I do not own Bleach or any of the characters.
A/N: This is my very first attempt at GinRan! I am not what you might consider a newbie at fanfiction, but please do give it a shot and let me know what you think!
He never really liked opening his eyes.
But he did.
And watched in twisted pleasure as the man stumbled while running as fast as his quivering knees could carry him.
That man, whoever it was, did not even bother with a backward glance. He had been too busy fumbling, trying to pull his trousers up.
As the sounds of footsteps grew distant and left the darkened alley entirely, he returned his attentions to the woman he was here for. Sex hung heavily in the air, musky and carnal; a stark reminder to what he had missed, and now lost to an undeserving stranger. The mixture of anger, pain, jealousy and a dozen other unidentifiable feelings swam in his mind, threatening to overwhelm him. Wasn't she his and only his? Yet he had to face the cruel reality of witnessing her coupling with a random stranger against a wall.
But as always, simply because he was Ichimaru Gin, he could only smile. That was all he did, as he stared down at her disheveled form, slumped against the brick wall as she stared blankly at a point beside his feet. Rangiku was beautiful as always, but this time round, she was not filled with the usual sparkling energy that defined her. Her undergarments were lying in a heap at her feet, while her exposed breasts were in full view. Two empty glass bottles, which most probably contained vodka prior to being drained, were lying by her side. Gin's face hardened ever so slightly. There were so many things he could do; so many faces he could pull.
Yet all Gin did was smile. It had been so back when he first saved her life. It had been so when he betrayed her and left with Aizen Sousuke. And now, he was still smiling at her despite the conflicts within his heart. If he was a tad more expressive with his facial features, he could have given Rangiku so many of the answers she secretly craved within, and things would not have come to such a sorry state
"What are ya doin'?"
She blatantly disregarded his question, which honestly sounded more like a statement with the subtly accusing lilt in his voice.
Gin stepped closer to her, taking in more of the dreadful sight. "Why?"
He had expected her to remain silent and gloomy like a dead doll, complete with the muted and dull orange crown of tresses. Nothing had prepared him for the way her head snapped up at hearing his painfully uttered question.
"When betrayal has robbed one of everything," She stared at him with eyes filled with hatred and anguish. "Further betrayal no longer matters."
Gin froze. He had always been overindulgent with her, giving in to her in his own unique manner since they were mere children. But now, he could not be so. There was no way he could allow himself to see Rangiku fall deeper and deeper down the abyss of self-betrayal. "Rangiku, ya have no idea what ya doin'. Stop it."
She kept her arms folded in front of her, ensuring that neither limb was within his reach. If his fingers came into contact with her skin – gods, she would never be able to hold this fortress up. Everything crumbled with his touch. He had no idea just how powerful his touch was on her; that raw sensation of skin on skin could rival his Shinsou's prowess.
"I may have betrayed my body," She continued, venom lacing her voice. "But I haven't betrayed my mind. And right now, it's telling me to get away from the likes of you."
Gin's smile froze into a mask on his pale, almost gaunt face. Standing motionless as Rangiku pulled herself up into a standing position, he looked into nothingness while she fumbled with alcohol-induced clumsiness to straighten her garments. The sounds of cloth over skin was heard in the almost silent alley as she dressed herself, and he turned to watch her silently with a growing ache in his chest.
How he loved and missed those beautiful breasts and her voluptuous figure, along with every single trait about her, no matter if they were good or bad. Every man most probably liked those to a certain extent, but Gin, just because he was Gin, had more reasons than anyone else to like them. If one had seen the woman one loved come so close to death, one would appreciate anything at present.
He loved her voluptuousness not just because of lewd thoughts, though he had to admit they constituted part of the reason. He appreciated her curves, her breasts and her perfect womanly body because he knew she was now well-nourished and taken care of. Gone were the days when the little girl would suffer from starvation, and he was comforted with the thought of how her bones would never come so close to her tender porcelain skin again.
He was well aware many men out there were easily intimidated by her height. For an Asian girl, she sure was tall, with an impressive height of 175 centimeters. Sure, he still towered over her by quite a significant bit, but what he liked was the fact that she grew up well. It once again proved she was privileged enough to get all the nutrients required for healthy growth, and Gin found himself liking the thought of that pretty much.
He knew she was an impulsive shopaholic, and most probably often came close to maxing out on all her credit cards in the real world whenever she had the chance to splurge. But he found it all endearing. It simply meant she had money to spend, and he was comforted with the thought of how he would never have to hear her longing sighs as she stood outside display windows of the shops.
Gin also knew she enjoyed alcohol, especially in the form of sake. It was most probably not too appropriate for a woman to drink so much, but he was comforted by the fact that she would go drinking with others like Kyouraku Shunsui and Hisagi Shuuhei, which means she was in good hands. Besides, the only way he could really hear truthful words from her now was when she was intoxicated. If Rangiku had been completely sober, he would never have had a chance to get through to her.
The betrayal was too great to bear, and to her, it was worse than starvation, poverty and not having any alcohol to consume. She had to turn to alcohol and the occasional romp with some random stranger from the pub just to take her mind off things. Tonight was no exception. In fact, tonight was when she needed this brief escape from everything most.
Many years ago, on this very day, he had given her a new lease of life. Why did he bother with saving her life back then if he would end up killing her heart eventually? Rangiku felt as if she was simply surviving on borrowed time from Gin, and debts were always meant to be repaid.
"Excuse me, Ichimaru taichou."
Holding her head high up, as if trying hard to retain the scraps of dignity she was left with. She made a move to walk past him, deliberately avoiding his gaze lest he attempted to guilt trip her into compliance once again. Rangiku was sick of being his doll. She only had herself to blame for that; really, because she knew all along that one of Gin's favorite playthings were human beings.
Knowing him too well, Rangiku was almost convinced that if Gin had not become a shinigami, he would have grown up into a puppeteer. He apparently enjoyed manipulating people on the strings he held so comfortably in his hands, watching them struggle through the complex plots he appreciated so much.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he extended his hand smoothly, effectively blocking her path. With the very same smile he wore all the time, Gin lifted the dried persimmon up to Rangiku's chest level.
"Happy birthday, Rangiku."
She stared at the dried persimmon in his hand incredulously, while alcohol worked evilly to awaken the raw anger which had remained dormant within her for so long. So he remembered…but what was the point? Sure, she got a birthday when he saved her. But it was also thanks to him that she got a death day, and that was when he left her. He was always so weird; what was he planning to celebrate next? Her death day?
The smile left Gin's face for the first time that night when Rangiku forcefully snatched the persimmon out of his hand and threw it onto the dirt path.
As she stepped away, deliberately stepping on the dried persimmon so as to squish the leathery fruit, simply to prove her resolve. Rangiku failed to notice how Gin's fingers slowly closed around nothingness as they tried to get accustomed to the abrupt loss of the fruit.
The smile reappeared on his face. But it was too late, she was already leaving.
"Rangiku." He called out calmly from behind her, but she did not respond.
He failed to notice her tears, which were slowly falling down drop by drop, as if, to join the dried persimmon in death. It wasn't as if she wanted to ignore him.
Rather, Matsumoto Rangiku just did not want to die again. She already died once when he left her, and no, she did not need another Death Day.
A/N: Please read and review! And do let me know if this story should be continued or not. I thought it'd be rather beautiful and tragic to end in this way.