Hi, everyone! Somehow I made it…August 12th, Yusa Kouji-san's birthday! For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, that's Ichimaru Gin's Japanese voice actor. I think he's the best voice actor to ever walk the face of earth. But that's just me. Ehehe.

This fanfiction is my baby. It's taken me quite a while to crank it out. It's my own personal closure for the abrupt way that my favorite pairing, not to mention my favorite anime character of all time, was so suddenly killed. Just like that! It was completely unacceptable to me, so I wrote this, and I hope that it may help others like me to somehow live with the way the plot unraveled.

Anyway, that's the end of my dramatic rant. This story will be divided into multiple parts. The end of each part can be taken as the ending of the entire story, so if you'd like, you can stop without reading to the end and not feel as if the story's incomplete (or at least, I hope it'll be like that for you). And, well, if you can't help but to keep going, please do! :D I'm really looking forward to what everyone has to say, so if possible, a review would be very, very nice as well.

Note: I exclusively watch the Japanese version of the anime and the way I write Bleach fanfiction probably completely adheres to that, so here are some terms that might not have carried over to the English dub:

taichou: captain

fukutaichou: lieutenant

soutaichou: Captain-Commander

shinigami: Death God

Seireitei: Court of Pure Souls

futon: a type of Japanese on-the-floor bed

kidou: demon magic

shouji door: door made of a frame of wood/bamboo and translucent paper

…I think that's all. I tried to stick as closely to English as I could without letting any unneeded Japanese pop out. ^3^

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, only this plot. This goes for the rest of the story parts, too.

P.S. I would suggest paying attention to the dates. And I apologize for the humongous author's note. x.x

Story of a Lifetime - Part I

October 11th

The shining, silver sword sliced through him like knife through butter, another body to add to Aizen's pile of sacrifices. Just another person thrown away without hesitation, a used tissue he was, this cunning boy-turned-man that had been his right-hand man for a century.

She woke with a start, eyes wide and chest heaving.

Gin.

Reiatsu burst out in a sudden explosion from his body, as if the death slash had released everything he'd kept bottled inside. It twisted and writhed, and then the dance was over as soon as it had begun. Remnants of energy swept through the battlefield, only thin wisps caressing her upturned face. Her fingers twitched in response to the nostalgic warmth.

Gin.

She was at his side before she realized she'd moved, her body crouched over him, protective and heartbroken. Blood dripped down his chin. She could only stare in shock. It was his blood this time that soaked his white clothes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen blood that belonged to him on his clothes, and she knew at that very moment, watching the droplets dye the ground—even with all the courage and ruthlessness and determination and fury she could muster, crushed into a ball of hard emotion that became her—she would have never been able to strike him. Meeting here as two opposite people on two opposite sides of the war, she still mourned the spilling of his blood.

Sobs rose in her lungs and she didn't resist, the tears thick, salty, sad as they trailed over her lips. They fell on his face and the only thing she could see then was how he'd never changed at all. She should have seen it. By God, if only her in this entire world, she should have seen it. It was always, always about him.

He was beautiful. Those high cheekbones, the line of his jaw, the smoothness of his skin, and the peaceful look on his face as he lay unconscious. His lashes, dark against his face, didn't flutter, and she cried. His reiatsu was empty and dimming, a feeling that made her gasp out in short, uncontrollable breaths, reaching for him, trying to catch him, save him.

A million images flashed across her mind.

Gin, the little boy that had offered her food, she who had been dying, and a complete stranger.

Gin, launching sharp stones at the angry villagers chasing them, shouting back at her to run.

Gin on her birthday, grinning, a delicately-wrapped parcel in his hands.

Gin, and the pride radiating from him as he showed her his newly planted trees.

Gin, the grief-stricken look on his face when he told her goodbye.

Distant steps echoed from behind her. She didn't care. Aizen could take anything he wanted from her. He could rip her limb from limb; he could possess her mind with Kyouka Suigetsu. But she would never, never allow him to erase the warm energy that she'd been yearning for these last three months. Familiar, fleeting. Fading.

A thunderous crash shook the ground from behind her. She was jolted her from her half-crazed thoughts, turning her head slowly, stunned to find Ichigo standing there. Her arms trembled under her weight. The clogs in her mind turned, worked, while her frantic heart could only foolishly beat.

Sorrow began to make way for an insane flicker of hope. Kurosaki Ichigo didn't have to win the war, her mind frantically supplied. She didn't even care if they won anymore. But if he could distract Aizen just enough—just enough for her to take off, maybe...maybe...!

Her lips trembled as she made eye contact with the substitute shinigami. He understood. I don't need you to tell me that, his eyes told her, and thirty seconds later, two people were missing from the battlefield.

