Out Of Sight

One more fic, written by me, One-Shot (which looks more like several drabbles in one pageā€¦ ) About my favorite Bleach character, Gin Ichimaru and his journey to the Hueco Mundo. Thought of this when I was listening to Falls Apart of Thousand Foot Krutch yesterday in the middle of the night.

Just like this, I don't expect too much of it.

And sorry if there are mistakes, english isn't my first language, but i just felt like doing it this way.

Disclaimer : Nothing belongs to me, nor the character nor the anime. (Predictable since I can't draw --)


That was his life, since he has left.

He had given up everything that a man of the good society, or just a simple one, would desire. His career, somewhat his honest glory, love, and has certainly locked himself into loneliness. Now fighting was all he could do to avoid being completly empty.


That was what he thought of Aizen, what he was being to all of them. After all they did for him, he was still completly drown in his dreams of domination, wanting to see the worlds dancing in his palm. He saw them as tools, simple mindless tools he could use, break, or rise to reach his goal. But Gin wasn't surprised by that. He nerver expected to be thanked, and was right for that. There's no point in expecting something from a master who doesn't see you.

And he knew too that if he was to betray the said master, he wouldn't show even an ounce of emotion, keep his mask and kill or ignore the lost subordinate.

But Ichimaru won't betray him, because he has nothing to gain in it. He thought of interest rather than of passion, like he always did and does.


When you've given up love and honor, and are a little sadistic, dare say it, bloodlust was the only thing left. Or at least in his case.

He glanced quickly at the young arrancar in front of him, and heard her refusal to join their little group.

He didn't know her, and didn't care either. So he did as he would have done with anyone else of her kind.

"Ikorosu, Shinso."

She didn't expect it, and gasped when the lenghtened blade went through her skin. He touched the heart, she was going to disappear fastly. She stared at him in hatred, cursed him under in a weak voice, and bent forward.

"Whatever you say, I'm already cursed, you wasted your last breath..."

Someone once told him he was soulless. Maybe that's why he pulled back his sword, and tasted the rubyish pearls on it. Sweet Iron. Deep and intoxicating. The taste of guilt he thought. He knew this flavour all too well. And he also knew he was going to feel it a lot of times more in the future.


That was all that emanated from the empty world of Hueco Mundo. Nothingness.

It was Intrusive, and slipped onto everything that stood around it.

And it resulted in Boredom, which was even more invasing the air of the permanently dark land.

Hueco Mundo reminded him of himself, in a way.

Black sky, like his pessimist mind, he couldn't help it.

White sand, the only thing you could see until horizon, like the bony color of his hair, and lethal because of what lay inside it.

He doesn't know yet what's the bright light of moon , and didn't really search, nor want to know.

So he did what he could to fill that hollow life, and that was the reason of his tricks and of the fun he made of the others being who stood there.


That was how he was going to end. He always awaited a derisive strike of fate to hit him. He doesn't know exactly the nature of the blow, but he knows it was going to happen, sooner or later.

Maybe he'll be killed to avenge someone, or by somebody he once loved or liked.

He felt that as a fact. It didn't scare him, indeed it made him smirk, and he was curious to know how he would be finished off, 'cause he wasn't interested in a natural death, that was too simple, too human for his sake, and he wanted old minds to shake when they thought of him, and of ALL his life.

And a good conclusion had always been something that mattered more than a good amount of things to his eyes. Those eyes he always closed. Some say that eyes are a window on soul, so he wanted no one to look into his.

If eyes were a window on soul, and if he was soulless like some guys said, why wasn't he blind ? That was an answerless question.

Like a lot about the strangeness ocurring his life.

But he didn't care about that either.

Finished ! Hm, a little short maybe. But here words for words are useless, so let just leave it like this.

Tell me what you think about that please, I tried to make something not too hollow ( stupid humor of mine), and I used my brain !( 4 once)

So please don't make me work for nothing and review !

Ja-ne matta ! Don't get lost !