To Tap on Teeth

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/27564019.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Bleach
Relationships: Ichimaru Gin/Matsumoto Rangiku, Aizen Sousuke/Hinamori Momo
Characters: Ichimaru Gin, Matsumoto Rangiku, Hitsugaya Toushirou, Kira Izuru,
Hinamori Momo, Aizen Sousuke, Kuchiki Byakuya, Zaraki Kenpachi
Additional Tags: Romance, Smut, Growing Up is Depressing, Alternate Universe -
Modern Setting, Poor Life Choices, Aizen is a lizard person, Aizen and
Momo are toxic, All adult situations are between characters who are 18+
Language: English
Series: Part 3 of Corpse Metaphor
Stats: Published: 2020-11-14 Completed: 2021-01-03 Words: 40,589 Chapters:
8/8
 To Tap on Teeth
by antioedipus

Summary

Waiting pays off.

"Rangiku jangles her keys in her pocket, looking up at the porchlight, when the back of her
neck prickles. She doesn’t know why she does this, but she turns around even though
something tells her that it is a bad idea. At the foot of the stairs stands the man who should
have been her future but relegated himself to her past."

Notes
See the end of the work for notes
 Gums

“You always say that you’d prefer to drown”

Phoebe Bridgers “Would You Rather”

It’s no secret that Rangiku’s favorite thing to do is drink. She sits at the bar, tapping a finger
against the countertop. She feels buzzy, not the fun kind. No, she feels restless. She drinks to
dull her senses, but it doesn’t always work. Sometimes the booze makes her hyperaware of
her surroundings, the world turning lurid rather than blurry. She rests her chin on the heel of
her hand, staring out into space.

A man asks if he can take her home. He doesn’t even pretend to look at her eyes. She huffs
and leaves him with her bill, slipping out into the cold night. Rangiku likes the drunk walk
home when the weather is cooler. It makes her skin prickle, and the walk always sobers her
up. Tossing her hair back over her shoulder, she looks around. There is a single cricket, and
other than that, she is alone.

She doesn’t think about Gin, not much, not anymore. Which is to say, it’s not 24/7; maybe
10/7. Everyone would laugh at her if they knew how often she thought of him. Toushirou
says nothing, and for that, she is grateful, but she knows it’s out of pity, more than anything.
They all live in the same small, tiny town, and everyone knew that she, most of all, had
wanted to get away.

Toushirou, alone, knows that Gin had promised Rangiku that they were going to leave
together. Rangiku hadn’t applied to college. Her plan had been to work over the summer and
follow Gin to wherever he was going. Then prom rolled around, and Gin didn’t show up, nor
did he appear at school the next week. The problem is that he never told her which school he
chose, and not even she knew which schools he applied to. He was always very secretive,
even with her.

She lost her courage and stayed behind. Resigned herself to being pretty and mediocre. And
stinking drunk. She yawns, shrugging away the depression and wasted potential as she walks
up the steps of her apartment. She lives in a converted attic in an old Victorian house. She
thinks it’s appropriate that she lives in a place that looks haunted.

Rangiku jangles her keys in her pocket, looking up at the porchlight, when the back of her
neck prickles. She doesn’t know why she does this, but she turns around even though
something tells her that it is a bad idea. At the foot of the stairs stands the man who should
have been her future but relegated himself to her past.

Gin’s parents are dead. His uncle Aizen had taken him in as a boy, but Gin didn’t care for
him. Aizen told her that Gin didn’t bother leaving a note. You know him, Aizen said, his voice
serene. Rangiku didn’t like Aizen either. She found him gummy and soulless, lacking any
distinct traits of his own. Aizen always seems to act like he is a human, instead of being one.
Like humanity is something he has to consciously project. It’s why he’s so polite and insists
on being likable. Real monsters wear human skin. Gin said that once, and he has never been
wrong. She believes this so absolutely, that she doesn’t even question why he left her behind.
She just figures that he had a good reason.

So, as she looks at him, standing in front of the house, she can only blink. If you came back,
that means you were wrong, and you are never wrong. Rangiku says nothing, even when he
eyes her bare legs.

“Hello Kitty,” he hums. She looks down at the band aid on her knee.

“It would have been funnier if you just called me Kitty.” She drawls. Gin smirks.

“The beauty of the double entendre.” He steps up to the porch. He hasn’t even asked her how
she’s doing, whether or not she wants to see him again.

“Why are you here?” she asks. Gin has a suitcase in one hand, and a backpack over his
shoulder.

“Down on my luck,” he says.

“Am I the kind of girl a man turns to when he’s down on his luck?” she asks, trying to regain
some control. Gin smiles one of the unsettling grins that make her heart thump and her
tummy drop.

“Oh, Rangiku,” he tuts, “you’re the kind of girl a guy reaches for when he thinks his luck has
turned around.”

Apparently, that’s enough, because she lets him in.

**

He can see up her short skirt as she walks up the stairs. From experience, he knows her skin
will be cold and clammy. She always liked showing her body off, even in the cold. There is
still one single freckle on her left calf, just below the back of her knee. It’s the kind of freckle
that looks more like a birthmark; like it was destined to be there.

It’s been six years, but not much has changed around here. This small town is a myth, in his
mind. When he drove into town, he expected there to have been some sort of change but,
sadly, it’s all the same.

The first thing he did was buy gas, in case he changed his mind, couldn’t find Rangiku or she
refused to see him. He is pretty sure everyone else here hates him, except Izuru, if he stuck
around. Aizen insists that he loves and supports Gin, like he cribbed the line from a parenting
book. How to Love Your Pathologically Unlovable Nephew—available wherever fine books
are sold!
When he came out after paying, he saw none other than Toushirou, of all people, sitting on
the hood of his car, scowling. Gin tilted his head to the side, waiting for Toushirou to say
something. He watched him take out a piece of paper and a pen, scribble something down,
before walking over to Gin and giving it to him. Don’t make me regret giving you this, he had
said. Gin didn’t need to be told what this meant.

He got in the car, looked at the address, and sped off. Gin had sat, waiting for the courage to
get out. When he saw her, in her pleated skirt and tight turtleneck, he knew that nothing had
really changed. Higher necklines and all black mean nothing when the Lolita barrettes he
bought her pin her hair back. Lolita spelled out in gold cursive, pinning her hair back, out of
her face.

“Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three,
on teeth.” Gin wrote his undergraduate thesis on the gross misinterpretation of Lolita as
anything but the story of a monster trying to make his predation on a young girl sound like a
love story. Gin believes that Nabokov knew that simpletons like love stories, that people will
eat anything up if the word ‘love’ is thrown around enough times.

Lolita is the real hero of the novel; brave and cunning, questioning Humbert and refusing to
fully submit to his delusion that they were, in any way, in love. Rangiku reminds Gin of
Lolita, in the sense that she too is indomitable.

Rangiku is the only person who has loved him and meant it. Aizen had given Gin the beat-up
copy of Lolita in his suitcase, but Rangiku is the person who made him want to put the words
‘I’, ‘love’ and ‘you’ together. Gin regards Aizen to be a reptile who is very good at
pretending to be a normal human person, and it’s a sick cosmic joke that the man who gave
him his favorite book is also an unassuming high school English teacher who was tragically
widowed in the accident that killed Gin’s parents.

It’s even sicker that he let Momo hang off of him the way he did, and that none of the adults
called him out on it. Gin left the day he walked in and found them, there, not even two weeks
after her eighteenth birthday. Convenient of him to wait for Momo to be legal. Gin thought it
was a masterful touch, from the simulation of humanity that is Aizen. Gin had been disgusted
at the time, but now he doesn’t really care. Indifferent is the word.

He has meant to call or send a letter. He won’t tell Rangiku this, because it is crueler to say I
wanted to write you than to have just done it. The logical question is why didn’t you do it? His
answer is pathetic: I didn’t want to think about you throwing it away.

When they finally get to her apartment, she opens the door and kicks her shoes off, before
wandering over to the kitchenette. Gin sets his suitcase and backpack down and looks around.
It’s a bachelor. She has a big bed on an iron bedframe, right under the big window. She has
one of those mass-production prints of Marilyn Monroe that you can buy at any big box store
that sells everything, and a rug from Nepal that belonged to her grandma. Her pink scarf
hangs off the frame of her bed, like she cast it off and it landed right there.

There are two loveseats, facing each other, several plants all clustered along the windows.
The curtains are gauzy, more for decoration than any actual purpose. He takes his shoes off
and walks into the apartment. It smells like her, in all her her-ness. A mix of her laundry
detergent and perfume and what he remembers her smelling like, beneath all of those things.

“Would you like anything?” she asks, washing her hands. Gin shakes his head. “You sure?”

“I ate on the road,” he hums, looking at her meager book collection. She still has the copy of
Lolita he bought for her, when he refused to lend her his precious copy. It looks worn, like
she has read it many times. He picks it up, thumbing through the pages.

There are notes in the margins, underlined passages. “I read it when you left,” she says,
watching him. “I looked for clues as to where you had gone.” He looks at her hands, her bony
wrists. They are shaking. Gin feels ashamed for making her feel this way.

“You weren’t going to find any.” Not here.

“I know that.” Now.

**

The mystery of where Gin came from is as compelling to her as where he is going. He never
talked about his parents or his hometown, his real one. He just showed up when he was eight.
People find him creepy, but that’s not a fair assessment. He’s someone who is very observant
and doesn’t hide it. That’s why people don’t like him; he can see right through them and
doesn’t see the point in lying about it. Aizen is sort of like that, but he does it to manipulate
people.

She found out about him and Momo when she went to his house, looking for Gin. Rangiku
was in her cherry red prom dress, woozy from the alcohol and holding her heels in her hand,
ready to go over and give Gin a piece of her mind for standing her up. She walked past the
side of the house and saw them. Rangiku never knew why he left, but she always felt like it
had something to do with Aizen and Momo.

Gin didn’t come back for the wedding, or the baby shower, not that she can blame him. None
of them wanted to be there, or act like this was normal. But life doesn’t give one many
choices, so, here they are.

“Gin?” she asks, watching him sit on her bed. He looks at her, unblinking. “I missed you a
lot.” She’s still a little drunk, but she also doesn’t want to lie right now. His absence hurt
more than his departure. There is still a Gin shaped hole inside of her.

“A pretty girl like you missed a creep like me?” he asks. She frowns.

“You adopt the posture of a creep, but you’re not a creep.” Rangiku walks over and sits
beside him. Their thighs brush, before she presses hers to his. Gin looks down at their legs.
If there were a way to turn back time, and take her with him, he’d do it. Sadly, he only has the
present and the future, both things which are currently unfolding and therefore,
undetermined. Gin looks up at her face, her hopeful, bright face, and thinks about how he has
missed her. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“For what?” her voice is soft, and she sounds a little confused.

“For leaving. For not writing.” He doesn’t want to talk about Aizen and Momo. He knows
they’re married. Momo sends him Christmas cards, holding a chubby baby while Aizen has a
child on his lap. Gin doesn’t throw them away, but that’s because he feels for those kids.
Someone needs to be on their side, as his narcissistic uncle and delusional ‘aunt’ certainly are
not.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Rangiku says. Gin frowns.

“You shouldn’t tell people that they don’t have to treat you right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“It means that you should be mad at me. Maybe slap me across the face.” He looks away
from her, which is how she knows he is in one of his moods.

Rangiku touches his arm, and the tendon in his neck rises. “I’m not going to slap you.” She
says this softly, moving her hand to his neck, tracing his tendon with her pointer finger.
“Slapping you is the last thing I want to do.”

“What’s the first thing?” he replies, “let’s start there.”

“The first thing?” she says. He nods. “Can you look at me please?” Gin turns his head, and
realizes, too late, that she is going to kiss him, and he is going to kiss back.

She presses her mouth to his, and she is surprised that he leans in the way that he does. She
closes her eyes and sighs into his mouth, pressing herself up to him. Gin pulls back and looks
at her for a second. “We don’t have to.” He knows where this road will lead. Rangiku puts a
hand on his cheek.

“We have to,” she says, “I want to.” Gin kisses her.

“We don’t have to,” he says into her mouth, “but we want to.” He surrenders himself to the
mysterious mind-meld that is their relationship.

If asked, he couldn’t really articulate what they see in each other. Since he was eight, he was
always watching her. Keeping an eye on her, sharing snacks with her. The little things you do
to show you care. She was the first person he spoke to in this town, other than Aizen. He
guesses that the things that others find creepy about him are charming to her. She has never
once shivered or winced in his presence. No, she has always looked at him with genuine
affection.

She’s pretty, it’s true. But that’s not why he likes her. There are lots of pretty girls with huge
breasts and self-destructive tendencies, who resign themselves to staying the same. While
neither hurt, he knows it’s not her looks or her fondness for him that makes him kiss her back
or compelled him to come back to this godforsaken town. With his tongue in her mouth, he
supposes that love wouldn’t be so powerful if it could be understood.

He smiles into her mouth when he feels her hands in his hair. She would always play with his
hair, braiding it or smoothing it out. Gin wonders if she knows how much he likes it when
she’s soft with him. It’s been six years, but she still makes him feel gooey on the inside, like
his insides have melted and they might leak out of him. He’s very good at hiding the intensity
of his feelings, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

For Rangiku, having Gin’s whole, undivided and devoted attention is its own reward. It
makes her feel less stupid for pining, for waiting while everyone else grew up and moved on
with their lives. Gin lays her down, and she wastes no time wrapping her legs around his
waist. She has looked for him in other men, but none of them ever did it for her. Her orgasms
all felt a little empty, making her feel lonelier than she had been before. Toushirou told her
that she just hasn’t found the right guy. The truth is that she did, he just wasn’t around
anymore.

They could move slow, but they both want to go fast. Gin takes off his own shirt as Rangiku
takes off hers and unclips her bra. He looks at the chain around her neck, and his mouth
waters. He leans back down and puts his mouth on it, sucking on the chain. She doesn’t know
why this turns her on so much, but it does. Gin wanders down, taking a cold nipple in his
mouth. She hums under him, indifferent to the sensation but enthralled by his attention.

“How do you want to do it?” she asks. Gin gets up, hovering over her.

“I want to see your back.” It’s the most vulnerable position, because they can’t see each
other’s faces.

“Is it too intimate to look me in the eyes?” she simpers, getting onto all fours.

“I think it’s more intimate to have sex without being able to the other person’s face,” he says,
“you can’t see what the other person is feeling easily.”

“So, this is an exercise in trust?” she asks over her shoulder. Rangiku smiles at him like he’s
told her a secret.

“I want to be close to you,” he says, standing up to take off his pants. She bites her lip,
something he clocks but chooses to ignore.

“You like the kind of sex that makes you feel vulnerable?” she asks, watching him come up
behind her. He flips her skirt up and pulls her underwear down to her knees. Gin sticks his
pointer and middle fingers into his mouth before putting them against her. She moans after he
starts rubbing her clit. She leans down on her elbows, sticking her ass up. Her back slopes
down into her shoulders and neck. He wonders if she carries any tension there. He does.

Rangiku moans loudly, wanting him to move more. He slips a finger inside her, surprised that
she is so wet already. “You must really like me,” he says. Rangiku thrusts back onto his hand
and presses her face into a pillow. “I didn’t hear a response.”
“I really like you,” she twists her head. “I would say I like you a lot.” She makes guttural
noise when he slips in a second finger and rubs her clit harder. Gin smiles. “You know, I’ve
been pretty bad while you’ve been gone,” she pants. Gin raises an eyebrow. He increases the
pressure, and she responds by thrusting back onto him.

“I doubt it.” Rangiku could never be a bad person to him. He knows she means it in a sexual
way, but even that doesn’t work because she is always good to him. Even when they were
fumbling in the back of Aizen’s car.

“I’ve been with lots of men.” She gasps when Gin slips in a third finger, and he has to
restrain himself from joking about the sizes of these other men.

“I don’t care how many other men you sleep with, sleep with the whole town for all I care,”
he says. What he says next is a gamble, but not only does he think that he’s right, he thinks it
will make her melt. He rolls her clit between his thumb and pointer to get her attention. “I
don’t care about them because I know I’m the only one who really matters, and I only care
about how good you are to me.” Her eyes go wide, jaw hanging open as he moves his hands
faster and harder. She nods.

“Yes,” she hisses.” Gin smirks. Only Rangiku could get off being told that she’s good to
someone. She moans loudly. “Tell me.”