Red rivulets seeped from her lip where she'd bitten through. Dampness was soaking through her uniform, the metallic smell making her lose her footing for a second as she swayed. She could only bite harder through her lip and continue on her way, shunpo steps faster than they'd ever been in her life.

Please. Please let me be on time. Please, please, please. She could barely feel the beating of his heart anymore, even pressed so close to her back. She tried to force some of her own reiatsu into his body, as if it might halt his path down the final tunnel, his name a whispered mantra in her mind.

Rooftop after tiled rooftop, she raced through Seireitei. When the Fourth Squad barracks drifted into view, she ran faster. Some of the higher-ranked shinigami streamed out from the front entrance, sensing her approach, and saw her stumble on an uneven tile before dropping to a clumsy stop on her knees in front of the gate.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou!" She wheezed for breath, unable to force her heavy tongue to form words.

"Wh-What's happening?" The surrounding crowd gathered warily, and there was a collective gasp of recognition at the body sprawled across her back. "The traitor Ichimaru G—"

"Take him in," she whispered harshly, cutting them off. The blood was soaking through her clothes. She could feel it, wet and warm. It was trickling all around her like rain, wet and warm. Hurry.

Silence. "B-But—"

"Are you going to disobey a fukutaichou's orders? I said to take him in!" Her head was so heavy she couldn't look past the half-dozen sandaled feet around her, frozen in shock. "Give him everything you've got," she gritted out. "Save him."

And then everything was black.

When she opened her eyes, all she could see was a blurry, brown ceiling. She blinked and the lines of the wood became clear, and then she noticed a soft yellow light surrounding her. Three people were crowded around her futon. The girl on her right side gave her a small smile. "Don't worry, Matsumoto-fukutaichou. You'll be fine soon." Matsumoto's brow scrunched up in confusion, but when she turned her head and saw through the gap of multiple bodies a pale form lying on the futon next to hers, it all came rushing back. She sat up abruptly.

"I don't need help. I'm fine. Put everything you have into him."

"B—"

"Just do it, please." The three shinigami shuffled over to him, adding their hands and energy to make him glow brighter. She knew she was being unreasonable. Wounds took time to heal, not just lots of kidou energy. But she was beyond being reasonable by now.

Her eyes wandered over his face. There were black shadows under his eyes. How long have they been there, she wondered. How deep was the ocean of her own problems, how dense the salt water, that she hadn't even seen that something was off, that everything was wrong? Her eyes trailed down and she choked back another sudden sob that welled up in her, rapidly blinking away tears. With his white coat off, she could see the stump where his arm had been ripped off. There was a large gash ripping from his left shoulder to his right hip, and a hole torn through his body, an inch from his heart. The blood had been staunched, but the wounds weren't closing.

Blackness began crawling out from her chest, slowly eating her alive. He wouldn't be saved, at this rate. There was nothing more she could do. She allowed her hair to sweep over her face, blocking the dying image of him from her mind.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou? Are you all right?"

The woman looked up, raw for a quick second before she composed herself. "Yes, I'm fine. Let me help, too."

Her joints ached from moving around so much immediately after her critical wounds had been healed. Half a foot from his bedding, she dropped to a squat. Her muscles protested and she sighed in surrender before falling back on her bottom, knees drawn up to her chest. A hand touched the white cloth on his forehead, then recoiled twice as fast. She moved to stand again, but a voice from the doorway stopped her.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou, won't you please stop moving?" A girl that had been healing her pleaded. "Your physical wounds might be pretty much closed up, but you should still rest."

Matsumoto sighed again. "I can't sleep like this."

"How about telling me want you want, then? I can get it for you." The girl blinked when she saw the cloth on the ex-taichou's forehead. "Ah, you got the cloth?"

"You know, you should go get some rest, too. You've all been at it for the past four hours. The least I could do was to wrap bandages around his wound and get a cloth for his fever."

"No, no. This is our duty. We're used to it." She paused. "Well, the others are resting now. On second thought, I think I'll go join them. I'll bring you a basin of cold water first, though."

"Thanks." She came back with a wooden bowl two feet across and at least four inches deep, filled to the brim. "This should be enough to last the night," she grinned, and Matsumoto almost smiled. "Yeah. Thanks for your help. Go on now, get your rest."

"Good night, Matsumoto-fukutaichou." The shouji door slid quietly shut.

A cool breeze wafted in from the window. Matsumoto stood up to close it, but she ended up gazing outside, past Seireitei and into rolling green hills shadowed by the orange, setting sun. She'd forgotten that the sun set earlier in October. An autumn leaf blew past her and she allowed herself to briefly enjoy the scent of the season, before shaking herself from the daydream. This was no time to be enjoying nature. She had run back here like a coward while all her friends were out fighting to the death. Still, no matter how she tried to convince herself, nothing could force her away from Gin right now. With a third sigh and a sweep of her hand, the sun disappeared from view.

