired man slept on peacefully, unaware of her silent prodding. The pain medication was working wonders, and with luck, he might sleep on for quite some time.

His arm was next. After carefully inspecting the healing process with her chakra, scanning for any harmful bacteria that might cause infection, she deemed it safe enough to unwrap the bandages.

The arm was a sickly yellow color where Sakura had used sutures to connect the skin tissue. The tear—or cut—had gone straight through the bone, but after a long, arduous night of emergency surgery, she had managed to reconnect the ligaments. Then she'd had the tedious process of encouraging and strengthening the muscle tissues to unify at the point of amputation, using her chakra to heal the damage along the way. The hardest part, however, had been a battle with the nerve endings. Because of their minuteness, it was difficult to find all the damage.

Regardless, at the end of it all, she knew she had done what she could, though whether he would ever regain full use of his arm remained a rather tentative outcome.

After applying a topical anesthetic to his wounds and rewrapping them with fresh linen, she sat back, relieved. Without thinking, she removed the tie from her pink hair, allowing it to fall down to her shoulders. It felt much cleaner since her recent bath in the stream. At one point in her life, she might have complained about the constant state of her hygiene, but she was older now. Wiser, in a sense. And she didn't always have the luxury of a good bath.

Rarely did, in fact.

Not since the nations had fallen into the Fourth Great Shinobi World War. And not since she had joined the Twelve Guardian Ninja.

Sakura frowned, verdant eyes narrowing in quiet reflection.

The war was a strange one, unlike its predecessors. Of course, it had all the things associated with war: betrayal, blood, loss. But it was also unique in that it wasn't between the five kages. It was, this time, against the lesser nations—those who had fallen prey to the promises of Uchiha Madara. It might have been easier to crush, like crushing a rebellion, but Konoha was severely weakened. Everyone had had something taken from them by the Akatsuki, and ultimately, by Madara.

She thought of Konoha and wondered, vaguely, how her friends were doing. Though they crossed paths occasionally, it was usually on the battlefield where they were working to defend the Land of Fire's borders. There wasn't usually time for conversation. It left her feeling slightly outcasted, slightly alone.

But, that was of her own choice.

At first, she had declined the offer to join the entourage of the Fire Lord, but after Pain destroyed Konoha and she failed to kill Sasuke, she realized that she had to do something. Something of her own accord. Something to prove that she could take matters into her own hands and bring about change.

After all, Naruto had always been noted for his charisma—his abilities to forcibly alter the path of fate. But each time Sakura tried to follow his example, it only seemed to fall to pieces; she became the thing in need of rescuing.

She was sick of being rescued.

Nara Shikamaru had been offered a position as well, before the war began, but he had politely declined. His strategic abilities and ingenuity had earned him a wide-ranging reputation, but something about Konoha pulled at him. It had demanded that he stay.

So she went in his stead.

On some days, she felt a twinge of honest guilt. She was one of Konoha's best medical-nin, having trained under the Hokage herself. But there were people who needed help everywhere, and just because she left Konoha didn't mean that she became any less busy.

At first, upon her arrival to the fortress of the Fire Daimyo, she had been among his personal guard. To prove her worth, she had worked long hours in the hospital, utilizing the extent of her healing skills for the citizens of the Fire Country. After a time, he took personal notice of her, and when a position became available, he promoted her to one of his elite guardians. One of the Twelve.

But there were days, days when she was alone, where she longed for Team 7, for the Rookie 9, and for home. It had been two years since she had confronted Sasuke, two years since he and Naruto fought…

Get a grip Sakura! she scolded herself. You wanted this! Besides, things aren't the same anymore…things will—

Her thoughts were interrupted when her patient suddenly stirred. In her day-dreaming she had almost forgotten that he was there.

"You're awake?" she asked cautiously.

Gin had a headache.

And he wasn't in a painless stupor anymore either. Yep, he thought, blinking slowly, the pain was most definitely real this time.

"Rangiku…" he murmured, wondering if the presence next to him was the woman he had dedicated some part of his life to avenging.

As his vision cleared, he caught side of pink hair and the contours of a woman's face. Yachiru? An image of the small Shinigami entered his mind—her playful appearance, petite stature, and otherwise child-like attitude.

Nope. He realized his mistake almost immediately. Definitely not.

He heard words, but they were fuzzy, almost incoherent. "Huh?"

"Are you awake?" the young woman asked again, reaching out to touch his forehead. "You aren't feverish. Do you understand me?"

Gin moved to sit up, coming to a form of painful coherence much quicker than was necessary. His head spun, but he pretended not to notice, and instead worked to focus on his rescuer. Her expression held a bit of worry, as well as wary scrutiny, as she supported him. Her eyes, a surprisingly bright green for a human, regarded him patiently, as if observing him for the first time.