“Tell you?”

“How good I am.” She sighs. Rangiku, very badly, wants his affection. She wants to suck it
all up with a straw.

“You’re just a good girl who wears slutty clothes because you only care about how one
person sees you, isn’t that right?”

“It is,” she says, feeling her orgasm build inside of her. Like there is a tingling in her guts and
a buzzing in her brain.

“And the only person you care about is—”

“You.”

“Me.” He is glad that he can’t see her face right now. Her adoration would kill him dead. No
one has ever intended to love Gin, except Rangiku. Six years apart, and she still only sees
him. “It’s a questionable choice, but you’re a very good girl. The best girl.” The only girl I
see.

“I’m the only one you want too,” she pants, trying to keep up with the conversation while her
vision blurs. Gin doesn’t answer, but he does give her what she wants.

A string of fucks spills out of her mouth, like he had pulled them all the way from the back of
her throat himself. She thrusts back and he goes takes the opportunity to slip inside, making
her moan again. She feels him rise above her, a wave to the shoreline; she wants him to break
her. I’m the only one he wants. She could live on that accomplishment for the rest of her life.
He kisses her shoulder, his stomach to her back, their hips pressed together completely,
beyond the pull of in-out and pursuing that impossible, beyond their reach deepest. He rubs
against the back wall and her toes curl. The way she says his name makes him want to bury
himself inside of her. She gets loud, screaming and crying out, because she has waited for six
long years for him to come home so they could meet as a man and a woman. The way he
rearranges her guts makes it all feel very worth it. Six years is nothing, a blip, no time at all,
compared to the way that coming together feels like eternity.

Eventually, they reach the point where the world tears apart, and they are spent, left to think
about what they have just done. Gin sits back and looks at a drip of semen on the inside of
her thigh, as she pants hard, still on her elbows and knees. His tongue taps the back of his
teeth when he sees that, despite the rough fucking and sweating and okay, some hair pulling,
her barrettes are still in place. It’s like they are taunting him for leaving her behind in the first
place. It’s not enough to come back, you have to stay. Gin didn’t really consider the
consequences of fucking Rangiku from behind, raw.

She rises, slowly, and looks at him over her shoulder. “I waited for that,” she says. Gin nods.
He always knew that she would take him back, in the end. Look at her choices. Toushirou?
Don’t make him laugh. Izuru? Don’t make him cry. He wonders out of all the men they know,
who did she actually sleep with?

“Was it worth the wait?” he asks. Rangiku stands up on the bed, unzipping her skirt and
pulling it off, along with her underwear.

“Yes,” she says, “I haven’t felt alive like that in a long time.” Sex with any other man makes
her feel dead inside. It’s worse when she comes, too. She started faking it, sex with other
people was so bad.

“I make you feel alive,” he gets on his knees and pulls her hips towards him. His mouth finds
her, and he precedes to put his mouth against her and find out what their fluids, mixed
together, taste like.
 Tongue
Chapter Summary

Thrumming.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“You are anonymous, I am a concrete wall”

Phoebe Bridgers, “Smoke Signals”

Gin’s mouth is dry when he wakes up. He rolls onto his back, and blinking when he feels
Rangiku’s arm. He pokes her nose, smiling to himself when she grunts. She sleeps on her
back, arms spread out. Gin sits up, looking down at her. He hasn’t brushed his teeth since
yesterday morning, and he can tell that he has overslept. He sits up, looking around.

Her apartment is messy; dirty dishes on the counter, clothes strewn everywhere, dust motes
hanging in the air. You still don’t know how to take care of yourself, Ran. He looks down at
her, passed out with her limbs bent in odd angles. Gin thinks she looks like a broken doll. The
fact that his mind jumped there first bothers him. He stands up and pulls on his pants, not
bothering with his underwear. He has to move his car, and then he is going to come right back
up here and crawl back into bed beside Rangiku and put off seeing anyone else for another
day.

He uses her deodorant, then picks up a sweater off of her floor and pulls it on. It’s a big, grey
crewneck that belonged to her father, so it fits Gin fine. He sticks his feet into her slippers,
which she always buys several sizes too big, and grabs his car keys, taking the stairs two at a
time.

It’s been six years, but nothing has changed, not really. It’s sort of depressing, until Gin
remembers the absolute misery of the outside world. This place has its charms. Kooky
characters, petty dramas, unending fuckery. But it’s all, for the most part, entertaining.

What Aizen did to Momo, and is still doing to her, isn’t entertaining. Gin clenches his jaw as
he thinks about it. He wonders if things would have been different if he had been around to
challenge her daydream of a happy family with Aizen. A weirdo nephew the same age as
Momo would have disrupted her puerile fantasy. But he had been so thoughtless, he had just
left without a word. Packed the essentials, got on a bus, and moved to the city where he
would attend university.
He opens the front door and closes it behind him, spinning his key ring around his finger. He
steps off the porch and looks across the street, where he parked his car. He frowns when he
sees a familiar ponytail and a gold badge.

It’s none other than Renji, someone who probably doesn’t like Gin, writing him a ticket. The
probably becomes a definitely when Renji looks up and see him walking towards the car,
clearly coming from Rangiku’s apartment. Renji frowns, his jaw clenched, and Gin tilts his
head, wondering what offense he committed against Renji that could have lasted six years.

“Of course, you became a cop,” Gin says, not bothering to be pleasant. He watches the
tendon in Renji’s neck rise, giving him a smug sense of satisfaction.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Renji asks. Gin hits the button of his car fob, unlocking it.

“That you always become what you already are,” he hums.

“Look, I don’t have time for your little word games, or your riddles, or your pretentious ‘I’m-
an-intellectual’ bullshit today,” Renji says, clearly annoyed.

“I didn’t know that you could use words longer than six letters,” Gin says, “the world is full
of surprises.” He has a very affected way of speaking. Even though he has lived here since he
was eight, Gin has never, ever sounded like a local. The way he speaks rubs Renji the wrong
way, kinda like seeing him walk out of Rangiku’s apartment did.

“Do you think I’m stupid or something?” Renji asks.

“I politely decline to answer,” Gin comes up on the driver’s side and leans against the door,
holding his hand out for the ticket.

“Why’d you even come back here?” Renji asks, handing Gin the ticket. He doesn’t like the
question. Gin suspects that Rangiku didn’t exactly keep it a secret that she was waiting for
him. So, it feels very personal when Renji, of all people, decides to ask Gin why he came
back. The answer is obvious; Gin came back for Rangiku. Just as he is unconcerned about
other men, he thinks their relationship is of no concern to others.

And, speaking of other men…Gin tilts his head, and eyes Renji. He’s not pretty, but he’s not
ugly, either. He’s handsome in a brutish, violent kind of way. Heinous tattoos, an obnoxious
ponytail, the oafish sense of right and wrong—not what he expected of Rangiku, but he
supposes she could have done worse.

“Did you fuck Rangiku while I was away?” Gin asks. It’s kind of a rude question, and in all
honestly, Gin doesn’t care as long as it was between two consenting adults. Renji frowns.

“No one thought you were coming back.” Renji says. He won’t look Gin in the eye, which is
how he knows why Renji isn’t exactly happy that he has returned.

“Well, we rarely get what we want in life,” Gin opens the car door.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Renji asks. Gin shrugs.

“It means I’m not leaving her behind again.” Renji makes a face, flips a sheet on his notepad
and scribbles before ripping it off and giving it to Gin. “Another ticket?”

“For loitering.” Renji says. Gin snorts.

“Another word I didn’t think you knew,” he climbs into his car and starts it, smiling politely
when Renji hits the side of the car with the flat of his hand.

**

Gin drove around the block and then parked behind the house, since Renji now knows what
his car looks like. When he gets back into the apartment, Rangiku is up, poking around her
freezer.

“I don’t have anything for us to eat,” she whines. Gin kicks her slippers off, and she smiles
when it registers that he is wearing her sweater. “You look good in my clothes.”

“I’ll look even better when I brush my teeth.” He opens his suitcase and picks up the bag
holding his toothbrush.

“What’re we going to do today?” she asks, “I don’t have work.”

“Well,” Gin says, “I was hoping we could stay in and fuck around all day.”

“Fuck around and make a baby?” Rangiku asks. Gin doesn’t miss a beat.

“If you’re good.” He replies, walking over to the bathroom.

“Most men wouldn’t be so calm in the face of that question.”

“I’m not most men,” Gin says. He squeezes some toothpaste onto his toothbrush and starts
brushing his teeth, listening to her hum in the kitchen. They haven’t seen each other in six
years, but she would always say crazy things to him. If I cut my hand open, would you suck
the blood out of my body? Do you love me so much that you would carry around my pickled
eyeballs if I died? Gin’s answer is always the same: if you’re good. It’s funny, because
everyone thinks he is the creep, but working off the things they say to each other, Rangiku is
the one who needs to get her head checked.

He spits and rinses, then walks back out to see Rangiku in her panties, pulling a dress over
her head. She isn’t wearing a bra.

“I saw Renji outside,” he says, pulling two slips of paper out of his pocket. “He gave me two
parking tickets.”

“Why two?” she asks. Gin goes and sticks them on the fridge with a shark magnet.
“Because I walked out of your apartment,” he says. Rangiku pulls her dress down over her
head, and he smiles at her little frown. “Is he one of the men you slept with?”

“I was feeling lonely,” she says, sticking out a hip. Gin shrugs.

“I don’t mind,” he drawls, “I just think it’s funny that he gave me a second ticket. Apparently,
that’s how good your pussy is.” Gin smiles at the expression on her face. It’s a mix of
indignation and lust. “I don’t blame him.”

“You have a lot of nerve.” She huffs. Gin grins.

“Me?” he asks, shrugging, “never.”

“My pussy is worth more than two parking tickets,” she says.

“At least three,” he replies. Rangiku could argue with him, but she knows it would go
nowhere. She puts her hands on her hips.

“Come here,” she says.

“What?”

“Come here now.” Rangiku opens her arms when he walks towards her, and he pulls her
dress over her head. Her dress is a flimsy, white cotton, with an elastic waist and short
hemline. There is a long line down her stomach, where her abs knit together, and he can see
the ridges of her little ribcage. He traces the edge of a rib with his thumb, frowning to
himself. “Why aren’t you smiling anymore?” she asks. Gin doesn’t say anything. Instead, he
bends down and kisses the side of her neck, getting her hair in his mouth.

The difference between having sex when you’re a teenager and when you’re an adult is that
the older you are, the harder it is to lie to yourself about what a relationship is. Adults know,
on some level, when they are deluding themselves. Teenagers don’t know any better. They
assume that their feelings are all true, that their thoughts are all sincere. Adulthood is about
realizing the inherent duplicity of being a person. No one likes it, but you really won’t ever
see a well-adjusted adult claiming that their love is irrevocable, because they are old enough
to know that the world is always in flux, and the only two things you can’t change about your
life is being born and dying.

Her hair feels smooth on his tongue, and although it doesn’t taste very nice, he likes how it
smells like cherries and sweat. Part of coming back to Rangiku is that she makes him forget
that he was born, and that living is a form of dying. She doesn’t make him feel infinite or
immortal; rather, she makes him feel like he is inside the moment before the universe began,
outside of time itself. She doesn’t make him feel like he is nothing, no, with her he feels like
he is within the nothing that buzzed and sparked the entire universe. He wonders if he could
ever explain it to her, how nice it is that their sex feels like they are becoming something else,
something bigger than themselves, rather than the boring thesis, antithesis and synthesis of
what it usually means to be a man who has sex with a woman.
Rangiku is used to being the one who gets naked first. Men are more eager to see her naked
then she is to see them. All men, including Byakuya, are a little ugly to her, except for Gin.
She knows that she idealizes him, and that nobody is perfect, yet, nonetheless, she looks at
Gin and cannot see any flaws.

“I want you to be naked,” she pushes her hands up the ratty sweater he is wearing. Gin
doesn’t respond to her, kissing her neck. “Talk to me,” she says softly. He stops and pulls
away. I love you so much I’d suck your blood and treasure your pickled eyeballs. Gin has
never been very good at communicating his feelings directly. He always knows what they
are, he just likes to keep them to himself.

“No,” he says, “I don’t want to talk.” Rangiku blinks at him, an uncertain look on her face.
The late morning thrums with life outside. Early fall, but it’s still hot out, and the light
coming in from the large, circular window is bright.

Uncertainty is murdered when Gin takes her face in his hands and kisses her tenderly, with
feeling. Rangiku pulls away and tilts her head, like she is trying to see him from a different
angle. She pulls her sweater off of him and unzips his pants while he watches her. He pulls
his pants off and meets her as she steps forward. When she places her hand over his neck, she
feels his pulse in her palm. She kisses him this time, humming into his lower lip, as if to give
him the air in her lungs.

The first time they had sex, they had been fumbling in the back of Aizen’s car. They didn’t
even take their clothes off, and Gin didn’t last very long. They spent a whole year fumbling
in that car, and each time got a little better. As he walks her back across the room, pulls the
seafoam lace off of her hips and lays her down, she thinks about how different things are
now.

He hadn’t been very good, but nonetheless, it sucked to be with anyone but him. Byakuya,
Shuuhei, Shuunsei, Urahara, Renji. Not bad guys. Just not the right one. Kenpachi always
cackles when she goes home with one of them. You’re one soulless bitch, having sex with
men who make you drier than the fucking Sahara. He even said it to their faces, that’s how
privy Kenpachi is to how little she cares.

But Gin makes her melt. She looks up at him, at the way his face falls when he isn’t trying to
be off-putting, and she feels her heart thump. He kisses her mouth, and she wraps her legs
around his waist. He puts his hand on the back of her thigh, and she feels a shiver move up
her hip and through her spine.

“I won’t speak,” she says into his mouth. Gin sighs.

“You don’t have to be silent.” Rangiku wonders what they look like to other people. Like, if
someone broke into her apartment, what would they think of what they were seeing? Rangiku
refuses to believe that Gin looks like any other man on top of a woman. To her, he is
beautiful and graceful. When he thrusts, he doesn’t grunt like an oaf or bite his lower lip so
hard that it looks like he is going to tear it right off his own face.

No, he always looks very calm. His face becomes softer when she guides him inside of her,
like he can breathe easier, and he leans right down so she can stare into his eyes. Your eyes
are beautiful, you should let me put makeup on you, she once said to him. Gin shrugged and
said she could do it for prom. Rangiku had been so excited.

Then, he didn’t show up like he said he would. She got stinking drunk for the first time,
threw up on Izuru, walked to Gin’s house in bare feet, and saw Momo, naked, beneath Aizen
on the living room floor.

But Gin’s eyes are so pretty that they make her forget all of that. They are like a big, icy blue
sky. He thrusts into her, and their noses are touching.

“What do you want, Ran?” he asks softly. He feels her breath on her lips as she presses her
palms down onto his back.

“I want you to eat my sticky insides,” she pants, “after you finish inside of me.”

“Like last night?” he says quietly. Rangiku nods, humming. “Okay.”

Most facts about Gin aren’t well-known, because most people don’t bother to get to know
him better. One of Rangiku’s favorites is how tender he can be. He moves inside of her,
gently, breathing over her, face soft. Other men scare her a little, when they move on top of
her, but not Gin. He knows that she needs to feel protected, that she doesn’t like being on top
because it makes her feel vulnerable and to enjoy sex, she needs to feel sheltered.

Rangiku is various shades of honey, peach and apricot. All warm. Unbearably sunny, even
though she has melancholic tendencies. She takes his face in her hands and kisses him on the
mouth, as if calling him in, closer and closer. When she pulls away and looks up at him, she
smiles. He is hitting every spot she likes, as if they hadn’t been apart for six years, and for the
first time, in all that time, she is grateful to be stone cold sober for sex. She tilts her pelvis up
and arches her back to meet him, and he smiles, genuinely, at the noise she makes.

When they had sex last night, he didn’t know how to face her knowing how he had hurt her.
But this time, he is able to look into her eyes when he is inside of her, and instead of making
indirect confessions of deep soul love, they are quiet.

**

Eventually, Rangiku convinced Gin that staying in bed and fucking around all day is
impossible on an empty stomach. He is inclined to disagree, but he knew he couldn’t put off.
They walk to the grocery store together, Rangiku in her flimsy dress and Gin in her father’s
old sweater. There is a hole in the neckline; she has stuck her fingers in there to touch his
collarbone several times.