She padded over back to his side, taking the cloth from his forehead and dunking it generously into the fresh water. Brushing back silver strands that had fallen to cover his eyes, she replaced the cloth and sat back. Her gaze trailed over him for a moment and she leaned over, grabbing a nearby comforter and tucking it close to his chin, covering those bandages. Tiny puffs of warm air touched her cheek when she bent over him and she was suddenly thrown back into her memories.

Over a century ago: December 12th

She doubled over in dry, hacking coughs that made her lungs ache. Her eyes watered with the intensity and she threw her covers back in an attempt to cool down. Groaning at the wave of dizziness that hit her, the little girl struggled to remain in a seated position.

"Rangiku?"

She sniffed miserably. She should find some sort of board to cover up the entrance. With only a thin mat made of sticks that barely brushed the ground, cold wind was always sneaking in.

"Ran-chan?"

Great. Now she had voices in her head. Shut up already, she had enough to worry about.

"Oi, Rangiku!"

...Huh?

The girl turned to the door a little too quickly and immediately regretted it when the pounding returned with a vengeance. Her head fell in her hands and she moaned in frustration.

Hasty steps made their way to her, then a raspy sound of wood meeting wood. She peeked an eye open. "Rangiku, what's wrong? Yer sick?" A cold hand touched her forehead.

"G-G-Gin?"

"One an' only." She drank in the sight of him, his plum-colored yukata, silver hair that almost glittered from the moonlight outside. He was kneeling close to her, a basket of dried persimmons next to him. Look at him fit in, a tiny voice in her mind whispered bitterly, as if he'd always been there. The way she'd wanted him to be. Involuntarily, tears welled up in her eyes, poured down her face. His eyes widened and she choked with a giddy laugh-sob—ah, it was that bright, blue-green gaze she'd been needing for the last month.

He only continued to watch her with surprise and a touch of panic. "Rangiku, somethin' wrong?"

The laugh cut itself off, gone in a spark, washed away by a stream of anger and loneliness that trickled into a vast ocean. Drip. Drip. Her brow scrunched up and she turned from him, arms crossed over her chest. Coughs rose again, but she stubbornly kept her lips sealed, little body trembling with the effort.

"Ignorin' me?"

She stared at the floor. "Don't talk to me, stupid."

"Stupid?"

"That's right. Stupid."

"..."

"I hate you." Her jaw was set with resolution.

"...Ouch. Never thought I'd hear Ran-chan of all people say that to me." Her eyes narrowed. The little stream widened into a river, now black with fear, too. If you don't stop yourself, he might leave for good. She shook her head to clear the unwanted thoughts. It didn't matter. He'd eventually leave for good one day. Why shouldn't she use this chance to tell him everything she's always wanted to? Why did she have to be the chaser?

The girl turned to glare at him, tears drying on her face. But the blue-greens were gone already, and she couldn't read him. "That's right. I hate you," she hissed, drowning in her black, black ocean. "You left me without a single word. And in this cold winter, too, when you know exactly how I…how I…" her voice drifted off, but returned in a determined shout. "I hate you! You abandoned me and I finally accepted that! Why did you come back? Who the hell do you think you are?"

He didn't say anything.

The tears restarted, sinking into her sheets, and she pressed a hand hard to her mouth. She wouldn't let him see any more of her weakness. She wouldn't let him hear her cry, the way she'd done that morning long ago when she'd first woken up to find the shack empty of the only person she'd ever cared for.

"I'm sorry, Rangiku," he whispered, tentatively reaching for the hand covering her mouth.

"Don't touch me!" She slapped his hand away, ignoring the hurt look on his face. "You don't know what it feels like, thinking every night before you go to sleep, 'Ah, this might be the last time I see him. I might wake up tomorrow, and he won't be there.'" Her voice was loud as she yelled through building sobs. "'And then he might never come back again.' Do you understand what that's like?" But he only sat there. Silent.

She gave up. Her hand fell from her mouth and she let out deep, heaving sobs, crying out into the night.

She was pathetic. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd left. Why now? She was so pathetic. So dependent. Pathetic.

There was a distressed look on his face, and several times his hands twitched as if he wanted to reach for her, but they always settled back into fists on his lap. She cried and cried for what seemed like forever.

Then suddenly, the sobs cut off. She gasped for breath in short inhalations, almost hyperventilating. A second later, Gin's eyes were wide again, and he finally pulled on her hands. "Rangiku, calm down! Ya got a nosebleed!" Touching his sleeve gingerly to her nose, he coaxed, "Deep breaths. C'mon, take in deep breaths." She hiccupped once, twice, three more times. A cool hand on her back guided her to sit up straight.

