Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. It is the property of Tite Kubo; I merely borrow the characters for my own amusement.

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Intricacy

In order to tell a successful lie, one must first know the truth, but in the telling of either truth or lie, one must be unpredictable. For this, sometimes tell the truth as a lie, and sometimes a lie as truth. Speak in such a manner and you become an enigma, unknowable and invariably guarded against.

Gin knows this—likes this.

--

Ichimaru Gin, from the moment he entered the Academy to the frozen instance of his departure, was hailed – whispered about – as a mysterious, devious figure. There were none who dared speak it to his face, quite understandably, but the subdued murmurs existed nonetheless.

Put simply, no one understood him and thus he became suspicious; they could not accept one whose thoughts were entirely at question.

--

In the ceremony that would officially name him captain, Gin bowed respectfully, “This is a great honor. Thank you for your consideration,” he said quite graciously, quite earnestly and no one had cause to complain.

(A few of the more paranoid – perceptive – felt an uneasy discontentment.)

In the hallways of the Academy, Gin offered the newly adopted Kuchiki girl his congratulations and his reassuring smile as he noted her stricken features.

(She said nothing, only nodded jerkily and hurried away.)

In an obscure, abandoned building, Gin heard in passing a few truant students speculate on the nature of his vague, chilling smile and deceptively mild words. As they leapt to their feet to salute the Captain Ichimaru, the pleasant smile mentioned invited the students to share in the joke: “Because I’m an evil person, that’s why.”

(Their nervous chuckles continued long after his vulpine feature disappeared from view altogether.)

--

In a past long since disappeared, Vice-Captain Matsumoto had been summoned several times to impart her expertise on a singularly troublesome problem. It was another year before those in authority realized “I have no idea” was truly an expression of cluelessness.

Though all consider Matsumoto Rangiku to be the foremost expert in the matter – the only expert – in actuality, she only knows as much as the next person.

Considering she remains the only childhood friend of Ichimaru Gin – the dilemma in question – others know nothing at all.

She cannot explain what the Captain’s latest vague statement means, nor the reasoning behind his nearly insubordinate actions, but she can say one thing, and that makes all the difference in the world.

Rangiku understands that there is no understanding the obscurity that is Ichimaru Gin—she accepts this.

She accepts him.

--

“A fine day for a picnic, no?”

They meet only occasionally (as members of the Gotei Thirteen, it would be impossible for them never to) yet whenever they saw each other – if even in passing – Gin would never hesitate to partake in some semblance of pleasantry. His words were simple, to the point.

Rangiku could never fathom the meaning—if he had meant them at all.

“Vice-Captain Matsumoto, you look… well.”

(She had just awoken from a nap.)

“You should have those wounds seen to. It would be unsightly to mar such beauty.”

(The day’s patrol had not gone smoothly.)

“As spirited and carefree as ever. That’s what I love about you.”

(She must have been drunk… again.)

Rangiku could never tell if he spoke in jest, if he spoke in outright lie, or – only in her wildest, darkest dreams – if he told the truth, such as it wasn’t.

He is Ichimaru Gin.

She would never know.

--

I’m sorry.

It was a cruel twist of fate that gave Rangiku her clarity in the same stroke that took her enigma away.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

And she understood. Everything.