Everyone in town looks at Gin like they’ve seen a ghost. When they saw Kenpachi, he
cackled and remarked no wonder Renji is in a bad mood. Gin doesn’t say anything, but he
does smile in his typical, off putting way.
They are in the grocery store, and he carries the basket while she compares cereal brands.
“You really told no one that you were coming back,” she says, holding up two different
sugary cereals.

“You’re the only person I care about here, aside from Izuru, but I doubt he wants to speak to
me.” Six years is a long time to go without a phone call.

“Why do you say that?” she asks, deciding on the cinnamon-sugar flavoured cereal.

“I left him,” Gin says, “it’s very simple.”

“You left me,” she says, placing the cereal in the basket.

“You’re different,” he says, “you aren’t a normal person who gives up and moves on.”
Rangiku is the kind of person who holds onto every birthday card she has ever received, and
she has a hard time throwing away old shampoo bottles, let alone things she is actually
attached to.

“You don’t move on when you meet the one,” she says, looking right at him. He walks up to
her and places his hand on her cheek. He thinks about whether or not he’d like to be the kind
of person who kisses the freckle on her chin in public, when he hears a loud cough behind
him. He turns and frowns when he sees Aizen and Momo, standing there, one of their
children in their cart and the other strapped to Momo’s back.

He intellectually understands how his cousins came into existence, but had he not walked in
on it himself, Gin would never have been able to believe that someone as cold as Aizen to be
capable of sex. He imagines Momo gets off on her demented idea of Aizen, rather than him
caring about her enough to make sure that she comes. Gin instinctively puts himself between
Rangiku and Aizen, who smiles serenely while Momo smiles.

“Gin!” she exclaims, walking over to him. Momo throws her arms around him. Gin blinks at
his younger cousin, who merely blinks at him over her shoulder. “You didn’t tell us that you
were coming back.” Momo stands back and looks him up and down. “You seem grown,” she
sighs, as if they aren’t the same age. You look good for a child bride he thinks.

“It was a last-minute decision,” he says. Aizen raises his eyebrows at him, catching him in
the lie. Gin always feels like Aizen can see his guts, when he looks at him like that.

“Well, you should stay with us,” she says, “we’re your family.”

One of the reasons Gin finds her behavior so off-putting is that she was never very nice to
him in high school. Never mean, but she would always glare at him whenever she saw him
speaking to Aizen, as if she were jealous when anyone else had his attention. Which, in
hindsight, was probably the case. Gin wasn’t nice to her either, but he isn’t going to act like
their relationship has changed because she married his uncle. He looks down at her tiny hand,
and the plain gold band on her ring finger. I bet you had a Pinterest board of the rings you
wanted. Leave it to Aizen to find engagement rings so gauche that he denies his second wife
of one.
“I’m staying with Ran,” he says, as she steps forward to stand beside him. Momo looks hurt.
She blinks a few times, before crossing her arms. He wonders why his distance hurts her,
until he looks at his cousins, who are looking at him with curiosity. Momo wants to be
accepted by Gin, because he is the one family member Aizen has.

“You ought to come to dinner,” Aizen says, “both of you.”

“That would be nice,” Rangiku smiles, resting her hand on the small of Gin’s back.

“Say hi to your cousin Gin!” Momo coaches the child on her back. The child merely blinks at
Gin; more intelligent than Momo, more mammalian than Aizen. How did they make such a
self-aware seeming little person? Gin waves at the baby, while the toddler in the cart turns
and eyes him over her shoulder.

“You know, there is a job opening at the English department at the high school,” Aizen says,
“you should come see me tomorrow, if you don’t have anything lined up.” Gin presses his
tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“I only have an MA,” he replies. “I don’t have any degrees in education or anything.” Aizen
shrugs.

“You got several big scholarships,” he says, “I kept track. Besides, Byakuya has similar
academic credentials, and he works with me.” Aizen pauses to smile, as if he really were a
person. “Come work with Byakuya and I. I am sure you will feel right at home.”

In all honesty, Gin would prefer a root canal, but he needs a job, preferably one that would
make it clear to Rangiku that he plans on sticking around long-term.

“I’ll visit you tomorrow.” He replies, smiling.

“12:30 in the English department,” Aizen clucks, “and don’t be late.” Gin reaches behind his
back and takes Rangiku’s hand.

I would never dream of it.

**

Gin has absolute faith in two things: that Rangiku is the only person who truly loves him and
Aizen is a lizard person. As he climbs up the stairs to the English office, he pointedly avoids
looking around. There are too many memories for him to be comfortable. Images all rush into
his head, some good, some bad, but the problem is that he can taste and smell each one.

High school is a visceral experience for everyone, but it was especially bad for Gin. When he
comes up to the English office, he feels like he’s seventeen again and Ran’s cotton candy lip
gloss is sitting in the back of his throat. He knocks on the door and tries not to think of how it
felt to be a teenager here.
The door opens, and it’s none other than Byakuya, another person who is too smart to live in
this town. He doesn’t smile, which Gin likes. You always know where you stand with
Byakuya, which is to say, he looks at most people like they are insects. His disdain is nothing
personal, he simply has contempt for lower life forms.

They stare at each other for a moment. It’s weird, meeting someone you knew as a teenager
as an adult and potential colleague. Byakuya still has his hair grown out, and it’s in a
ponytail. They both wear trousers and sweaters, ‘boring man clothes’ according to Rangiku.

“Is Aizen here?” Gin asks. Byakuya nods and points into the office. “Thanks,” Gin says,
walking in. Byakuya leaves, letting the door close behind him. It makes Gin feel trapped.

The windowless room is square. There are four desks. Aizen’s sits in the corner, pulled out so
he sits in the corner and can see the door. There is a table with a coffeemaker on it, though
Gin doesn’t picture either Aizen or Byakuya drinking coffee.

“You came,” Aizen says, sitting back in the chair, smiling. For someone with nice teeth, his
smile is downright abject. Gin feels a visceral disgust that he suppresses, as he sits on the
chair Aizen gestures at.

“I have nowhere else to be.” Rangiku is at work and Gin needs a job. Beggars can’t be
choosers.

“Ah,” Aizen says, “well, that seems to be the theme of this department.”

“Oh?” Gin asks.

So, the story comes out like this: Byakuya, after getting a PhD from a big research university,
decided to forsake the life of an academic and become a high school teacher. Aizen says that,
like Gin, like himself (because, for reasons Gin can’t quite fathom, Aizen wants to insist that
the three of them are all the same), Byakuya has no time for the false prophets and Philistines
of the academy. At this point, Gin had frowned, because he is pretty sure that Byakuya just
woke up and realized how meaningless academic achievements are, and that when you go to
university, you think four years is a long time but then you wake up and realize it has been
six, eight, ten years and all your relationships are shit and you have a pathological fear that
you aren’t and never will be good enough.

He can’t speak for Byakuya, but Gin wouldn’t be surprised if he too woke up one morning
and had a heart attack when he realized that this isn’t the life he wanted. And, like all dying
animals, he came home, like Gin.

Aizen taps his fingers on the desk. He can tell that Gin has stopped paying attention to him.
“So, Gin,” he says, “why no PhD?”

“Because I thrive on being a disappointment.” It’s the opposite, actually. They both know it.
Gin’s big secret is that he actually cares a lot about success.

“You’ve never disappointed me, Gin.”

“You’re impossible to disappoint.” One of his resentments towards his uncle is his inability to
be anything but mildly pleased with Gin. You can only disappoint someone if they care for
you. He thinks that’s how he was able to live with disappointing Ran for so long.

“You really should apply to work in the English department,” Aizen says, “Kaname left, and
Byakuya and I can’t manage the course load.” Aizen smiles, abjectly, at Gin.

“You are a very uncanny person,” Gin says, “has anyone ever told you that?” Aizen grins.

“No, only you.” Gin thinks of the German word for uncanny—unheimlich, un-homelike.
That unsettling feeling of coming back to your house and realizing that someone else has
been there, even though nothing is out of place and you have no way to prove it except the
tingly feeling in your spine.

Gin gets up, not bothering to add that it wasn’t a compliment. Aizen already knows his real
feelings, like all things. He is loath to admit this, but Aizen is the only person who is smarter
than Gin. “I’ve got to go see Ran,” he says lamely.

“You two were always close,” Aizen says, “I think she had a crisis when you left.” Gin
doesn’t like where this conversation is going, but he accepts that he just needs to let it
happen.

“She’s alright.” He replies.

“I’ve seen her with Byakuya,” Aizen says with a serene smile on his face. “Like I said, she’s
been having an ongoing crisis.” Gin feels his jaw clench, but he refuses to give Aizen the
reaction he wants.

“I’m sure she’s doing just fine.” It’s not what he really wants to say, and by the amused
expression on Aizen’s face as he hands Gin the application, he gave him the exact reaction he
wanted. I hate you, Gin thinks as he smiles, tucking the application under his arm. Byakuya
walks back into the office, and Aizen tells Gin to say hello to Rangiku, from both of them.

Gin doesn’t say good-bye

**

Rangiku leans over the counter of the diner, chin on her fist, looking Toushirou in the eye as
he sticks a French fry into his mouth. She spills out of her pink uniform, the lace of her bra
visible, but he is immune to her cleavage. Has been since her breasts grew in.

He works at his dad’s law firm across the street, but he comes in here to do paperwork when
he can. Toushirou offered her an admin gig at his law office, but she declined. Too much
paperwork, and I’m too cute to spend my day under fluorescent lights. He snorted and told
her that she wouldn’t stay hot enough to be so lazy forever. She replied that she was going to
die young and leave a beautiful corpse. He said that he would believe it when he sees her
‘beautiful’ corpse. Did you know lots of people shit after they die? It’s because every
sphincter relaxes, when your soul leaves your body.

She watches Toushirou eye her. Gin told her that he is the one who gave him her current
address. Toushirou has a big wrinkle developing on his forehead, even though he is
practically a baby. It depresses her that the boy wonder, who was just as smart as Byakuya
and Gin, who went and finished law school early, came back here. He was supposed to get
out.

Rangiku takes a fry off of his plate and pops it into her mouth. Toushirou glares at her. “I
don’t know why you’re grumpy,” she says, “technically, you knew he was back first.”

“Because I thought you would at least talk about it with me,” he says.

“You’re very demanding, for such a little man,” Rangiku says. He may be taller than her now,
but he'll always be that little boy to her. Toushirou opens his mouth to say something rude but
stops when he hears the door chime and Momo’s voice. She still makes him go pink, and not
for the first time, Rangiku is bitter that Aizen denied her the entertainment of a Momo-Izuru-
Toushirou love triangle.

“Hi,” Momo says, pushing a stroller, her daughter sitting in the front seat, while her chubby
lump of a baby is in the upper seat, looking up at Momo. “How are you two?”

“Perfect,” Rangiku smiles. Toushirou frowns and offers Momo’s daughter a fry.

“Here,” he says. She doesn’t smile, but she does take a fry to gum on. Momo walks up to the
counter, holding her wallet. It’s one of those black leather wristlets. The kind of nice wallet a
teenage girl buys with her babysitting money.

“I heard Gin got the job at the school,” Momo says, “Aizen is very excited to have him
back.” Rangiku smiles, even though she knows that Gin hates working with Aizen. He only
started working there last week, and he comes home in a mood every day. He immediately
showers after coming home because of that man, as he refers to Aizen.

“He likes teaching,” Rangiku says. It’s not even a lie. Gin appears to genuinely enjoy talking
about things like metaphor and metonymy (she doesn’t know the difference and doesn’t have
the courage to just ask him).

“Creepy Gin, a teacher,” Momo hums, “who would have thought?” Rangiku frowns.

“He was never a creep,” her voice is defensive. Gin isn’t a great person, but he isn’t slimy. He
was never nice to Momo and he makes faces at children to scare them, but he doesn't get off
on manipulating and controlling others. Momo, decisively, ended up with the creep.

“You two should come over for dinner!” Momo says. “It would be so much fun.”
“Fun,” Rangiku says. Her and Gin have a very different idea of fun than Momo and Aizen.
Gin once told her that life is a trap, and she never believes it more than when she sees Momo,
twenty-four with two children under the age of three, with circles under her eyes and a bad
mom haircut. Momo is a very pretty girl, but life has been mean to her. She got the man of
her dreams, but at the price of everything else she could have been.

Sure, Rangiku waited for Gin, but she wasn’t in paralysis, and she didn’t go and bring babies
into her shit.

“Yes, it would be a lot of fun,” Momo smiles, “the kids should get to know Gin.”

“The man you just called a creep,” Toushirou says. Rangiku and Momo glare at him for two
completely different reasons.

“He should know his family,” Momo says, “Aizen agrees that it would be good for him to
feel integrated and supported.” Rangiku stands up straight, feeling offended for Gin.
Toushirou smirks as he watches Momo, clueless to the way she has provoked Rangiku.
Momo has been blind to the feelings of others ever since she fucked Aizen. He is her sun,
moon and stars. Rangiku is sure that Momo’s children are only loved as fiercely as they are
because they are pieces of Aizen, not because of who they are in themselves.

If we had a baby, Rangiku thinks, I’d love them so much that Gin would be a distant planet.

**

Gin doesn’t hate his job. He likes talking about books, and he thinks teenagers are smarter
than they are given credit for. He just greatly detests that he has to work with Aizen. Byakuya
obviously feels the same. More than once, they have made eye contact while Aizen treats
them to his musings on life and art. The only life worth living is the one of the artist… Aizen
likes to make broad, general statements that are only profound to teenagers, and then trail off.
He tries to do so dreamily, but when he was out of the office, Byakuya said that he always
hopes that Aizen will drop dead.

Gin is more or less used to nodding politely and feigning interest. It is a skill he cultivated
out of survival. Placate the narcissist or else. Byakuya, who was raised by people who don’t
bother hiding their disinterest, finds it very hard to deal with someone like Aizen, who refers
to himself as a ‘high modernist’ and has utter contempt for books that have anachronisms or
pastiche or, god forbid, the capital sin of being a mass-market paperback. He regularly
ridicules the YA and romance novels the girls read, even after Byakuya calmly points out that
Romeo and Juliet is on the curriculum and Gin remarks that at least they like reading.

More often than not, Byakuya puts on his headphones and has Gin listen politely for both of
them.
Gin finds it very hard to do when Aizen starts ripping into the students’ papers. He makes fun
of kids for believing kid stuff, like the world being clear and linear, that morality is real and
not just a construct, that true love and heroism and justice aren’t just possible, but the guiding
principles of the universe. Yeah, Gin and Byakuya think these things are dumb, but it’s not
their job to give kids the shit-kicking that life has in store for each one of them.

Aizen leaves the office to teach his next class. Gin frowns at his back. “You know, I’m not
actually related to him.” Byakuya eyes him.

“I cannot imagine having to live with that man.” He replies.

“I went and studied French poststructuralism and American postmodernism for six years to
cope, and then I ended up back here,” Gin says.

“Same,” Byakuya says in a grim tone. “Civilization has been going downhill since we
invented the wheel.” Gin smiles at that one.

**

Rangiku sits on the couch, flipping through a magazine while Gin does his readings for his
classes this week. The grade tens are learning Romeo and Juliet and the grade twelves are
reading Hamlet. Gin is ambivalent towards Shakespeare, but he doesn’t like either play. He
turns to look at Rangiku, who smells like coconut and heat. Rangiku’s mouth is open a little,
and from this angle, her left front tooth appears significantly longer than the right one. It
would look awkward in anyone else’s mouth, but every single one of Rangiku’s flaws are just
as pretty as she is.

Gin could write poems, epics and dissertations addressed to her, all with the same sentence:
‘the revelation of your hick tooth…’

“Ran,” he says, putting his book down.

“What?” she replies, looking at him, her teeth all beautiful and straight.

“You have cute teeth,” he says, putting his finger in her mouth. She closes her lips around it
and sucks. Gin pulls his finger from her mouth and wipes it on his sweater. “I could write
poems about your teeth.” One incisor in particular.

“If you let people see this side of you,” Rangiku says, climbing onto his lap, “no one would
wonder why I’m with you.”

“You’re just as twisted as me,” he hums, “I want to write poems about your teeth, which is
pretty much kitty corner to writing about your bare skull.”

“That’s romantic,” Rangiku hums, kissing his jaw.

“Is that so?” He sighs, letting her kiss him.