Her eyelids slid closed. Then opened again. Repeated the cycle, miserably. His hand soothed her back gently, and her breathing began to even out.

"I'm real sorry, Ran-chan. But I can't tell ya where I go off every time. Not yet, anyway."

She didn't reply. Two minutes later, he pulled his sleeve away, and by the relieved look on his face, the blood had stopped. His other hand tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then dropped to his lap. His gaze swept over her, taking in her sweat-damp locks and dull blue eyes. "Yer really sick."

She glared to the side. A pale hand appeared in her face.

"Eat up. Ya need th'energy."

"I don't need it," she said bitterly, pushing it away.

"C'mon, Rangiku, just eat it. I got 'em 'specially for ya."

She sneered. "Don't throw your smooth lines at me. You're the one that likes dried persimmons."

"Well, yeah, I like 'em, but I didn't get 'em for me, I got 'em for Ran-chan. 'Cause ya said ya like 'em, too." The hand edged closer to her mouth. She let out a long breath through her nose, then bit into the fruit obligingly. A grin, one she was so familiar with, spread on his face. "Good girl."

She chewed quietly for the next couple of moments, him feeding her when she swallowed. "Gin?"

"Hm?"

"When are you going to stop leaving?"

He stilled for a moment, the smile wiped from his face. "'Till ya don't have to cry anymore."

"What d—" Arms suddenly wrapped around her, soft hair and warm breath brushing her cheek.

"'Sides, I always come back, don't I?" Her nose stinging again, the little girl hugged the boy back tightly, fingers curling around the fabric at his back.

"Yeah."

Present day

Matsumoto pulled back and blinked. Hints of boyish features still retained in his now slightly more angular, older face, she noted that he really, really hadn't changed at all.

She watched his chest rise and drop for the next hour or so, parted lips softly drawing in breaths. His forehead-cooler was changed at least three more times, but otherwise, she didn't move, seated there cross-legged like his guardian. The room darkened with the sky until she was forced to light a candle. The flame cast shadows over his hands, his cheeks. Asleep, he was so peaceful, the sinister aura entirely gone.

She sat there for a little while more, then peeked under the corner of his covers to check the bandages. No hint of blood. Her lips pursed when a wayward thought nagged at the back of her mind.

Why had Aizen betrayed Gin?

After another half-hour of running over possibilities, she still didn't have anything she really wanted to believe, and so she settled for simply being there for him—the way he'd been there for her when she was sick, hands running through her hair until she'd fallen asleep.

October 13th

Matsumoto woke again in a haze of confusion; she didn't remember falling asleep or moving to her futon. The room was almost completely enshrouded in darkness; only a single beam of moonlight shining from the open window illuminated a spot on the floor. She looked to the right.

Gin was lying there, still, for once in his life. So still that she felt a hint of apprehension. A translucent barrier of kidou boxed him in, his comforter still firmly tucked under his chin. She sat up and padded quietly over to him. Settling on the floor where she'd by now claimed as her spot, she reached her hands through the barrier to warm his palm. His chest rose slowly, sank slowly.

It was so quiet. She couldn't even hear him breathing.

"Oh!" Matsumoto turned to the door to see the same brown-haired girl that had helped her earlier. "Matsumoto-fukutaichou! You're finally awake!" She hurried over, a damp towel draped over her forearm, relief evident in her eyes.

"Hello. How long was I out?"

"It's been around two days."

"What?"

"Yes. It was a long two days." Bags were clear under the eyes of this young girl too, and a sudden surge of fury rose in Matsumoto. Aizen…Aizen did all this. And for what? He wished to be God, but God was never number one in anyone's heart.

Her eyes widened at the thought. "Aizen! What happened to Aizen? It's been two days; the battle can't still be going on!"

"It seems that the substitute shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo defeated Aizen Sousuke. His sentence is being determined at this moment. I believe that his trial will take place in around a week." Matsumoto's shoulders slumped. A small burden was lifted from her shoulders. She supposed she should have been jumping with joy, but the majority of the weight wouldn't budge. She couldn't jump yet. "Some people tried to come see you, but I stopped them because I was afraid of infection. Oh, and um, Kurosaki Ichigo-san and his friends are here in Soul Society right now. If you'd like to go visit them, I can keep watch on Ichimaru-taichou for you, Matsumoto-fukutaichou."

"No." Her expression didn't change, but she felt a twinge of dark amusement. 'Ichimaru-taichou', huh? "No, I'm fine here."

"Oh. Okay then. Is there anything else I can do for you? I could bring you a late dinner."

"No, I'm not hungry. But thanks. So...how is he?"

