Ichimaru Gin couldn't help but be thoroughly amused at the sight of Aizen-sama's carefully crafted empire falling to those kids. He watched from a tower window as the red-head defeated defense after defense, smiling ceaselessly.
After all, the outcome of the war was no concern of his.
Aizen's grab for power would be thoroughly ill-fated, he knew – he could think of a dozen different ways he could have done it himself, without alerting Soul Society to the threat.
Of course, it was so much less fun that way.
Because Gin wasn't interested in being the overlord. He was more than willing to play second to Aizen - watching was so much more amusing, and took much less effort. But he wasn't above making suggestions to further his own ends.
The letter to Hinamori-chan had actually been his idea – he was the one skilled at fucking with minds, after all, not Aizen. That particular debacle had been purely for his enjoyment – And it played to Aizen's desires as well. The girl's death at his hands had appealed to his sense of irony.
Gin heard Aizen's voice from where he sat by the window as it echoed in anger from the overlarge throne room. He knew that there had been another defeat, and Aizen's impulse, of course, was to punish the messenger.
He waited a slight few moments before Ulquiorra passed by his door, bloody and beaten.
"Hey… why don' ya come in for a minute?" Gin smiled at the stone-cold face in the doorway, enjoying the feeling of pure humiliation emanating from the boy as he followed the command.
"Yes, Ichimaru-san. What is it you require of me?"
Gin's eyes glinted.
"You got too many clothes on. Ya won' be needin' em."
"I understand, sir."
Gin's smile grew as he watched the boy disrobe uncomfortably. After all, he was the only one getting what he wanted out of all this.
And that suited him just fine.