“Tell me all about my teeth,” she presses her lips to his, and he throws his book across the
room.

**

‘Clandestine fumbling’ is what springs to mind when Gin thinks of Momo and Aizen. He
can’t imagine Aizen being smooth so much as Momo’s bar for romance being incredibly low.
Gin stands in the kitchen of the big house he used to live in, on a big, corner lot. Momo has
put both the kids down for nap, and she wants to show him ‘something special.’

She leads him up the staircase, and he hesitates before following her. It’s strange, being in the
house that had once been his home. There are no pictures of his parents or aunt up, any
longer. He doesn’t think Momo took them down; she’s so delusional, she would leave
everything up. Gin will never know what drew his aunt to Aizen, but he does know his father
found him annoying. Barely human had been the phrase; or maybe it was barely amphibian.
Memory is a funny beast, and Gin supposes that it’s possible that he made up his father’s
dislike for Aizen, as a sort of coping mechanism. Who could blame me?

He looks around the second floor, following Momo as he walks by his cousins’ rooms. She
opens the door to his old room, and steps in, smiling at him. “Ta-da!” She opens her arms and
raises them in a ‘V.’ Gin steps into his old room, looking around.

All of his things are still there, like nothing has changed. His bed is made, the same navy
comforter and sky-blue sheets. All of his books are organized into his neat little system, and
his poster of Jean-Paul Sartre, which makes him cringe on the inside, is still up. Rangiku had
asked him why he wanted an ugly man on his wall, and Gin replied that all men are ugly.
You’re not ugly, she said, popping her pink bubblegum. He turned away, swooning on the
inside because not only did she think him a man, but not an ugly one, maybe even a
handsome one.

She had been sitting on his desk while he was organizing his books. He frowns, thinking of
who he wanted to be at sixteen and who he ended up becoming at the age of twenty-four. He
didn’t think he’d be in this room, with Momo trying to be his surrogate mother. It both
amuses and depresses him.

“I wash the sheets every few months and dust, but other than that, everything is just how you
left it.” She smiles at Gin. He wonders if she knows that he and Aizen are related by
marriage. He doubts she would like him as much if she knew that he doesn’t share a common
ancestor with the man she worships.
“Thank you,” he says, unsure of how to feel. It feels very claustrophobic in this house, like
the walls are moving in, ready to crush him.

“You can come back here, if you’d like,” Momo says, “there is always a place for you here.
This place will always be your home.” God, I hope not, he thinks to himself. He pulls his face
into a smile, the kind he knows unnerved her back in high school. Momo looks at him and
grins back, with complete sincerity. It’s how he knows that she is completely ensnared.

When he gets back to Rangiku’s apartment, he heads straight for the bathroom and makes
himself sick. He looks into the toilet, at the bile and phlegm and partially digested food, and
thinks about how happy Momo is to be trapped.

**

Rangiku knows Gin likes her because he keeps coming back to her. That’s why it was so easy
for her to wait for him. Six hours and six years feel the same when it’s Gin she is waiting for.
She leaves the diner at a decent hour and tries not to think of how she smells like grease and
meat. She bought burgers for dinner and got extra onion rings for Gin.

He called the diner and asked if he should walk her home. Rangiku glowed on the inside, but
she said no, because she wants to surprise him. Living with him, so far, has been one of the
easiest experiences in her life. She likes getting to wake up to him and wear his clothes. Gin
makes very good coffee, and he is an exceptionally clean person. He doesn’t make her feel
bad for being a mess. Gin laughed when she accidentally used his toothbrush this morning.
He pressed his lips to the beauty mark on her chin and sucked the dribble of toothpaste up,
leaving a hickey on her chin.

Rangiku pokes the spot, which she covered with concealer. She smiles to herself, thinking
about Gin. While in dreamland, Shuuhei sidles up to her, making her jump when she sees
him.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she asks. He smirks.

“I’m hoping to take you for a drink.” He says, looking at the paper bag in her hand. “Do you
have plans?”

“Yes,” she says, “I have dinner plans.”

“Burgers at home?” Shuuhei snorts. Rangiku frowns.

“Gin is at home.” She says, “I am permanently unavailable.”

“Whoa,” he says, “I was just asking you out for a drink.”

“You never want to just have a drink.” Rangiku drawls, “you always want more.”
 “We can be friends,” Shuuhei says, “friends can fuck.”

“I’m permanently unavailable to you for fucking,” she says, “I’m with Gin now.”

“Oh, is he planning on staying?” he asks. Rangiku glares.

“Kick rocks, Shuuhei.” He snorts when she stomps off towards home.

Chapter End Notes

Here's an update. I plan on adding more to this story, as I am going through a very
Gin/Byakuya-esque crisis in my own academic 'career,' if it could be called that. I don't
expect this thing to be long, but I have a pretty good idea of how I want things to go.
Thank you for reading, please feel free to share your thoughts!
 Jaw
Chapter Summary

They're still happy.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“I swear I’m not angry, that’s just my face”

Phoebe Bridgers, “Punisher”

There is a very distinct hum that Rangiku’s fridge makes. Like the sound of her breathing or
the distant rumble of cars, Gin finds it very comforting. He lies on his stomach, reaching for
his phone before the alarm can go off. It hasn’t been very long, but he has trained himself to
wake up before his alarm, so that he can turn it off before it wakes her up. She can be very
whiney in the morning.

He rolls onto his back, and frowns when he sees Rangiku eyeballing him. His mother would
refer to the look as ‘the hairy eyeball.’

“It’s Saturday.” She says in an unimpressed voice.

“And?” he replies.

“So, why are you waking up so early?” she sighs, “just stay in bed with me.” Gin looks down
at her.

“You’re very pathetic.”

“So?” she says, “I’m pretty and that’s what matters.”

“I don’t care how pretty you are,” he hums, “I am still getting out of bed and going on my
jog.”

“You’re no fun!” Rangiku huffs and rolls over onto her stomach, taking the covers with her.
Gin smiles to himself and gets out of bed.
 **

Gin knew this had to happen at some point. You can’t live in a town of two thousand people
and not run into everyone. He’s surprised that there is still enough money for a school. This is
a small town, but they are bigger than surrounding towns, so all the kids get bussed in here.
Gin is in the park, reading, when he senses a presence over him. He looks up, and frowns
when it is none other than Izuru above him.

His hair is shoulder length, pushed back behind his ears. Izuru still carries himself like a
subordinate, although he stands straighter now. Gin was never the boss in their relationship,
so much as Izuru preferred to defer to him. Gin never asked for it. The dynamic just
happened.

“You’re back,” Izuru says. He looks unimpressed.

“Yep.” Gin replies, closing his book. There is a lot that he wants to say, but like Rangiku, the
relief of Izuru simply speaking to him is enough to erase everything from the past six years
he has wanted to talk about.

“Were you ever going to come find me?” Izuru asks.

“I thought it would be best to let you come to me.” Gin replies. Izuru looks annoyed and
crosses his arms.

“We should get a drink,” he says. Gin tilts his head.

“Should we?”

“Yes,” Izuru says, “I want an explanation.”

“An explanation.” Gin doesn’t mean to sound like an asshole, it’s just that it’s hilarious that
Rangiku let him have unprotected sex with her twenty minutes after coming back into town,
and Izuru wants an explanation and, presumably, an apology.

“Yes,” Izuru says, “a compelling one, preferably.”

“They don’t teach you to be compelling in grad school,” Gin says. Izuru’s lip twitches, which
is how Gin knows he’s trying not to smile.

“Grad school.”

“It’s a good way to piss away your twenties,” Gin says, “ask Byakuya.”

“I avoid him,” Izuru says. There is a lull in their conversation, and Gin can tell that he is
going to leave soon.

“Maybe we could get lunch?” Gin offers. “Ran works at the diner.”
“So, you’re calling her Ran again?” Izuru smirks.

“I’ll disregard that,” Gin says, “I’ll buy you lunch on Thursday, at noon.” Izuru nods.

“No running away this time.” He says, “Rangiku puked on me at prom, when she realized
you weren’t going to show up.” Gin frowns. He and Rangiku haven’t really discussed the
damage his departure did to her. It’s hard to talk about it, because there is no good excuse for
what he put her through, and they both know it.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Gin says. Izuru nods and walks away, leaving Gin to think about
whether or not he ever wants Rangiku to tell him about what she did after he left. He’s
unsurprised to find that the answer is no, not really.

**

Step on a crack, break your mother’s back, step on a line, break your mother’s spine. Rangiku
doesn’t recall when she learned this rhyme, but she does remember being nine years old and
cupping her hand to Gin’s ear and whispering it. They had been in her backyard, and he had
been about to step on a crack in the concrete of her parent’s deck. He told her that his mother
had died when her spine snapped in a car accident.

She had said ‘oh.’ Gin shrugged and sipped his lemonade. Rangiku stares up at the crack in
the ceiling of the diner. She pulled the early morning shift today. Gin came in from his
morning jog as she woke up. I wanted to wake up to you, she yawned. Gin had wordlessly
smiled at her, before stripping and walking into the bathroom. She had sat up and scratched
her head. Gin isn’t very talkative in the morning. Since beginning work at the school, he has
less and less time for her. When she stepped into the shower with him, they actually bathed.
She was less than impressed when he handed her the bar of soap, as he brushed his teeth.

There is one large crack that cuts across the ceiling. When he dropped her off at work, Gin
noted that small towns are the only place where such things are charming. Rangiku thinks
about how strange it would be to live in a town without charming, rundown bits. She can’t
imagine it.

“What are you thinking about?” Juushirou asks, drinking his morning coffee while reading
his paper. He used to teach at the school, before he became sick. Byakuya had replaced him.
She has Juushirou to thank for that regrettable affair.

“Small town charm.” She walks over to the coffee machine and picks up a coffee pot, before
walking over to him. She smiles at her. He is one of the few people who always has a genuine
smile.

“Charm.” He hums, “you mean flaws.” Rangiku smiles.

“Only flawed things can be charming.” She winks, pouring coffee into his cup. He smiles,
before turning back to his paper. He is one of the prettiest men she has ever seen, and other
than Toushirou, is the only one who has no interest in her looks. She suspects some of his
beauty comes from his asexuality and fragile constitution. Like he is too delicate for this
world. Ethereal is the word.

Rangiku looks up when the door chime goes off. She sighs when Byakuya walks in, his little
sister Rukia in tow. Rangiku hasn’t told Gin about the specifics, but she suspects that he
knows about Byakuya. He hasn’t said anything, but she can hear it in his voice when he says
his name. Byakuya had been someone she regularly slept with. They never called or texted;
he simply showed up at her door when he felt like it.

She appreciates that he never deluded himself into believing that she really ever wanted him.
He was very gentlemanly. As soon as he got the mere inkling that he was unwelcome, he
went away.

Byakuya stands at the register, as Rukia heads towards Juushirou. In a rare moment of
vulnerability, Byakuya said he came back for her. He didn’t like Aizen being so close to his
kid sister. He finds it impossible to express in words, but he loves Rukia so much that he
came back here.

He doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to take his order. “One medium black coffee.” There
is only one kind of coffee beans used here, but she knows that he prefers dark roast. “And a
small hot chocolate.”

“$ 5.25, please.” She says, knowing the cost of his order off the top of her head as she enters
it on the register. Byakuya takes out his wallet and fishes out the money. He doesn’t exchange
any pleasantries, silent as she mentions that she has had a nice day and that she hates the
rainy weather outside.

As she gets his order ready, Rangiku eyes the cinnamon sugar donuts on the counter. She
knows that Gin only had a granola bar for breakfast, and she wants to be a good girlfriend.
Do cutesy, domestic things. She opens the case, and puts two donuts into a paper bag, and
sets it down next to Byakuya’s coffee. He blinks, before looking at her.

“I didn’t order those.” He says, sounding unimpressed. A little irritated, like she is burdening
him.

“I know,” she says, “I want you to take one to Gin, and I put an extra one in the bag for you.”
She smiles brightly at him, while his face remains impassive.

“Gin likes donuts.” He states, unconvinced. Byakuya doesn’t know Gin very well, nor does
he want to, but he has never seen him eat sweets.

“Who doesn’t like donuts?” she asks. Byakuya looks down at the bag, as Rukia comes to pick
up her hot chocolate.

“Rukia,” he says, “you can have one of the donuts in the bag if you carry it for me.” He
leaves a 50% tip, not acknowledging Rangiku’s smile.
 **

Gin never envisioned standing at the front of his old classroom, teaching English. Juushirou
had been his teacher, and he would have to ignore Rangiku making cootie catchers and
playing with his pencil case. He wouldn’t even tell her to stop distracting him, because that
meant she would have won. When they read Hamlet, she told him that he was sort of like the
character. You both stay in your heads and don’t tell the people who love you what’s going on
inside of you. Gin asked her if she was comparing herself to Ophelia, and if so, do you know
the Ophelia drowns herself because of Hamlet? Rangiku had nodded, and Gin told her that he
would never forgive her if she hurt herself. Don’t make me. He told her that she is twisted,
she shot back that he is creepy. It hurt his feelings, so he walked home and didn’t talk to her
for a week.

She cut her shin open climbing into his window in one of her short, pink sundresses. He
watched the blood seep out of her as she walked over to him, as he sat on his bed. I’m sorry,
I’m so sorry Gin. She looked surprised when he pointed out the cut on her leg. He didn’t have
any big bandages, so they used, like, ten band-aids to cover the cut.

Her tan leg was on his lap, when she moved, and kissed him for the first time. It had been
weird, until it felt right. They didn’t tell anyone, but it didn’t seem to matter. Her parents
started insisting on her leaving her bedroom door open and Aizen told him to use condoms. It
had been embarrassing at the time, because they were just discovering each other, and
everyone around them was taking the fun out of it.

By the time Hamlet was planning the play within the play, they discovered the back of
Aizen’s car. They had been friends, until they were more, and they went fast.

Gin doesn’t like this play, for a few reasons. But whenever he reads it, he thinks of Rangiku.
He blinks, looking back at his pupils. They aren’t particularly bright, but they don’t have to
be. They are here to learn, and you don’t have to be smart to do that.

Byakuya gave him a donut from Rangiku this morning. It sits on his desk, uneaten. He
doesn’t want to be that person, but he likes having something she touched close by. If he ate
it, his tether to her would be gone. Gin frowns at himself, deciding to eat it when he’s hungry.
He faces his class and tucks the book under his arm.

“Hamlet is, perhaps, one of the most well-known and influential protagonists in the English
language.” He says, “does anyone have any idea why that is?” It is a bush league question.
Completely uninteresting. The kind of questioning that rots the brain. Nonetheless, Gin has to
get these kids speaking, somehow. “I’ll select one of you at random.” He knows this won’t
work, but at least they can’t say he didn’t warn them.
He eyes his students. Most of them are charming, in their own way. Keigo is an imbecile.
Orihime and Tatsuki have good at impulse control. Chad is fine. Uryu is grating, but his crush
on Orihime is entertaining to watch, since she only sees Ichigo.

And Ichigo, ever oblivious to her affection, only seems to notice Rukia, and that is because
she never has anything nice to say to him. Gin selects the student whose answer will provide
him with the most entertainment.

“Ichigo,” Gin says, “what do you think of Hamlet?”

“The play or the character?” Ichigo replies. He’s not a moron, when he applies himself, but
he has a belligerent way of speaking.

“The character.” Do you even listen?

“Well, I think Hamlet is kind of stupid.” Ichigo says. Gin smirks.

“And why do you say that?” he asks. “Give me an example from the text that illustrates his
stupidity.”

“He thinks too much,” Ichigo replies. Gin snorts.

“What?”

“He spends all his time thinking, and plotting, and scheming, but he never gets it right.”
Ichigo shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “For someone who spends all his time thinking, he is
pretty oblivious. He’s so stupid, everyone is dead by the end of the play.”

“Interesting,” Gin remarks, “would anyone like to respond to Ichigo?” Rukia puts her hand
up immediately, and he can tell that she is going to say the kind of bitchy thought that
Byakuya would keep to himself. Gin has a thing for chaos, so he gestures towards her.
“Rukia?”

“Ichigo, you only say that because you don’t think it all.” She replies, smirking when Ichigo
glares at her from over his shoulder.

“Do you have any evidence?” Gin asks innocently. “From the text,” he clarifies, before Rukia
can list whatever Ichigo did to piss her off today.