"Well, we've managed to put a somewhat permanent stop to the bleeding. That was a miracle in itself. But his wounds..." She drifted off.

"What?"

"W-We don't know what's going to happen now. If the gash in his torso and the stab wound by his heart don't close up soon, I don't think...I mean, the arm was already bad enough, but we do have quite a bit of experience in dealing with limb losses. It's just the gash and the hole we're more worried about now, because they're quite fatal. Almost all of his vital organs have been pierced. We're not even really sure how his heart is still pumping." Matsumoto interlaced her fingers, but the shaking wouldn't stop.

"I see..."

"To be completely honest..." the girl paused and bit her lip.

"What is it?"

Her gaze flashed upwards at the fukutaichou. "Um, we don't think...Ichimaru-taichou probably...well, of course, nothing's set in stone, it's just that—"

Matsumoto sighed. "Just tell me already."

"To put it bluntly, we don't think he's going to make it."

Her heart stopped for a nanosecond, a millisecond, a second, two seconds. Then it sputtered back to life, the pumps and rivers of adrenaline deafening in her ears. If only she could give this deafening sound to him...But no, she berated herself. No need to be dramatic. She'd known. She'd known it the second she'd seen, that he probably wouldn't...

"He's surviving right now due to some kind of odd miracle, but his heart can stop any second now. The two days it's lasted has already set a record. We...we...I-I'm sorry, Matsumoto-fukutaichou."

The words ran through her mind, over and over again, like a nightmare that couldn't end. 'It's deep', she'd said. 'Not sure how his heart is still pumping', 'limb losses', 'defeated Aizen Sousuke', 'Kurosaki Ichigo-san and his friends are here in Soul Society'...

She froze.

'Kurosaki Ichigo-san and his friends are here in Soul Society.'

Ichigo was here.

Ichigo's friends were here.

In Soul Society.

The thumping in her ears got even louder and she whirled towards the girl. "Wait, you said that Ichigo's friends are here right now?"

She blinked solemnly up at Matsumoto. "Um, yes."

"Do...Do you know if a girl named Inoue Orihime is with them? Long, bright orange hair?"

"Why yes, I believe so."

Matsumoto leapt up. "Where? Where are they?"

"I believe they're in the Kuchiki mansion at the mo—" A flutter of strawberry blond hair, and the girl was talking to thin air.

"Orihime? Orihime-chan! Are you there?"

"M-Matsumoto-fukutaichou!" Two guards grabbed her arms just as she was about to pass through the threshold into the Kuchiki garden. "You do understand that it's past midnight already?" one of them whispered urgently to her.

"Please, just come back in the morning! Kuchiki-sama will welcome you then!" the other insisted.

"Let go of me," she hissed. "You think I would come here just for fun, at this hour? This is urgent news! A man's life is at stake here!"

"W-Well—"

"If you do not let go right this instant," she glared at them through gritted teeth, "I will get by with force." They stared in trepidation at the normally cheerful woman, their holds loosening for just a second, but it was enough. She gave one hard tug, and with a flash of shunpo, was two rooftops into the estate. She flew directly towards the presence she'd grown used to during her stay in the Living World and threw back the shouji door with a loud clack. "Orihime-chan!"

The girl rolled on to her side. "...Hnn?"

"Orihime, I need you to wake up right now!" She shook Orihime's shoulders. Her cold hands shocked a bit of wakefulness into the sleeping girl.

"W-Who? R-Rangiku-san?" Her eyes widened. "Rangiku-san! I tried to visit you a while ag—but wait, what are you doing here? What time is it?"

"Listen, Orihime," she took the younger girl's face in her icy hands. The latter yelped, but didn't protest when she saw the look on Matsumoto's face. "I need you to help me heal someone. I don't know if it's doable, but I need you to try anyway. Please, I need you to save him."

Orihime stared at her for just a moment, and then her eyes hardened. "Of course. Take me there, Rangiku-san." Matsumoto squatted down to let the young girl climb on her back and they leapt along the rooftops as fast as the fukutaichou dared to go, finally reaching the Fourth Squad in a remarkable thirteen minutes. They ran all the way to the room Matsumoto had barely left just a half hour ago. Double pairs of eyes widened—the brown-haired girl, sitting next to Gin, looked curiously at the newcomer, while Orihime could only eyeball the man lying on the futon.

"Rangiku-san? This is the person you want me to heal?"

"Yes," she breathed. "I'm sorry, I know, he was one of the ones that imprisoned you in th—"

"It's fine, Rangiku-san," she smiled kindly. "I was just making sure." She kneeled down and put her hand on the kidou box. It disintegrated at her touch and she pulled away the covers. "Souten Kisshun. I reject." A glowing oval of yellow appeared along the length of the ex-taichou's body. Matsumoto stood tensely beside her. "This might take some time, Rangiku-san. Maybe you should get some rest?"

