Rushing this one out. I'm alive and back. The following chapters and stories will be much better- I will make more time for this.

First year of uni is just.. consuming.


When Gin came to, he feels alive. Mother had fixed him, she had upgraded him.

He couldn't see, though. He is still on the cold, hard lab table and her hands are covering his face. He can still hear the monitors, the blaring sirens above them, and the footsteps of the white coats running around outside.

Tōshiro.

He bites his lip suppresses the urge to jump up and search for the boy. As questions overwhelm him, Mother finally speaks.

"Its time to play, 825. Time to clean up the useless trash."

Useless trash. Someone fucked up. Her tone is colder, deadlier and Gin understands what she wants him to do. Again. She moves back from him, letting her hands fall away and at once Gin is assaulted by his abnormally heightened senses- his eyes, his nose, his ears, his skin. His whole body is on alert more than ever, he is aware of everything. Too much.

But then he smells it.

Tōshiro's shampoo. The fresh fruit he's always eating-

The blood.

Before he knows it, Gin is jumping off the lab tab table and dashing past mother, too caught up in the rush of adrenaline and chemicals to pay attention to the smirk crossing that pale, flawless skin.

The outside tunnels are a wreck, debris falling and crashing everywhere, bodies strewn across the ground. What the hell happened since the gas knock him out? Surely, he hadn't been out that long?

Where.

Is.

Toshiro?

He's dashing now, bare feet splashing in cold puddles of God knows what, being cut up by the jagged rocks. He can barely control his body, he has no idea what Mother has done to him; slipping and falling, the control over his limbs fading in and out as he slams into a wall there or trips over a limb over here.

He spots the somehow familiar shock of white hair on the dirty ground.

Gin doesn't exhale until he is by the body, so cold but a pulse is there. He gathers the boy into his arms. Tōshiro's eyes are closed, hiding those sea green eyes Gin had to imagine in confinement. Gin looks over him; a few nicks and bruises. He had never realized how small and fragile Tōshiro was before, he was really only a kid. Unconscious. If Gin believed in those Gods Rangiku would always pray to, he would be thanking them right now.

Gin is jolted from his thoughts at the sound of hurried footsteps rushing towards him. Two white coats, a man and a woman, pulling Tōshiro out of his arms. Gin stays silent and lets them, fingers itching under the urge to break them in half.

"My baby," the woman cries. "Stay away from him!"

The man is tugging her back urgently. "We have to go-"

"No. You have to stay."

It is as if everything freezes, when that sickening, gentle sweet voice envelops them. Mother. Behind them. Flawless and clean, impervious to the dirt and dust around them. She's smiling again. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave. Thieves never go unpunished."

At her beckoning, Gin sullenly makes his way to he side, kneeling obediently, head down. Her surprisingly warm hand begins to stroke his head. From under his silver purple fringe, he doesn't take his eyes off of Tōshiro.

He barely pays attention to the conversation, trying to form a plan on how to get Tōshiro out—safe and alive.

"P-Please, we didn't take anything-"

"Stop lying."

"Please you have to-"

"Enough." A sharp pain and she is pulling Gin up by his hair. He holds in the hiss of pain, remembering very well how Tōsen became blind, just by letting that small whimper escape. Her grip tightens and the fear begins to settle in. What if Tōshiro gets hurt?

"I hope it's worth dying over. Gin. Ikorose."

And then Gin's vision dims to nothing.