“Well, Hamlet has a lot to think about,” she says. “His father’s ghost manifests and tells him
that his uncle committed fratricide in order to marry his sister-in-law and take the Danish
throne. His girlfriend has a nosey, scheming father and an overprotective brother. His friends,
except Horatio, aren’t even very good friends. He is trying to feign madness.” She pauses to
rubs her lips together, thinking. “If I were him, I would be in my head all the time.”

“So, why do you think he is so influential?” Gin asks, interested. Rukia looks surprised, since
he has never taken interest in anything she has ever had to say. He holds a hand up when
Ichigo tries to re-inject himself into the conversation.
“Because his brain is always on,” she says, “he’s a compelling protagonist because he hums
with inner life. Like he wants to crawl out of the play, but he can’t.” She blinks. Gin tilts his
head. It’s not a very Byakuya answer. Perhaps, he thinks, you have an inner world
independent of your brother. Gin will never stop laughing if it’s Byakuya’s kid sister who
ends up getting out of this shit hole town.

“Let’s start there,” he says turning to the board. “How does Shakespeare present Hamlet’s
inner world to the audience?”

He thinks about Rangiku’s injured leg and decides to rediscover the scar tonight.

**

There is never a rush time at the diner. Time just stretches forward. Busy is having more than
ten people in here at a time. The food isn’t very good, and people prefer to get their coffee
and donuts and leave. It means that Rangiku spends most of her days waiting for someone to
come in and entertain her.

More often than not, that person is Kenpachi, the police chief of this fine town of two
thousand and some souls. There is never anything to do here, especially when school starts.
Kenpachi, bored, walked into the diner and sat down at the counter, holding his hands out.

“Have pink nail polish?” he asks. He knows it will make his daughter, Yachiru, smile when
he picks her up from school.

“For you? Anything.” Rangiku snaps her gum, picking up her pink nail polish from below the
counter. She unscrews the cap and takes Kenpachi’s big hand in her own. A warm strawberry
milkshake is by her elbow, and she will occasionally lean over to suck on the straw, despite
the gum in her mouth.

Kenpachi isn’t blind, neither is he stupid. It is obvious that Rangiku has loved Gin ever since
he first showed up in town when he was eight. Kenpachi worked with Rangiku’s dad and
went with them to drop her off at school. Gin was standing there, with Aizen’s hand in his,
with a sullen expression. When he saw Rangiku, he had smiled, and she bounded up to him.
She immediately started following him around.

It had been sad to watch her when he left. Her father told Kenpachi that it felt like his
daughter was faraway, even though she was still here. They became drinking buddies, and
Kenpachi would wince every time some poor sucker hit on her. She was always looking for
Gin, waiting for him to walk through the door of the bar. It doesn’t matter who she went
home with; she was always waiting for the same person.

She’s smiling again, and Kenpachi knows it’s because Gin is back. He has a job at the school,
suggesting some permanency. “This shit smells disgusting.” Kenpachi says.
“If you want to look good, you don’t get to complain.” She dips the brush back into the
bottle. Neither of them looks over when the door chime rings, or when they hear footsteps
walking towards them, or when Renji plops down beside Kenpachi.

“I haven’t seen you around, Ran.” Renji says. Kenpachi smirks, as Rangiku shrugs. Her nose
twitches at the way he casually refers to her as Ran. Kenpachi knows it makes her itchy when
someone other than Gin or Toushirou call her that.

“I’m busy,” she says.

“Painting Kenpachi’s nails?” Renji asks. Rangiku pauses to look at him like he’s stupid.
Which is to say, she sees him for who he is (yet she fucked him anyway). Kenpachi will
never not find it funny that Rangiku let Renji have sex with her. It’s even funnier that he
carries a torch for her. Sucker.

“Someone has to keep him beautiful,” she says, “he is our police chief.”

“I’m an important man,” Kenpachi hums.

“Do you have any idea when Gin is going to pay his parking tickets?” Renji asks, “the fines
will just pile up, the longer he puts it off.”

“I’ll mention it to him tonight,” Rangiku says.

“Is he planning on sticking around?” Renji asks, “if he is, he should get a parking permit.”
Kenpachi snorts loudly.

“You really are in a league of your own pal.” Kenpachi says, looking at Renji. He looks like
he wants to say something rude, but he isn’t stupid enough to disrespect his boss.

“He’s a teacher now,” she says, “he can’t just leave those kids with Byakuya and Aizen.
Renji’s mouth twitches at the name of the former.

“You should get it in writing,” he says, before standing up and walking off. Kenpachi cackles
as Rangiku rolls her eyes.

**

When they were teenagers, Gin’s conversations with Izuru were mostly long silences,
punctuated by brief exchanges. Sitting across from him at the diner, Gin is comforted by the
fact that this hasn’t changed. Izuru sticks a fry into his ketchup, with a thoughtful look on his
face. “Want to know how I found out you were back?” Izuru asks, sticking a fry into his
mouth. Gin shrugs in response. “Your parking tickets.”

“I forgot about those,” Gin replies.

“The fines are adding up,” Izuru says. He also became a cop, something that Gin didn’t really
expect. He thought Izuru would be a bureaucrat, starting as a clerk in city hall and working
his way up the ladder. “You really pissed off Renji.”

“I walked out of Ran’s apartment. We were never going to be friends.” Gin says, sipping the
milkshake Rangiku insisted on giving him. It was her half-melted one, in a paper cup. I don’t
want to waste it! What made Gin laugh was that she thought she needed to justify giving him
her leftovers. In all honesty, if she weren’t around, he’d be living on toast, peanut butter,
apples, beer and multivitamins.

“He said as much,” Izuru says, “you should buy a parking pass. Renji knows your license
plate.”

“Imagine the things that man could accomplish if he didn’t waste his time being so petty.”
Izuru snorts, because Renji is one of the pettiest bastards he has ever met. He is surprised by
how much fun he is having with Gin. He had wanted to remain cool and aloof, but after a few
minutes, six years felt like no time at all.

“Speaking of wasting time,” Izuru says, “how did you fall into teaching?” Gin hums.

“Those who can’t do, teach.” He looks over at the counter and catches Rangiku’s eye. Gin
smiles, genuinely, and Izuru turns to look over his shoulder. He smiles when he sees who Gin
is looking at.

“She missed you a lot.” Izuru turns back to look at Gin. “You can’t run off again.” Gin
frowns, because he has been told this too many times to count.

“I’m not planning on it.” Gin says. The door chimes, and they watch Urahara saunter in. He
walks up to the counter and chats up Rangiku, who cheerfully dismisses his overtures. Izuru
catches Gin smirking.

“You’re very secure in your relationship.” He picks up a fry and pops it into his mouth.

“Well, when you find the one,” Gin hums, trailing off. He throws in a shrug for good
measure. Izuru rolls his eyes, and then they return to a comfortable silence.

**

Rangiku and Toushirou sit on a yellow blanket. She stretches her long legs, pointing her toes
towards the playground in front of them. He lies down on his back, an open file over his face.
Momo and Aizen’s youngest, a boy, lies down between them, while Momo takes her daughter
on the slide. The baby is snoozing, utterly at peace with the world, drool dripping from the
corner of his mouth. Rangiku smiles at him. She’d pick him up, but he looks comfortable
where he is.
Gin told her about his bedroom back at Aizen’s place. She, Izuru and Toushirou were already
worried about Momo, so Gin’s story just added to the big knot in her gut when she thinks of
her friend. She watches Momo hold up her daughter, babbling at her, and for a second,
doesn’t notice the bags under her eyes or the way her body seems to sag, even though she is
so thin. Rangiku can’t remember the last time she saw Momo eat a real meal. She buys food
and picks at it. Momo never actually eats it.

“Do you think she’ll ever be alright?” Rangiku asks. Toushirou lifts the folder off of his face,
and squints.

“Not if she stays with him.” It’s like Aizen is eating her from the inside out. Momo is half of
who she was, which means she is also a fraction of who she could have been. She had a nice
scholarship and a bright future. She gave it all up. Her parents don’t speak to her any longer,
and they moved away a year ago.

Momo always complains about having aches and pains. Her jaw is tight, there are knots in
her back. She needs to go on walks to ‘clear her head’ and she gets lots of headaches. It’s just
my nerves, she’ll say. She sounds so much older than twenty-four. When she isn’t being
completely clueless to the feelings of other people, Momo always says things like I’m just
such an idiot or it’s all my fault. She’s been telling Toushirou and Rangiku how she is trying
to convince Aizen to go on a vacation, just the two of them. So, we can remember why we fell
in love.

“He is going to kill her,” Rangiku says softly. Toushirou holds his face tight and says nothing.

**

As someone who completed a graduate degree in literature and philosophy, not only does he
have a firm grasp on the history of ideas in the West, but Gin also has an excellent
understanding of just how casually stupid most people are. A good number of the people in
his program were hacks with an inflated sense of self-importance, who spoke artlessly and
acted thoughtlessly. Many of them thought that they were dynamic individuals, when most of
them were very, very boring.

Gin stands in front of his English class, watching Ichigo attempt to formulate a rebuttal to
Rukia’s insistence that Hamlet isn’t an idiot. He yawns, watching the vein on Ichigo’s
forehead pop.

“You only think he’s smart because he’s twisted like you!” Ichigo shouts. Everyone giggles at
Rukia’s expense, and she flushes pink.

“Ichigo, that’s not an example from the text,” Gin says. “Do you have any actual evidence
that suggests that Hamlet is stupid?” Somewhere, his thesis supervisor has a massive
headache. That man invested years of his life into me, read hundreds of pages of my drivel,
all for me to end up here. It took three years for Gin to understand that postmodernism is a
periodizing concept i.e., that whatever we are living in now is whatever is supposed to come
after it. That’s why the name sucks. Post-postmodernism sounds stupid, and hellscape is too
general a term. He watches Ichigo turn the pages of his book, looking for a particular scene.

“Ha!” He exclaims, “I found it!”

“Go on.” Gin thinks about the beer he is going to drink tonight. It’s Friday, so he and Rangiku
are going to go drinking. Maybe we’ll get drunk and she’ll joke about making a baby. Gin
would do it, if she asked. It’s only been a few months, but Gin never claimed to be rational
when it comes to their relationship. He just looks sane in comparison to her.

“Act one, scene four: Hamlet follows the ghost, even though his friends warn him that it
could be a trap, and not his actual father,” Ichigo thumps the page.

“Lines?” Gin asks. Ichigo looks at the book again.

“Lines thirty-six to forty-one. Horatio and Marcellus.” Ichigo makes a face at Rukia, as Gin
flips to the section in question.

“An interesting interpretation of the events,” he hums, “but what would you propose Hamlet
do, instead of following the ghost?”

“What do you mean?” Ichigo asks. Gin blinks at him.

“If Hamlet is stupid, for following the ghost of his father—”

“He doesn’t know that for sure,” Ichigo interjects.

“For the purposes of this discussion,” Gin says, “the ghost is his father.” He feels a headache
coming on. “Where is the stupidity in that decision?” Ichigo blink at Gin, and he feels his
patience wear thin. “Okay, Ichigo, let me put it this way: how could Hamlet act in any other
way?”

“He could just not go—”

“Don’t be a simpleton,” Gin says, making Rukia smirk. “I want you to think through this
question. If Hamlet is stupid, and his stupidity is his defining trait that drives the action of the
play, what else could he have done? What are you suggesting that he could have done
differently?” This is speculation, not close reading. Gin is pretty sure his thesis supervisor is
having a heart attack somewhere. Gin is supposed to be doing doctoral research on Nabokov,
not teaching Shakespeare to high school students. Oh well. Nabokov liked Shakespeare,
which is good enough for him.

“He could have gone home.”

“Then there would be no play,” Rukia says, without raising her hand. Gin nods in agreement,
making her beam. “But,” she says, “it’s not that Hamlet is stupid, so much as the situation he
is in is inherently maddening.” She opens her book. “Act one, scene five, line sixty-five:
‘something is rotten in the state of Denmark.’ We see this theme of rot and decay when the
ghost says that Hamlet’s mother and uncle are committing incest. It’s not that Hamlet is
stupid, so much as he is placed in the kind of situation where stupidity cannot be helped.”
Rukia has a shit-eating grin on her face. “At least, that’s the argument I would make, Ichigo.”
Gin grins when he sees Ichigo clench his jaw.

“Interesting,” Gin says, “you’ve almost convinced me, Rukia.” She beams at him, while
Ichigo glowers.

**

Gin was never old enough to drink when he lived here the first time around, so the dive bar
everyone frequents is a genuine novelty to him. He looks at the basket of popcorn in front of
him, while Rangiku orders their drinks. When she’s finished, she smiles when she sees Gin
look at the popcorn.

“Is this the first time you’ve been to a bar with free popcorn?” she asks, taking a handful.

“You have to pay so much at movie theatres,” he hums. She smiles her big, winning smile at
him, and it makes him feel gooey inside. “So, how was your day?”

“Boring,” she says, “Kenpachi didn’t come in to visit me, and Toushirou has been in a mood
ever since we hung out with Momo in the park.” Gin is well-aware of Toushirou’s crush on
Momo—back in high school, they all were. He can’t imagine how he felt when he found out
about Aizen. Toushirou probably put his fist through a wall.

“She is very pathetic.” Gin says. Rangiku makes a face at his word choice, but he really isn’t
wrong.

“There are nicer words to describe her,” Rangiku says. Gin tilts his head, because wretched,
pitiable and contemptible aren’t nicer words. There are no nice words to describe what is
happening to Momo.

“She is very sad,” he says. Rangiku nods, desperately trying to think of something else to talk
about.

Their drinks arrive, and Gin watches Rangiku take a sip. “You okay?” he asks. He knows it is
hard for her to watch Momo struggle. He watches her throat bulge as she swallows.

“I’m good,” she replies, “I’d just rather talk about something other than Momo.”

“Want to know about the kid Byakuya’s kid sister is tormenting?” he asks. Rangiku grins.

“Do I ever.”
 **

Rangiku drinks a lot. He’d been warned by Izuru, of course, and he could tell by all the
bottles and nights where he would doze off on the couch grading while she was out with
Kenpachi. He never completely relaxes into sleep but more than once, he has woken up to her
curled into his side, in some impossible position. Her hangovers aren’t even bad. She drinks
water and sleeps all day. Gin is loath to admit this, but he doesn’t think she ever looks ugly,
even when there is vomit on the corner of her mouth. He wipes it away, of course, but it
doesn’t bother him.

They’ve had a very nice night. Gin feels buzzed and floaty, and he smiles to himself as
Rangiku holds his hand for stability. It feels very normal, getting drunk and walking home
together. He’d like to do things like this more often. She’s giggling about something
Toushirou said at the bar. He’s had other girlfriends, but he never loved any of them like this.

“I really like you,” Gin says, out of nowhere. Rangiku squeezes his hand.

“I really like you too,” she says. “I like you so much, I want to eat your pimples.” She
hiccups, and giggles at her own joke.

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep,” he hums. Rangiku guffaws, stopping to bend over
and laugh. “What is so funny?”

“I waited,” she gasps, “for six years, having sex that made me feel lonely and getting drunk
with fucking Kenpachi…I mean, Gin, I fucked Byakuya and Renji and Urahara and Shuuhei
and Shuunsei, and they all sucked. Every orgasm felt like murder.” She laughs even harder,
and Gin frowns, wondering if she has actually lost it. “I waited for you for six years, and you
think I wouldn’t actually eat your pimples? You think that’s where I would draw the line in
my devotion?” Rangiku starts breathing deeply, to try and calm herself down. Gin watches
her, head tilted, frowning. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”

“No,” he says, “it’s just weird that you like me so much.” Not even his mother, may she rest
in peace, loved him so much. Rangiku hiccups.

“It’s because I love you, dummy.” She says, not even thinking. Gripping his hand, she
precedes to haul him along, but he stands still. She looks back, concerned. “What is it?”

“You love me?”

“Duh,” she replies, stomping her foot. “C’mon, let’s go home.” Gin stands there, gripping her
hand tightly.

“That’s the first time you’ve said it,” he says in a quiet voice. Rangiku hums.

“Haven’t I proved it?” she says, “I feel like it’s self-evident.” Gin looks troubled.
 “What if I don’t feel the same way?” he asks. Her face falls slightly, but her eyes are still
bright.

“If that were the case, you wouldn’t have come back,” she says softly. Pressing her palm to
his, she makes him feel all of her love.