"I've been sleeping for the past two days. I don't think I can sleep anymore."

"Okay then." But despite what she said, when an hour passed and still nothing significant had happened, Matsumoto fell asleep in a stiff, seated position next to Gin.

October 15th

A resounding clap echoed through the room. She'd put all the sadness and hatred and anger she could muster into that one slap. His face was snapped back, cheek already swelling, redness visible even in the faint candlelight.

Silence reigned for a full minute. He was absolutely still, sitting there in his futon, bandages peeking out from under his white under-robe. She stood next to him, chest heaving, fists clenched.

He continued to avoid her gaze. "...Guess I deserved that, eh?"

"You're an asshole," she said disgustedly. "You deserve to die. I never want to see you again. Farewell." She stood up to leave. He didn't try to stop her. "But one last thing, before I leave for good," she muttered, and he still didn't look up. "Tell me why Aizen betrayed you."

There was another long pause before he answered, "'Betray'...is probably th'wrong word." He stared at some spot on the ground, and then as if he'd reached a decision, faced up and met her eyes straight-on. "Yeah. Betray'd be th'wrong word. Since—" his eyelids lifted and she could only stare, "—I was th'one that tried to kill 'im first."

Her eyes narrowed. Her mind raced. She didn't understand.

He had tried to kill Aizen first?

She fell to kneel beside him. "What did you say?" she asked, searching his expression.

He slowly blinked. "I tried to kill 'im. But I failed." A short laugh. "Maybe it wasn't meant t'be me, huh?"

"...I...don't understand. Why would you try to kill him? You went off with him to Hueco Mundo. You betrayed Soul Society, betrayed Kira, betrayed everyone," her voice rose, until she could only shout, "you betrayed me for Aizen Sousuke! Why would you want to kill him?"

A warm hand (so warm, so warm) touched her cheek, and fingers came away wet. She hadn't even realized. "I did it—" he smiled softly, warm like his hands, "—so ya wouldn't have to cry anymore, Rangiku."

Speechless, she watched him, frozen for a long, long moment.

It was those words.

"When are you going to stop leaving?"

He stilled for a second, the smile wiped from his face. "'Till ya don't have to cry anymore."

His hand dropped, and his smile turned sad. The realization slapped her across the face, a million times stronger than any physical blow could be.

"'Till ya don't have to cry anymore."

A drop of wax rolled down the candlestick by his pillow. Finally, she swallowed and placed her hand on his. The stinging in her nose drove more wetness from her tired eyes, and she wept for the misunderstanding. She wept for all the wasted years and all the misery, apologized to all the people he'd ever hurt for her, and apologized for the relief she couldn't contain. Sitting there on the floor, her hand on his, the tears came down without restraint, these blood tears of hers.

"I didn't…I never—" she stuttered through her tears. "I never asked you to do that for me. All I ever wanted was just for you to stop leaving. I-I—" She took a deep breath to stop the constricting of her chest, but it didn't work. "For such a prodigy," she whispered raspily, "you're a fool, Ichimaru Gin." When his hand turned so that their palms could meet, then gave her fingers a squeeze, she knew. They weren't okay yet. Not yet. But they would be, some day.

October 19th

"Former taichou Ichimaru Gin," the voice boomed, a roomful of new Central 46 members looking down at the pair below. "You have wrought a great deal of damage to Soul Society alongside the traitor Aizen Sousuke. For your crimes against the shinigami that you have injured and killed, as well as your treachery, you have been sentenced to imprisonment in the third level of the underground prison, Shugou. You might not have ultimately betrayed Soul Society, but nevertheless, as a part of your plan to destroy Aizen Sousuke, you have committed treason, including participation in the Hollowfication of Hirako Shinji, Ootoribashi Roujuurou, Kuna Mashiro, Aikawa Love, Sarugaki Hiyori, Yadoumaru Lisa, Ushouda Hachigen, and Muguruma Kensei. Such a deed was enough to earn you an eternity in prison."

He only smiled.

"However, due to several testimonies from reliable sources, it has been proved that Aizen Sousuke was indeed your enemy, and that you attempted to kill him. The end does not justify the means, but we cannot ignore the fact that you contributed to Seireitei's war effort against an evil being. We are bound by the King's law that heavy punishment must not be delivered upon any individual that has participated in a war for the sake of Soul Society—this is in accordance to Law Nineteen of Section Five. Hence, we have decided to greatly reduce the time you will spend in prison. Ichimaru Gin, you are hereby sentenced to imprisonment for a full one hundred years."

He watched Matsumoto's fist clench out of the corner of his eye.

"Your zanpakutou will be sealed away until your imprisonment is over. In addition, we will grant you a reasonable favor during the time you will be spending in Shugou. State your favor."