"Yeah," he replied with only a hint of his usual sarcasm. "It seems so."

Sakura sighed, "You aren't ready to move yet."

Gin didn't say anything right away; he was taking in the entirety of his situation, the implausibility of it all. With a little effort, he resumed his normal appearance, narrowing his eyes into their fox-like squints and allowing his mouth to fall into a mocking, grim smile. "I'm assumin' this ain't Soul Society?"

"Soul Society?" Sakura questioned, a bit startled by the shifting in his nature. There weren't many words to describe the look he gave her, but unnerving was definitely one of them. It was like a snake staring down his prey right before closing its jaws over it. A snake, she acknowledged, like Orochimaru.

Her questioning response was answer enough. No this wasn't Soul Society. So if this wasn't Soul Society, it had to be Earth. Right? The girl certainly seemed human, though the fact that she had healed him so proficiently caused him to question her reiatsu. But that was a question for another time. He still needed to find his bearings, to learn just where this strange death had led him. "You're a human then?"

Sakura bit her lip to silence her retort. Wasn't she supposed to be the one asking the questions here? After all, she had saved him; she had pulled an all-nighter trying to rescue his arm, expending every bit of her chakra for the procedure, and this was how he thanked her? Questioning her humanity?

"Of course I'm human, idiot!" She had to work to keep her temper in check, but Sakura had never been good at controlling it once it flared. "Monsters don't heal strangers found nearly-dead on the forest floor!"

It occurred to Gin that she had misinterpreted his question. "I didn't mean to make ya mad." He held up his hands in defeat and then mused, "This is gonna be a problem."

"A problem?" Sakura relented and her temper abated a bit; his response confused her. "Who are you?"

"Oh? Ya want my name?" The creases of his fake smile lengthened and Sakura almost shuddered in disgust. "It's Ichimaru Gin."

He didn't bother to ask for hers, and she was slightly insulted. Fine! She thought irritably, I just won't tell him. In her anger, something else occurred to her. He had mentioned a woman's name before coming to full consciousness. "Who's Rangiku?"

Gin's smile faded, but he recovered before he could become too uncomfortable. He shrugged, "No one ya'd know."

"Well then," Sakura struggled to maintain her cool, "why are you here?"

Remarkably, Gin had been wondering the exact same thing, and he wasn't entirely sure how to go about the answer. "I dunno," he contemplated, allowing the mockery to leave his features for a brief moment. "This ain't the place where I died."

Sakura brought her palm to her forehead in exasperation. Was he mad? "That's because you didn't die."

"But I did!" Gin argued matter-of-factly. He had said his farewell to Rangiku, and then? And then Ichigo had arrived. Gin had then trusted Aizen's demise to the look in the human Shinigami's eyes—the look of calculated destruction—and released himself to death's call.

Only to awaken here… alive.

He couldn't explain that to this human girl though. She already believed him to be incompetent. Or crazy.

"Forget it," Sakura grumbled, tired of the ineptitude with which she was handling her patient. "You need to rest."

Was she going to learn anything useful about this guy? She could imagine it all now. Returning to the Fire Lord—late no less than her intended arrival date—and explaining everything she had learned after scouting. Yes, Fire Daimyo-sama, I healed a strange man along the border route, but I didn't learn a thing about him.

What if he was an enemy? Or what if he simply couldn't remember where he was because he was a discarded spy? She couldn't just leave him here. I'll take him back and leave him to the interrogation unit. Let them play his little games. She wanted none of it.

She fumbled for her medical bag and began to fill a syringe as Gin watched with mild interest. "What's that for?"

"Sleeping," she replied curtly, her concentration on the task at hand. When the dose was measured to perfection, Sakura closed the vial, and pressed him back down against the cushion of forest leaves. He didn't argue; sitting up had been a bit taxing and he was admittedly fatigued. Besides, her no-nonsense look wasn't something he particularly cared to challenge.

The sting of the needle entering flesh quickly faded and the medication began to take effect almost immediately. This woman's skills were definitely first-rate, and in his half-stupor, he found himself admiring them.

"We'll talk more when you wake up," she told him, already dreading that conversation.

"Whatchyur name?" he managed to ask through closing lids, realizing that he hadn't learned it yet. The medication was a lull, it beckoned to him like a woman's song, clear and resolute in its determination, but he fought it for a moment longer. Long enough to hear her answer.

An answer that sounded all the worlds away.

"Haruno Sakura."

She watched sleep steal away his fake grin, replacing it with something that almost looked pitiable, almost human.

She sighed.

It was going to be a very long day.