“I love you.” He says in a guarded voice. He hasn’t said that to anyone but his dead mother.
Rangiku smiles. I know.

Chapter End Notes

Gin and Byakuya's contempt for grad school and disillusion with academia is my own.
LOL.
 Molar
Chapter Summary

Bright and happy.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“The future’s unwritten the past is a corridor”

Phoebe Bridgers, “Smoke Signals”

Gin stands at the blackboard, watching his students blink back at him. He is trying to teach
them how to write an essay. They’ve been taught the standard hamburger method: hook,
introduction, thesis, three body paragraphs, the first being the weakest, second being the best
and the third being middling, followed by a restatement of the thesis and a conclusion.

The hamburger method isn’t bad, if you want to think in hamburger. But to advance beyond
that level of inquiry, you have to learn how to think beyond hamburger logic. You can’t
actually make an argument from anything; your evidence must be compelling and well-
integrated. Writing shows a lot about how people think, and it is very easy to tell when
someone doesn’t have a plan or fully thought through their argument. You can tell when
someone uses a thesaurus to appear smarter and to fill the word count. Gin doesn’t really care
for word count: if you can give a clear, strong, cohesive argument in fewer words, you
deserve a medal. But he never wants anything to go over the word count. Those papers read
like every idea made the cut and look, not every one is good enough, it’s just a fact of life.

He lost his students when he said that all they need to do is choose a quote and build around
it. Gin won’t tell them what to do; it is up to each student to select a passage that they would
like to respond to. All he asks is that they think before they write, and to hand in a paper that
doesn’t read like it just happened.

“But all things happen,” Ichigo says. Gin sighs.

“Your paper should read like you thought it through before writing it. Like it was
intentional.” All he asks is for some evidence of thought.

“Well, yeah,” Ichigo says, “but it has to happen, eventually.”

“I have no interest in arguing semantics with you,” Gin says, “all you have to do is select a
quote, write it down, build an argument around it and present it with compelling evidence
from the text.”

Ichigo opens his mouth again, and Gin feels himself lose his patience.

**

Kenpachi, without fail, comes in every day for a donut. Rangiku has it ready for him before
he enters. The chime goes off, and she smiles when he walks in. He is whistling to himself, in
a good mood.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he says.

“You must be bored,” she replies, holding out his donut. Kenpachi takes the bag from her,
and grins.

“You would be right,” he says, “what does a man got to do to get a little intrigue around
here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she replies, “I’m the law-abiding type.” Kenpachi reaches into his pocket
and hands her a bill. She hums as she rings him up, and they both look up when the chime
goes off and Urahara walks into the diner. She has ignored him since Gin’s return. The truth
is that she has always felt indifferent towards him, but she knows he won’t leave her alone if
she doesn’t give him the cold shoulder.

She could use her words, but in her experience, Urahara is an expert at hearing what he wants
to hear. Byakuya and Shuunsei were the only ones who knew what was up. Renji and
Shuuhei were each infatuated with her, and Urahara is always the type to press his luck.

“Kenpachi, Rangiku,” he says, “it’s a beautiful day.”

“It’s boring,” Kenpachi says, sticking some donut into his mouth, “go and commit a crime so
I can arrest you.”

“All due respect chief,” Urahara says, “I prefer my freedom.”

“Not even to get Rangiku’s attention?” he asks, grinning evilly. Urahara smirks.

“What crime does a guy need to commit to get your attention, Rangiku?” he asks. She gives
them both an unimpressed look.

“You’d have to hurt Gin, and if you did that, I would run you over with my dad’s pick up.”
She says this as she looks at her nails. “You will never be able to do anything that could make
me ignore Gin.” Kenpachi cackles at Urahara’s expense, as he orders a coffee. Unlike
Kenpachi, Rangiku makes him pay first.
 **

Aizen does a lot of things that irritate Byakuya and Gin. The way he insists on having
manners, when he is easily the cruelest person either of them know. The way he smiles at
them when they enter the office, like they are all on friendly terms. The way he makes them
both feel like they are little kids when he references their past failings. It’s like Aizen will
never forget that Gin got a B on a mid-term or the B- he gave Byakuya back when he was in
high school. Very accomplished people don’t like records of their failings to be easily
accessible. B grades aren’t what Gin or Byakuya are accustomed to, and Aizen knows that
despite their cool demeanors, nothing scares either of them more than not being good enough.

Which is funny, because if anyone were to objectively evaluate who the real failure is, it
would be none other than Aizen. Byakuya is avoidant and Gin is tricky, but neither of them
are emotionally vacant. If you peeled back Aizen’s skin, cracked his ribcage and searched for
his heart, there would be nothing there.

Momo makes Aizen lunch. Every day, he comes in with a bright blue lunch box, puts it in the
fridge, and ignores it. Neither Gin nor Byakuya would care, if Momo hadn’t started bringing
Aizen lunch. You don’t eat what I pack you, so I wonder if you just forget that it’s there. She
always has those two kids strapped into the stroller, who blink at Gin and Byakuya, who try
very hard not listen to Momo beg for Aizen to acknowledge her. He will look at the
sandwich, say thank you, go to the fridge, open his lunchbox, and then stick the new
sandwich in with the old one, before putting it all away again. He’ll wave Momo off
condescendingly and go back to work.

Byakuya and Gin are so sick of this song and dance, that one day, they just take Aizen’s
lunch box with them and empty it in the cafeteria. They know he doesn’t care, and in all
likelihood, he is probably happy that they are making his life easier. I can’t watch this
anymore, Byakuya had said, throwing the carefully sliced strawberries into the trash.

Today, they decide to actually eat it. Momo isn’t a bad cook, and neither of them are the kind
of people who pack lunch. It’s usually just coffee and water, maybe a banana or an orange.
They sit on opposite ends of the bench in front of the school, Aizen’s lunch box between
them. Byakuya picks up a container. Gin watches him frown when he opens it. Byakuya
shows Gin its contents. Cucumbers cut into stars. Gin reaches into the lunch box and pulls
out the first sandwich, and the second sandwich Momo delivered this morning. Both are heart
shaped.

Byakuya wrinkles his nose when Gin hands him a sandwich. “That is pathetic.”

“Pitiable,” Gin replies, “that’s the word you’re look for.” Byakuya takes the sandwich, and
they both stare at the heart shaped sandwiches. It would be easier if Momo had some obvious
flaw, beyond loving Aizen. Neither of them knows why they look for a reason, when they
know that there is no sense in evil. Aizen’s cruelty has no logic; more often than not, it’s on a
whim.
They don’t say how they feel to each other, because neither of them cares to know how the
other feels. But their feelings are similar. If someone treated Rukia with such contempt,
Byakuya, who was the quarterback, would send them through a wall. Gin would destroy
entire worlds if someone treated Rangiku with such cruelty. Hell, he’d do it for far less.

They both look over when they hear a siren, and they watch as Renji and Izuru pull up in
their cruiser. Renji puts the car in park and sticks his head and shoulder out the window,
smiling at them.

“Are you two on a date?” he asks. Gin shrugs and uses his serpentine grin. Byakuya’s face
doesn’t move. Izuru gets out of the car and walks over to where they sit.

“Renji and I are on lunch too,” Izuru says. Gin holds out his sandwich, uncomfortable with
the cliché of eating Momo’s metaphorical heart without her consent. Izuru tilts his head,
confused.

“Why is your sandwich shaped like a heart?” he asks.

“Don’t ask me,” Gin says, “it’s your sandwich now.”

“Byakuya,” Izuru says, “why is my sandwich shaped like a heart?”

“Because Momo made it for Aizen.” Byakuya replies. He doesn’t see the point in hiding the
truth. “You’re eating Aizen’s lunch?” Renji turns off the ignition and climbs out of the car.
Renji was on the football team with Byakuya. They are a few years older than Gin and Izuru,
and it’s strange to spend time with them.

“Aizen doesn’t eat it.” Gin says, “he brings his uneaten lunch home. Momo started bringing a
second one.”

People often ask Renji what he sees in Byakuya, the way that people ask Izuru what he sees
in Gin. They are both very cold people. But on the inside, they each have a human heart.
Byakuya tosses his sandwich to Renji, who looks down at it. You are really and truly down
on your luck when Byakuya and Gin can’t help but pity you. When possible, they prefer to
treat people with polite indifference.

Gin puts a star-shaped cucumber in his mouth. Momo gives Aizen metaphorical stars and
hearts, like that will change him. Renji and Izuru unwrap the sandwiches, sharing in the
miserable task of protecting whatever is left of Momo’s ego.

**

On Wednesday afternoons, Rangiku likes to pour herself a stiff drink, wear a slip and gauzy
shawls instead of actual clothing, and listen to Lana Del Rey. She has a lot of opinions on the
lyricism of Born to Die v. Norman Fucking Rockwell, and while she isn’t a stan she definitely
judges her sexual partners on their opinion of Lana (as Rangiku affectionately calls her—they
aren’t friends, but she feels like they would be). Renji shrugged when she asked. Urahara said
she has nice lips. Shuuhei wrinkled his nose. Shuunsei said that he liked her romanticism.
The best was when Byakuya let it slip that he thought her video for “National Anthem” was
amusing, when she dived over the back of the convertible like Jackie Kennedy, who had been
scrambling to collect the fragments of JFK’s head. It was the specificity that made her press
Byakuya for more information, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, he said that a girlfriend
liked Lana.

But he didn’t use the word girlfriend. Hisana likes Born to Die, he said softly, sipping his
coffee. Rangiku put two and two together to come up with the sum total of four. Me,
Byakuya, Gin and Hisana. She shakes out her hair and twirls around her apartment, clutching
her tumbler of gin.

Rangiku hums to herself—where have you been? Where did you go? Those summer nights
seem long ago-o. It’s a ballad, with oohs and ahs that mimic the desperate pull of running
towards your soulmate. Rangiku twirls, holding her gin aloft, singing, when she spins around
to see Gin staring at her. The song ends softly—and we were young and pretty.

He eyes her lack of clothing and the drink in her hand. It’s her day off, so he figured she’d be
drinking. He just didn’t think she would be alone.

“Busy day?” he asks, walking towards the kitchen sink to wash his hands. Rangiku smooths
her hair, attempting to maintain some dignity.

“No,” she says, “I was just putting on a show.”

“For who?” Gin asks, grinning. Rangiku puffs her cheeks.

“Myself.” She sips her drink, trying to seem aloof and mysterious. Gin smirks.

“You know, I had another girlfriend who really liked listening to Lana Del Rey. I know all
sorts of lyrics.” He reaches for a mug, watching Rangiku try and fail to contain her jealousy.

“So does Byakuya!” She retorts. Gin snorts at this one.

“Maybe he and I can discuss her lyrics. I am curious—how do you think he feels about that
line about a pussy tasting like Pepsi?” he asks. Rangiku frowns at him.

“I bet I’m prettier than her.” She says, “I have to be.” Rangiku has never met anyone hotter
than her. Granted, she lives in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m uglier than Byakuya and you still chose me.” Gin says, “looks don’t matter.” This really
ticks her off. She knows he’s kidding, but a little gratitude wouldn’t hurt.

“You’re an asshole,” she says, frowning. She sets her drink down, which is how he knows
that she is upset. Gin makes a noise in his throat and walks towards her.

“Are you really mad?” he asks. Rangiku nods.

“I don’t like to think about your other girlfriends,” she says. “I want to pretend that there has
only ever been me.” Gin frowns because, well, in his heart, it was only ever her. He has loved
other women, but he blossoms for Rangiku. She makes him sick.

He sets his empty mug down beside her tumbler and puts his hands on either side of her face.
He puts his face right up to her own and opens his eyes wide.

“You want to know a secret?” he asks quietly. Rangiku nods. “You’re the only girl I haven’t
used protection with.” It’s sort of gross to put it like that, but it’s the kind of nasty thing she
likes to hear.

“Really?”

“You’re the only girl I’ve eaten myself out of.” It’s because he wants to gobble her up.
Rangiku giggles.

“You’re such a perv,” she replies, “I like it.” Gin smiles and shrugs.

“Guilty as charged.” He lets go of her face and steps away. Rangiku thinks about following
him when he turns his back to her, but instead, she lets him walk away.

**

As a general rule, banks are terrible places. The grey carpets, the lines, the byzantine rules
and regulations. Gin has never enjoyed a single visit to a bank, and he can tell that his
feelings aren’t about to change. He stands behind Shuuhei, who gives him a cursory nod
before turning back to his phone. It’s comforting, knowing that people won’t force
themselves on him socially. He didn’t know what to expect when he came back; indifference
is all he wanted, really.

He’s here because he has a tiny inheritance that, due to some smart investment decisions on
the behalf of his parents, has grown into a sizeable sum. Aizen never touched it—would
never dream of it—because while he is a rotten lizard, he will be damned if he allows people
to know and treat him accordingly. Raising my nephew is its own reward, he would say. Gin
looks down at the documents in his hand. He double-checked the document requirements
before he left home.

He stands there, frowning at a sheet with a bunch of numbers, when he spots Shuuhei looking
at him. Gin looks at him with a smile, clearly not into it. Shuuhei had been a very angsty
teen. Pedestrian despair—parents who don’t listen, feelings beyond comprehension, and
living in a small, boring town. Shuuhei’s misery wasn’t interesting then, and his personality
can only have gone downhill since.

“Can I help you?” Gin asks. Shuuhei frowns, like he thought he was being subtle.

“No,” he says, “how are you?”

“Living,” Gin says in an amused voice.

“That’s something,” Shuuhei replies. “How’s Ran?” Gin’s lip twitches when Shuuhei uses her
nickname. He knows about them, but that doesn’t mean he wants to pretend to like the men
she slept with.

“She’s herself.” Gin is purposefully obfuscating. Shuuhei nods, and Gin can tell that there
will be follow up question. He clenches his jaw, anticipating it.

Luckily, another customer leaves and the teller gestures for Shuuhei to step forward.

**

Rangiku and Kenpachi went out for happy hour, and three hours and four drinks later, she is
in a silly mood, taking the stairs to her apartment two at a time. Gin leaves the door unlocked
for her, so she bursts in, kicking off her shoes. Gin looks at her, a stack of papers before him
and a beat-up copy of Hamlet face down on the coffee table. She bounces over to the couch,
standing in front of him in a short skirt and low-cut top.

“Hi Gin,” she says in a bright, cheery voice. Drunk Rangiku is bubbly, like, mega-bubbly.
Head cheerleader bubbly.

“Rangiku,” he says, looking up at her. He puts his hands on the backs of her knees, rubbing
circles on her legs with his thumbs.

“What are you doing?” she asks, twisting at the waist to look at the papers on the coffee
table.

“I’m working,” he says, “teaching the next generation and all.” Rangiku turns around and
picks up the book, grinning when she reads the passage it is open to.

“To be, or not to be,” she says, “that is the question.” She says this all in a bad English
accent. Rangiku giggles at how stupid she sounds. “Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to
suffer,” she hiccups, “the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a
sea of troubles and by opposing end them.”

“You know you are making light of suicide, right?” Gin asks, sitting back to watch her.
Rangiku climbs on to him, to straddle his lap, and ignores him.

“To die—to sleep, no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand
natural shocks that flesh is heir to.” Rangiku tosses the book over her shoulder. “You’re like
Hamlet.”
“Oh,” he says, “how so?” Gin likes her little musings. Rangiku is one of the most insightful
people he knows.

“You are both deep, you never say what you mean, and you always keep everything inside,”
she says, wrapping her arms around him, “if I could, I would climb inside of your brain and
know all of your secrets.” There is nothing about him that she doesn’t want to know.

“Secrets are fun,” he hums, “and if you knew everything, there’d be no surprises.” Rangiku
kisses his left ear, and Gin sits back, recognizing that she is in one of her clingy moods.

“I would suck all of the wax out of your ear.” She giggles at the noise he makes. He looks a
little grossed out.

“You’re disgusting when you drink,” he says. Rangiku takes this as a dare, and she
immediately knows how she will outdo herself. She grins evilly, and Gin prepares himself.

“I’d suck your vomit up with a straw,” she says. Gin’s jaw drops, which is something she has
never seen him do. She kisses his jaw, while he tries to remember how to speak.

“That’s nasty, Ran,” he says, “just gross. Who taught you to speak that way?”