His unperturbed smile twisted into a wide grin, causing some of the Central 46 members to shrink back. "Tha's fine, I don't need any fa—"

"If I may be so inclined," Matsumoto interrupted, looking up at the members grimly. "Would it be possible for him to take visitors during his stay?"

A swarm of whispers buzzed over the group. Then, silence reigned again, and a solitary voice echoed, "If that is to be your favor, then we will allow shinigami of fukutaichou rank or higher to visit Ichimaru Gin."

"I understand. Thank you for your graciousness."

"As for Matsumoto Rangiku, we will pardon you of sentence considering that your efforts saved the life of one that fought for Soul Society, and also because you have demonstrated leadership and courage in your past records. Be grateful of this pardon—the next time you abandon your duty, you will be stripped of your rank."

"I understand," she said, looking at the ground.

October 20th

"Why're you here, Rangiku?" He was sitting cross-legged with his back against the cold stone wall, arms tucked in sleeves.

"Hmm?" She dropped the peels in one basket and the naked oranges in another.

"Ya shouldn't be here, Rangiku," he said, this time quietly.

"I go wherever I want to go, Gin."

"..."

A guard almost walked past but almost tripped over his own feet in front of the bars of the cell. "M-Matsumoto-fukutaichou?" She glanced up from her peeling.

"Yes?"

"Oh! It's nothing," he cleared his throat and straightened his back, then bowed lowly. "It is just that...it is rare to see visitors down here in Shugou. Or on any level, for that case. Please excuse my rudeness."

She smirked at him. "Well, you'd best be getting used to it, then. I'll be coming here a lot." The guard blinked, nodded, bowed a last time, and walked away.

"Rangiku!"

"What?" Her fingers reached for the unpeeled oranges again. He snatched them away from her. "Stop being so childish, Gin!"

"Ran-chan, I don't want ya visitin' me."

"Oh?"

"Ya don't need to be here."

"I told you, I go wherever the hell I please." She lunged for the oranges. He pulled back.

"Stop this already, Rangiku."

"Who are you to tell me where I can or can't go?" She gave up on the oranges and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him. He watched her wordlessly for a moment, then sighed and handed the fruits back to her, but she put them aside.

"I don't want ya wastin' yer time comin' down here to visit me."

"It's not a waste of time."

"Ya could be off doin' yer paperwork for the little chibi-chan, or drinkin' with yer friends, or trainin', or findin' some nice man to settle down with. Not here. Not sittin' here peelin' oranges for a prisoner. Yer not needed here."

"Well, I'm not needed at those places either. So I choose to be here."

His brow furrowed a little. "Don't be so stubborn."

"You know I am. Don't fight me on this, because this is one thing I definitely won't budge on." No, she wouldn't allow him to escape anymore.

"Yer bein' stupid. Do ya realize what this means?" He looked at her intently, eyes open and serious. "I'm gonna be here for another hundred years, Rangiku. I'm a prisoner. A traitor."

She stared back at him, proud and defiant. "Not to me." His lips thinned.

"I'm a traitor," he stated again, his tone heavy.

Her brow furrowed. "Not to me," she repeated. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and turned away from her.

October 21st

The next day, she returned, and he changed tactics.

"Listen to me." To anyone else, he looked uncaring, his muscles all relaxed as he sat there, but she knew better. "A lot can happen in a hundred years. That's an entire century. Don't waste yer time waitin' f—"

"No." She grabbed his wrist to try to get him to pay attention. "You're the one that doesn't understand. We've known each other for how long now, Gin? A hundred fifteen years? A hundred fifty years? I can't quite remember, but I know it's been a long time, and I know that a century is long. Yet you've devoted all that time to avenge me. I can't just abandon you now."

"I failed."

"So what?"

"Even if I didn't, I don't need ya to stay 'cause of some nonexistent debt. I did it 'cause I wanted to."

"I haven't finished yet. I said that I can't just leave you, but it's not only that. Even if you hadn't left Soul Society and gone with Aizen and all that other crap, I still wouldn't want to leave you. And did you hear what you said just now?"

"...What?"

"You said that you did it because you wanted to. Well, guess what?" She tugged harder at his arm, and he finally looked at her. "I'm doing this because I want to. What if I said I was the one that needed to be here?" His jaw clenched. "Now stop arguing and be a good boy." She could tell by his empty expression that there was a battle raging within him. But a second later, the turmoil disappeared, replaced with a cold look.

"Yer bein' stupid."

October 22nd

"Give it up already, Rangiku," he groaned, sitting against the wall, eyes closed. She stepped boldly into the room.

"I told you, I go wherever I want and you can't do anything about it." When he sighed, the circles under his eyes seemed to darken. Matsumoto frowned. "You should get some rest."

"I don' need sleep."

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest. "You need rest right now."

"I'm not tired." The woman growled, frustration at its max.

"Bakudou No. 1: Sai." Gin stared at her incredulously, his arms twisted behind his back. She shoved him into a corner and took a seat beside him. "Just sleep, Gin."

"Ya bound me!"

"Because you wouldn't listen to me when I was asking you to do something for your own good. You deserve it," she retorted. The former taichou muttered something under his breath, but she ignored him. They exchanged no words, Matsumoto waiting patiently until he could hold out no longer and his breathing evened out. She gave herself a mental pat on the back and sneaked a glance at him to make sure he was really asleep. Seeing that he was, a slow smile spread on her face and she was about to get up when something caught her eye.

In the corner opposite to them, at the junction where two walls met before cement gave way to bars on the left, there were marks that she hadn't noticed earlier. Careful not to make too much of a racket, Matsumoto crawled closer and realized that they were words, hand-drawn ominously, and yet carelessly, into the thick layer of dust.

君が明日蛇となり

人を喰らい始めるとして

人を喰らったその口で

僕を愛すと咆えたとして

僕は果たして今日と同じに

君を愛すと言えるだろうか

"If you were to turn into a snake tomorrow and begin devouring humans, and from the same mouth with which you started devouring humans, cried out to me 'I love you,' would I still be able to say 'I love you' the same way I do today?"

His voice rang in her mind, the same smile he'd given her when he'd said 'goodbye' as clear as if he were standing there in front of her.

She whirled around to find blue-green eyes open and watching her.

"Don't you already have the answer to that?" she asked him lowly.

He gave her a tiny smile. "Yer askin' me?"

She turned away. "Our actions are evidence enough, Gin," she said.

"I've killed people without feelin' the least bit o' regret," he said.

Ah, her eyes widened. So that was why he didn't want her around. "It never occurred to you, did it?" she laughed wistfully. "I guess you're not cruel enough."

"What are ya talkin' 'bout, Rangiku?"

She pinned him with her gaze and for probably the first time in his life, he felt genuine shivers run up his spine. "I would not have problems replying 'I love you'," she replied. "I can't help that I treasure the snake more than the humans he eats. That never occurred to you, did it?" She clasped her hands together in her lap. "It makes me more of a monster than the snake, doesn't it? Especially when the snake knows that what he did was wrong."

He couldn't say anything back.

"Gin, you've killed people. Living, breathing people that had their own families, their own hopes and dreams. You've helped destroy the lives of the Vizards. I know all that, and I don't like it, and it makes me furious and sad that you couldn't find a better way to get to Aizen, especially when you had to throw away the child in you for it. It makes me angry, and I feel bad for those people, but it doesn't change the way I feel for you." She scooted towards him then, and he felt the binding on his arms shatter. This time, she placed her palm against his left cheek. "I was disgusted and hurt because I thought you'd turned your back on everything that I represented, that I thought you represented too." She paused. "Actually, no. That's not completely true. I would have only covered up those feelings by acting disgusted."

What she left unsaid was probably fully understood by him. If he ever had to leave again, for justified or unjustified reasons, she would go with him. If only to persuade him to go back, she would go with him. And if he decided not to return…well then, she would stay with him, because she wouldn't be able to bring herself to let go a second time. This was a person that she had started everything with, a person for which she had become a shinigami, a person that had helped her discover her personal sense of justice. This was a person she had started it for, and a person that she could throw it all away for.

She wouldn't allow a second time.

She would make him understand that it was all right to stay with her.

"You're not a traitor. Not to me, not to the Soul Society that I defend—only to Aizen Sousuke." Yes, she knew that he ruthlessly cut down everyone in his way; that was how he'd survived in Rukongai—it was part of who he was. And maybe because she had once met with that life-or-death choice too, she couldn't blame him for it. Even more so, if he'd done it for someone other than himself.

She might have ended up doing the same.

"If I had to," he said without emotion, "I'd do it all over again."

Her other hand touched his face too. "What you did can't be justified, but I've accepted it. Kira has too, you know. I think that...I think that sometimes, if you care too much, you end up not caring for everything else. It's too late," she sighed, " and I'm not letting go, not when I think I finally understand you after chasing you for all those years." And they were bared to each other for that single moment, ice-blue to aquamarine.

He felt weak, small—the feeling through which he had pressed his finger into the dust of the wall. "Do ya hate that ya love me?" he asked, forcing it out in this rare moment of fallibility.

She smiled, brighter and truer than he'd seen in a long time. "I don't. I don't. Thank you for all that you've done for me, Gin. Please don't make me stop visiting you, all right?"

And so, the hundred years began.