“You inspire me,” she says, “you’re my muse. There isn’t a part of you that I wouldn’t put in
my mouth.” Rangiku kisses his upper lip, and Gin has to admit, there is something hot about
someone wanting him that much. His hands travel up the back of her shirt, and she grins
when she feels him harden. Rangiku pulls back, and grins at him.

“What's the nasty thing you’d do for me?” she asks. “What is the nasty, unsexy, gross thing
you’d do to me?”

She pulls back and, with her thumbs, pushes Gin’s upper lip up towards his nose. He gives
her an unimpressed look as she inspects his gumline.

“I’d suck the lint out of your belly button,” he says. Rangiku grins.

“I think you can do better,” she hums. “I want to feel your devotion.” Gin sighs.

“I’d let you pee on me.” He replies. Rangiku smirks.

“Sexually?” she asks. Gin rolls his eyes.

“You don’t even need a reason.” He smiles when she giggles.

“You’re a nasty pervert,” she says. Gin jokingly bites her neck, as he wraps his arms around
her waist and pulls her down over him on the couch. Rangiku shrieks, and she finds it funny
how his tall body can’t fit on the couch. She pushes his hair out of his face and smiles softly.

When she leans down to kiss him, he’s ready.

 **

The next day, Rangiku wakes up, Gin’s arm over her waist, his face tucked in behind her
shoulder. One of her legs is tangled in his, and she feels the kind of hungover that makes
stretching and being lazy feel very good. She stretches and smiles when she hears him groan.

“Want to have sex?” she asks, sitting up. Gin opens his eyes, frowning.

“No,” he says, “I want to sleep in.” Rangiku frowns.

“Are you absolutely sure?” she asks. Gin nods, rolling onto his back.

“I don’t understand how you have so much energy.” He says this as he rubs his eyes.

“It’s because you’re so cute.” She smacks her lips. Not for the first time, he is surprised that
she like him as much as she does. Gin smiles as she clears his bangs from his face. The thing
with Rangiku is that she can pretend to be nasty and bad, but she is actually a very tender,
caring person.

“I really need the sleep,” he says, “ask me in five hours.” His students are trying to melt his
brain. Rangiku pouts, but she rolls over and lies back down.

Six hours pass, and he is so thankful that he insists that she sit on his face, and they discover
that there is an entire range of noises neither knew her to be capable of.

**

Writing reveals a lot about a person, but not the way everyone thinks. Readers make the
mistake of looking at the content of a text, rather than the structure. Reading someone’s
writing tells you a lot about how they think, through its structure and organization. After
marking one round of short papers, Gin can tell you that most of his students try to sort out
their thoughts while they are writing. They don’t separate the acts of thinking and writing, so
he gets a lot of repetition and strange leaps in logic. He also gets a lot of bad grammar and
confusing word choices. Where is the evidence of Ophelia’s abortion? Gin actually had to
write this in the margins of Tatsuki’s paper. She simply stated it happened, without any
analysis or interpretation.

He’s been staring at Rukia’s paper for twenty minutes. She’s smart. Not as smart as she wants
to be, but that is because she wants to eclipse Byakuya. Rukia hasn’t yet figured out that
skills are more important than talent. He sees flashes of intelligence in her blunter moments,
when she can’t help but sound like herself. Claudius is a toad. That made him snort, and she
made it work. She has a style. Gin could recognize her work anywhere.
But there are problems. She writes too much, and she uses a lot of run-on sentences. It reads
like she is trying to ape Byakuya’s elegance, using words she doesn’t fully understand and
using complex sentence structures when she would be better off to keep to her short, simple
sentences. When she tries to sound like Byakuya, it throws it all off. Her writing loses its
flow, and her argument, very quickly, is abandoned in her quest to sound like her brother.

Solid thesis. Consistent argumentation. Analysis and interpretation are both evident.
Claudius is a toad, but you should’ve shown me rather than declare it at the outset. Issues
with syntax and diction. Stop trying to write like your brother.

Gin tilts his head and rereads his comment. It’s not the meanest thing he has ever said, so he
throws it onto the pile. He frowns when he realizes he has to deal with Ichigo’s paper next.

**

Aizen has a first name, but no one uses it. Not even Momo or Gin, and they are related to
him. It’s an unspoken rule. Not for the first time, Gin considers the absolute cruelty that
guides almost every interaction Aizen has with other people, including his children. He is
always distant, even when others try to reach for him. Gin remembers one Christmas, when
his aunt cried to his mother about the fact that Aizen never hugs her first. It was always her
going to him, and more often than not, he would deflect.

Gin thinks that Aizen isn’t in love with Momo so much as he likes the control that she
willingly gives him. Loyalty is one of the dumbest virtues, Aizen told Gin. He is a passive
psychopath, and one day, he will let Momo go, like he does all of his playthings. The reason
Aizen still seems to be hung up on Gin’s aunt is that he never got the chance to let her go; her
death gives her power in the relationship that she never had in life.

Gin is alone in the office, brooding over the fact that only he and Byakuya seem to know how
awful Aizen is, when he hears a knock at the door. He sees Rangiku, waving at him through
the door. She is smiling big, and she holds up two cups of coffee. He smiles and gets up off
his chair to open the door. They stand at the door for a second, staring at each other. My
mouth has been all over your body. She looks up at him, her face innocent, like she really is a
good girl, and it amuses him.

“You have a spare period right now, right?” she asks, walking into his office.

“Yes,” Gin replies, unsurprised that she has memorized his schedule. He had hers down the
first week he came back.

“We should have a quickie,” she declares, grinning at him. Gin rolls his eyes.
“Do you think about anything else?” he asks. Rangiku shakes her head.

“Nope,” she says, “I intend to enjoy our honeymoon period.” She sets the coffee cups on his
desk. She turns to look at him, “I don’t want to waste any of the time we have with each
other.”

“Ran,” he says, “we have time.”

“Like you don’t want to defile Aizen and Byakuya’s workspace?” she asks, taking her coat
off. Rangiku is wearing, for once in her life, a mid-length, pleated skirt. It’s wool, so it
doesn’t twirl. Her top is a low-cut wrap one, so she doesn’t look completely out of character.

“You aren’t wearing underpants, are you?” he asks, fighting the urge to check.

“Answer the question.” She smiles.

“I like to forget than anyone else exists when I’m inside you,” he says, “that’s my fantasy.”
He walks up to her and looks down at her skirt. He pinches her skirt, over either hip. Gin
looks over his shoulder, checking to make sure that no one can see them through the window,
and that, if they can, he is blocking them from seeing her, before pulling the skirt up to see
that she is entirely bare, below the waist. Rangiku grins up at him and Gin really thinks about
defiling the office, when he hears the door open.

He drops her skirt and backs away, adjusting his face to cheerful indifference while Rangiku
looks deeply inconvenienced. Aizen and Byakuya stand there, both unimpressed. Aizen
smiles politely, but Byakuya looks over it.

“Rangiku,” Aizen says, “what a pleasant surprise.” Rangiku doesn’t even blush.

“Aizen, Byakuya,” she says. “I wanted to drop some coffee off for Gin.” Byakuya says
nothing as he walks over to his desk. Aizen grins.

“You never visited Byakuya.” He says with a serene smile, “Gin, it must be nice to be so
loved.” Byakuya says nothing, while Rangiku looks like she wants to give Aizen a piece of
her mind.

“It’s wonderful,” Gin says, taking a hold of Rangiku’s wrist, “very affirming.”

“Rangiku is good at that,” Aizen says, “she affirms so many. She should get a medal.”

Gin presses his lips together. He doesn’t care about Rangiku’s sexual history, and he doesn’t
like that Aizen is trying to use it against her.

“Ran, I think we should go on a walk,” Gin says. He isn’t a boy anymore, and while he would
love to punch Aizen in the face now that he is big enough to make it really hurt, he knows
better than to give Aizen that kind of power.

“I agree,” she says, picking up their coffee. “Let’s go.” Gin wordlessly follows her, opening
the door for her and holding it as she walks out. He turns back to glare at Aizen, who is
already staring back at him, with a serene expression.
 **

Momo pokes at her scrambled eggs. Her kids are with the babysitter, so it is just her and
Toushirou sitting at the counter. Rangiku stands before them, watching her play with her
food.

“I just don’t understand,” Momo says, “it’s like he is pulling away, and I don’t know why.”
She can tell that Aizen is losing interest in her, and she is terrified by the possibility that she
can’t fix it. Momo usually goes out of her way to avoid thinking about her relationship with
Aizen.

“I’m sure it’s not true.” Toushirou says, “he’s probably just busy with work.”

“But Gin and Byakuya are both working too,” Momo says, “they have heavier course loads.”
Aizen comes home every day, leaves his lunch box on the kitchen counter and retreats to his
study. He treats her and their children like an inconvenience.

Momo feels stupid, for a whole host of reasons. Stupid for caring so much, for doubting him.
For not being able to see what, inside of her, repels Aizen.

Rangiku still isn’t over the comment Aizen made about her, so she is finding it difficult to be
sympathetic with Momo. You’re with a monster, how can you not see that? He’s not clearly
abusive, so much as he withholds affection and approval. He was this way with Gin, except
he hated Aizen, so it never really served its purpose. Momo’s problem is that she can’t square
this cold person with the man she fell in love with.

Rangiku, very badly, wants to snap at Momo and tell her all of this, but every time she looks
like she is about to say something, Toushirou gives her a harsh look. She thinks he indulges
Momo. But she knows that he too, is in denial of his own feelings, so she says nothing when
she turns back to make more coffee.

**

Byakuya got further in his academic career than Gin ever did. Aizen never even bothered.
Byakuya has been to graduate conferences in places like Cambridge or Berlin, that are
purposefully designed to make North American scholars feel sophisticated. He’s never been
to one that didn’t feel like a waste of time. Intellectual light-weights, keynote speakers with
insane speaking fees, fools who pursue the one philosophical system that will make all of
their decisions for them. Simpletons, all of them.

Rangiku read one of his papers once. People sure love the word ‘being,’ don’t they? He
doesn’t remember what he said, exactly, but knows that he deflected. He doesn’t like to be
reminded of that time in his life, especially by someone whose most attractive quality is the
fact that they don’t care about stupid, petty shit. Which is what he would refer to his
dissertation as. Stupid and petty. Insignificant. Light-weight. Dare he say it, fluff.

The one serious thing about it is the dedication at the beginning. He wishes he could dismiss
it, but he cannot. So, he compartmentalizes, and part of that process is getting lost in someone
else.

If asked, Byakuya would say that his attraction to Rangiku lies in her utter lack of pretension.
She is who she is; she drinks too much, her tits are always out, she’s too lazy for a real job.
It’s easy to breathe around her, even though he knows that he didn’t make things easier for
her.

Byakuya looks up at Gin, who is politely listening to Aizen drone on about the finer points of
Hamlet, as if the three of them haven’t read that play more times than they can count. It’s
condescending, actually, because while Aizen may be smarter than Byakuya and Gin, he
never did anything with his intelligence. As far as Byakuya is concerned, the reason Aizen
became a teacher was because he enjoys lording his intelligence over teenagers instead of
doing anything with it. What a waste of grey matter. The pretense of sophistication that
Aizen cultivates leaves a bad taste in Byakuya’s mouth. He doesn’t blame Gin for running
like he did. Renji called him a coward for leaving Izuru and Rangiku, but knowing what he
had at home…well, let’s just say that Byakuya understands why he had to leave. Aizen would
have crushed him.

Byakuya hates conceit, which is why he loathes Aizen. He speaks to everyone like they
should be grateful to be in his presence and it’s maddening that no one else but Gin seems to
understand what a truly wretched creature he is. Byakuya is personally convinced that he has
scales.

“Byakuya,” Aizen says, “what do you think of King Claudius?”

“That he deserved worse than poison.” Byakuya says. Aizen laughs, but Gin frowns. If Aizen
is King Claudius, then that makes him Hamlet, and only Rangiku is allowed to call him that.

**

One of the gushy things he will never, ever tell Rangiku unless one of them will die if he
withholds it, is that he has memorized every word she has ever mispronounced. Not because
he is looking for her flaws. Rather, he thinks it’s really cute and endearing when she
mispronounces a word. Gin holds all of her mispronounced words in his heart. Archipelago,
which came out asrh-uh-puh-LA-gsho. Inventory pronounced in-ven-tary, like there is a
factory for inventions. There are others, but those are the two he is thinking of.
 Gin lies on the bed, Rangiku beside him. She is filing her nails, while he stares at the side of
her face. “Remember when you couldn’t pronounce archipelago correctly?”

“No,” she says, blushing. Gin smirks.

“You’re lying,” he says. Rangiku turns to him, indignant.

“So, what if I am?” she says.

In this moment, Gin absolutely adores her. The freckle on her chin. Her eyelashes. Her pores.
Gin leans in and kisses the side of her neck. She giggles but doesn’t shrug away. “Why would
you lie to someone who loves you?” he asks. She throws her nail file on the floor and climbs
on top of him.

“You love me?” she asks. He frowns.

“That shouldn’t be a question.” Everything he has done, since coming back, has been for her.

“It wasn’t a serious question,” she says, “it was a teasing question.” He believes her as soon
as she says it, because Rangiku isn’t a liar. She leans down, her mouth hovering over his. “I
just love you so much, sometimes, I forget that you feel the same.” Gin closes the gap, and
together, they bring in new life.

Chapter End Notes

I'm sorry that Rangiku and Gin are so gross with each other. I'll come back and fix typos
(I swear). Rangiku is reading that famous monologue from Hamlet. She listens to LDR's
"Old Money."

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a comment! They motivate me and warm my
heart.
 Canine
Chapter Summary

All dug up.

“I grew up here ‘til it all went up in flames, except the notches on the doorframe”

Phoebe Bridgers, “Garden Song”

Like most people who drink heavily, Rangiku has things she doesn’t want to think about and
people she doesn’t want to talk to, but at the same time, it almost becomes inevitable that she
thinks about these things when she drinks. Gin doesn’t come drinking with her, so more often
than not, it’s her and Kenpachi sitting at the bar. Kenpachi’s wife died in childbirth, so when
his daughter is with her grandparents, he comes to the bar to get stinking drunk.

He is going on about all the files that he has to read now. I didn’t become a cop to do
paperwork. She hiccupped in response, instead of telling him that he should move to a bigger
town.

Rangiku looks into her drink, thinking about Gin. She is, quite honestly, surprised by how
functional their relationship is. She hated his absence, don’t get her wrong, but she never
really imagined that they could be so…happy together. True, she isn’t totally sure that he is
staying, but she is secure enough that she has started to think about a real future. She sees
herself as others do, which means she thinks she is a mess, but Gin doesn’t see her that way,
nor does he treat her like one.

All the other men made her feel badly about herself, even when they were nice to her. But
Gin doesn’t make her feel less than. He is emotionally present and attentive, asking her how
her day is and treating her like an equal. She once asked how he felt about her job, and he
replied that it was none of his business. If you’re happy there, you’re happy. I don’t see why
that needs to change.

The only thing messy about them is that she never insists on protected sex. She actually likes
how messy it is, and she’s always a little disappointed when it isn’t messier or grosser. What
do you want, Ran? Gin always asks. I want to feel like you’re digging into me. Like he stuck
his fingers inside of her abdomen, like she is a piece of fruit. She’s never had sex that way, so
she doesn’t know why she wants it, but that is the kind of lust Gin inspires within her.

She looks up at the clock and frowns. “It’s time for me to go home.” She reaches into her
purse and pulls out a few bills.
“What, will you turn into a pumpkin?” Kenpachi asks. Rangiku shakes her head.

“Gin is probably waiting for me.” He never says it, but she’s never come home to him fully
asleep. He’s that kind of person.

“Ask him to do something interesting, commit a crime.” Kenpachi says. Rangiku frowns.

“I will not,” she stands up shakily.

“C’mon, just a misdemeanor. It doesn’t have to be anything big.” He sips his beer, “pretty
please, just for me, your number one pal in this godforsaken place?” Rangiku rolls her eyes.

“Get one of your underlings to do it,” she says, “than you can have an investigation into
corruption.” Kenpachi smirks.

“You’re on to something, Rangiku,” he says, “maybe Gin’s big brain is rubbing off.” Rolling
her eyes before smiling, Rangiku leaves the bar, toddling off into the night.

**

Rangiku rests on her back, looking up at the ceiling while Gin flips through one of her
magazines. They aren’t doing anything at all today. Just sitting in silence.

“Gin,” Rangiku says, “you know you’re my favorite person, right?”

“Well, look at your options,” he says, not looking away from a story about UFOs. “That and
the bar being in hell, it’s really no surprise that I’ve cleared it.” Rangiku rolls onto her
stomach, moving so she can rest her head on his stomach.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says. Gin lifts the magazine so that he can see her face.

“Oh?”

“I compare you to everyone, not just the other guys,” she says, “I don’t ever want you to
leave again.” Gin says nothing, because his plans should be obvious.

“Is someone telling you that I’ll be leaving?” he asks. Rangiku frowns.

“People ask me if you are going to stick around,” she says this in a quiet voice. Renji and
Shuuhei are pretty direct, while Urahara tells her not to lose his number. Shuunsei just smiles
at her. Byakuya is the only one who seems to respect her relationship. He doesn’t say
anything to her. Gin sighs. He isn’t petty but he isn’t going to sit here and pretend that the
men she’s fucked are looking out for her.
“Their motive is obvious, Ran.” He’s pretty annoyed, actually, because none of these men are
going to step up for her or commit. They just want her to be available. “And the answer to
their question is obvious, too.”

“Obvious?” she asks. Gin sets the magazine down, and frowns at her.

“Don’t you know?” he asks. Rangiku sits up and gets off the bed.

“Just because you know the answer doesn’t mean it’s obvious.” He watches her smooth her
skirt down, as she walks over to the kitchen.

**

Gin and Byakuya walk back to the English office together, after eating Momo’s lunch. There
are still twenty minutes before third period, and they intend to spend the rest of that time
listening to podcasts and ignoring each other. It’s probably the highlight of their working day.
Byakuya opens the door and Gin steps in, freezing when he sees Rukia sitting across from
Aizen.

“Rukia,” Gin says, “how are you?” Neither Gin nor Byakuya are happy to see Aizen alone
with a teenage girl.

“She came in here to discuss her paper,” Aizen says, “I took the liberty of looking it over.”

“Did you?” Gin asks, keeping his voice polite. Byakuya steps out from behind him, and
Rukia looks over her shoulder. She knows enough to know that Byakuya and Gin aren’t
happy to find her in here with Aizen but doesn’t have the life experience to know why. She
was a kid when Momo happened.

“I think you low-balled her,” Aizen says, “the paper was at least a B+.” Gin narrows his eyes.
He is a very fair marker.

“All due respect, Aizen, I don’t agree,” he replies, “the idea was alright. There were issues
with syntax and diction. The argumentation was consistent, but not particularly interesting or
creative.” Gin looks down at Rukia and resigns himself to the cruelty he will have to commit.
“The biggest flaw in your paper is that, rather than doing something interesting, you try to
sound like what you think an intelligent person ought to sound like. In the future, I think your
time would be better spent being smart rather than trying to sound smart.” Gin watches her
face fall, but it’s for the best that someone give her a reality check now, before Aizen gets her.
“In the future, if you would like to discuss your grades, speak to the person who graded
them.” He walks over to his desk, ignoring the look on her face.

It was blunt advice, but it’s the kind that you can only give to a student with potential. She
isn’t gifted, but she is at the point where she needs to be challenged rather than coddled,
which is what Aizen is angling to do, for reasons that Gin doesn’t care to think about. Aizen
will make you weak. Gin looks over at Byakuya, whose face is impassive.

“Byakuya, do you have anything to add?” Aizen asks. Byakuya narrows his eyes and doesn’t
look at Rukia.

“I respect Gin’s opinion.” He looks down at Rukia. “You should leave now.” Rukia, who
hasn’t said anything this entire time, stands up. Aizen clears his throat, holding out her paper.
She takes it from him and scuttles out of the office.

“Lovely girl,” Aizen says. Byakuya says nothing, while Gin shrugs.

“I don’t feel that way about students,” he says, pulling out his chair and sitting down. Aizen
chuckles to himself, and Gin and Byakuya both wish that he’d fall over dead.

**

Rangiku is eating yogurt right out of the container, with her pointer finger hooked. She is
sitting on her bed, cross-legged, as Gin walks out of the bathroom. His hair is still wet from
his shower, and there is only a towel around his waist. She is wearing one of her satin robes,
looking up at him as she sucks the yogurt off of her finger.

“Key lime?” he asks. She nods with her finger in her mouth. Gin smiles, sitting down beside
her.

“Why are you wearing a towel?” she asks. Gin blinks.

“What?”

“Why are you wearing a towel, when I see you naked all the time?” she asks, setting her
yogurt on the bedside table, licking her finger.

“Because I like to keep some mystery in our relationship.” He watches Rangiku untie her
robe and take it off. She scoots over to him and moves his towel.

“Want to have sex?” she asks, smiling at him. Gin grins.

“Well, since we’re already naked,” he opens his arms and has to keep himself from laughing
when she climbs onto him. She wraps her arms around his neck and tilts her head, smiling at
him. Gin puts his arms around her waist and beams up at her. Rangiku takes his face in her
hands and moves his head from side to side.

“You’re going to stay, right?” she asks quietly. Gin frowns.

“What?”
“Are you going to stay with me?” Rangiku grinds against him, and Gin tries to focus on what
she’s asking of him.

“Where else would I go?” he asks, looking up at her. She reaches between them and strokes
him. It strikes Gin that she hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“The world is a big place,” she sighs, guiding him in. They both sigh when they are together.
Gin looks up at her, as she smooths his hair out of his face and smiles softly. She moves
slowly, and he just holds her there, because that is the kind of sex they are going to have.

Sometimes, she will say filthy things to him. Other times, Rangiku will be soft and blushing.
Her cheeks are getting flushed, and she is biting her lower lip as he begins to move with her.
She hasn’t pressed him for an answer, because she doesn’t believe that there is one that will
satisfy her completely. He kisses her chin, moves his hand to trace the scar on her leg.

She closes her eyes, and presses her forehead to his, breathing into his mouth, giving him all
of her air. He moves his mouth up to hers, but she bites her lip, keeping him from kissing her.
It puts him out a little, so he reaches a hand down between them and touches her clit.

“Not fair,” she sighs.

“Why?” he asks. She presses her nose to his, opening her eyes. It’s all Gin, everywhere she
looks.

“Because you never give me a straight answer,” she hums, moving faster, looking for their
end. She wants them to collide, like two particles, bouncing off of each other.

“I keep telling you,” he sighs, “it’s obvious.” Rangiku finally kisses him then, climbing into
the back of his throat. Gin grabs her hips, and moves more forcefully, making her moan. He’s
warmed her up enough that when they move the right way, she sparks up. She feels glimmery
when he holds her close.

She runs a hand between her legs and touches herself as Gin moves up into her. She wants to
feel like a cut open fruit, like a gash, leaking. “Please,” she says into his mouth, “keep
digging into me.”

“I will,” he sighs.

“Until you hit bottom,” she says. He thrusts up into her, and she groans.

“You don’t have a bottom,” he replies. She moves her hand even faster and makes a happy
noise when he digs his nails into her hips. She brings herself to orgasm first, and she cups the
back of his head, holding him tight when he comes inside of her. He pulls her down onto him,
and she yelps on the way down.

“You don’t usually like being on top,” he says. Rangiku hums.

“I guess I wanted to see what you would do,” she replies, “if there was a position you would
say no to.” Gin laughs beneath her.
“You can have me in whatever position you’d like.” Rangiku sits up, looking down at him.

“You mean it?” she asks, a little too excited. Gin nods.

“If you ask nicely.”

“Good thing I’m the nicest,” she says, kissing him on the mouth as his hand rests on the small
of her back.

**

Gin woke up early to finish some of the readings he has to do for class, and he knows they
won’t get done if he stays at home and has breakfast with Rangiku. She has a way of eating
up his time and attention. The Metamorphosis can be easily read in two hours, but he hasn’t
been able to get that done for a week now. Rangiku always tries to be domestic, it never
works out quite the way she would like, and he has to swoop in and rescue her.

She frowned at him from bed when he was getting dressed. Why are you leaving? Gin didn’t
say anything, and she rolled over and went back to sleep. He sighed, and picked up the big
tote bag that he keeps all his teaching stuff in.

Gin doesn’t have any reason to not want to be at home, so he doesn’t realize how early Aizen
and Byakuya come to school. He is surprised when the light in the office is on, and Byakuya
is standing at Aizen’s desk. Gin opens the door, and they both turn back to look at him as he
walks into the office.

“Good morning, Gin.” Aizen smiles serenely. Byakuya steps back, and Gin eyes the packages
on Aizen’s desk and the irritated look on Byakuya’s face.

“Good morning,” he says, “am I interrupting?”

“Aizen ordered both of our theses and my dissertation.” Byakuya says.

“Undergraduate and Masters.” Aizen rests his chin on his hand. “I wanted to see what you
two were working on, before you quit the academy.”

“Academy isn’t the right word,” Gin says, trying to hide how bothered he is by Aizen’s
nosiness. He doesn’t like how Aizen tries to look through their brains like this. It feels like a
violation.

“Then what word would you suggest?” Aizen asks.

“The slaughterhouse.” Gin walks over to his desk and sets his bag on it, taking his coat off.
Byakuya doesn’t move his face, but Aizen grins.

“I hope neither of you mind,” Aizen says.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there.” Gin says. He regrets leaving Rangiku so early. He’ll
never do it again.

**

Rangiku stands behind the counter of the diner, while Toushirou sits across from her, his club
sandwich, fries, and Coke sitting untouched. He has a pinched look on his face, and he looks
especially tense.

“Are you going to tell me about it?” she asks. He glowers up at her.

“Do I have to?” he asks. Rangiku sips her coffee.

“No,” she replies, “but it could help.” She tilts her head to the side and smiles softly. They are
the same age, but it feels like she is his big sister. Toushirou sighs big, drumming his
knuckles on the countertop.

“Have you spoken to Momo?” he asks. Rangiku shakes her head. Toushirou picks up a fry
and dips it into some ketchup. “We had a fight.”

Rangiku nods. Toushirou’s crush never really went away. It solidified inside of him, like it’s
now a part of his personality rather than a feeling inside of him. To her knowledge, he has
never dated anyone else. Boy genius went to university, law school and then came right back
here. He’s going to work himself to death, and the worst part is, he is in complete denial as to
why he never goes out on dates or asks for a girl’s number. Gin tells her to let him figure it
out, but she doesn’t want to do that. Rangiku wants to spell it out in big, glittery letters and
hang them up on a wall, with lights all around them.

MOMO IS DELUSIONAL AND SO ARE YOU. TELL HER OR GET OVER IT. SHE’S A
GROWN WOMAN. LET HER FUCK UP HER OWN LIFE AND GET ON WITH YOUR
OWN.

Gin told her that was too wordy. She should be more concise, but there is too much going on
for it to be simple. Rangiku sighs.

“What was your fight about?” she asks. Toushirou presses his lips together.

“Aizen,” he says quietly. “She isn’t sleeping anymore. Has she told you?” Toushirou puts the
fry in his mouth. Momo used to pretend that the ketchup was fire, and the only way to put it
out was to put it in your mouth. She stopped doing that when they were thirteen.

“You should tell her the truth,” she says.

“What would the truth be?”’ he replies. He doesn’t like where this is going. Rangiku sighs.
“You know…” she waves her hand, as if it would give some clarity. Toushirou narrows his
eyes.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t know.” He goes out of his way not to think about it.

“Stop lying,” Rangiku sighs, “you need to tell her how you really feel. You take this way too
personally, you need to learn to let her deal with her ow—”

“Shut up, Ran.” Toushirou stands up. “You don’t know anything.”

“Yes, I do,” she says, raising her voice. No one else is in the diner, except for Iba, who works
in the kitchen and probably has his headphones on. “You need to tell her how you feel about
her. You have loved her since we were kids.”

“Are you implying that I’m letting life pass me by?” he asks, pulling his wallet out of his
pocket and taking out a few bills.

“Yes,” she says, “you are letting life pass you by,” she puts her hands on her hips and frowns
at him. Toushirou throws a few bills on the counter. He has a petulant look on his face.

“Ran, you are the only person I know who waits.” He picks up his briefcase. Rangiku’s
mouth opens and closes, not quite believing what she just heard.

“Gin came back.”

“And if he hadn’t?” Toushirou says, “would you have moved on?” Rangiku narrows her eyes.

“That’s not the same,” she says, “he always loved me.”

“Then why did he leave in the first place?” Toushirou says, taking a step back. Rangiku has
no words for that one, her mouth hanging open as he leaves. “Keep the change,” he calls
back. Rangiku says nothing, instead, deciding to keep it all inside. Her greatest fear is that
Gin will leave again. If he were to do so, she doesn’t think her heart could take it.
 Incisor
Chapter Summary

Creepy baby.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“And I think when you’re gone it’s forever”

Phoebe Bridgers, “Chinese Satellite”

Momo is a very pretty woman, beneath the dark undereye circles, mom haircut and giant
flannels worn with leggings. Aside from Toushirou’s nasty crush, a bunch of guys liked her.
But she only ever saw Aizen, since she was fifteen and he was their English teacher. She was
disappointed when Juushirou became their English teacher for the remainder of their high
school years, and that’s because she and Rangiku always ended up in the same class as Gin.
Rangiku thinks that’s why Momo always resented Gin. He never liked her much anyway and
would smirk at her or correct her in front of everyone, just to be a dick. He claimed liking
Aizen to be a grave personality flaw. Well, if that’s the case, what do you have to say about
the entire town? Rangiku had popped her gum to make her point. That we should leave as
soon as we can. They were always a ‘we’ to Gin, like he had decided that they were a pair
before he had even kissed her.

Rangiku is trying to consolidate the ketchup bottles, because her boss insists on buying the
glass bottles of ketchup, even though they are inefficient. They are all lined up on the counter,
and she is on the second bottle. She hates how condiments and spreads look out of the bottle,
without any food. It grosses her out. So, even though she likes ketchup, she won’t lick it off
of her finger if some gets on her.

Rangiku is cursing under her breath when Momo comes into the diner, stroller in tow. She
hasn’t seen either her or Toushirou since last week, when she came in for a donut and
Rangiku and Toushirou had their big falling out. Rangiku smiles at Momo as she walks up to
the counter, looking frazzled. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she definitely hasn’t been
sleeping.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee? Some donuts for the babies?” Rangiku waves at Momo’s
kids, who grin back at her. I want a baby. Rangiku is grateful that Momo is looking away
when she jumps at her own thought. Five months ago, she had been joking about getting her
tubes tied, and now…she wants a baby. Gin’s creepy little baby. Baby Creep.
Gin’s right. She needs to get her head checked. Gin-induced psychosis will put her in an early
grave, otherwise. She gets Momo’s coffee, trying to calculate whether or not her feelings for
Gin are terminal, when she turns around to see Momo staring, with an awkward expression
on her face.

“Uh, what’s up?” Rangiku plasters a smile on her face. Momo bites her lip, watching the
coffee being set down in front of her.

“I have a question.” Momo sets her hands on the counter, biting the inside of her cheek.
“How do you keep Gin’s interest?” Rangiku blinks.

“How do I keep Gin’s interest?” she asks, not understanding the question. Momo nods.

“Like, how do you keep Gin interested in, you know…” she tilts her head to the side, her
eyes big.

“Um, what do you mean?” Rangiku asks, not understanding the question.

“You and Gin have lots of sex, right?” Momo asks in a whisper, like she didn’t make two
babies. “That’s why you keep him around, right?” Rangiku blinks.

“I…yes, I guess we do.” Three to four times a week is a lot, right? Not that there can be too
much, as far as Rangiku is concerned. “I don’t really do anything, though. We kinda…well,
you know. One of us asks and the other says ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ I don’t, uh, do anything.” Rangiku
doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

“How does it feel?” Momo grumbles, which is something Rangiku didn’t even know she
could do. “Aizen hasn’t touched me since I gave birth.”

“It’s been over eight months.” Rangiku squeaks. Momo nods.

“I know!” She sighs, “nothing works. There is always an excuse, and Rangiku, I love Aizen
with my entire soul but it’s making me insane. It’s like he isn’t interested. Not even the
school-girl uniform with doe-eyes works, and he loved it.” Momo raises her arms in despair,
and Rangiku blinks at the lack of self-awareness. He’s a teacher who likes school-girl
uniforms. Does that not creep you out? Then again, Momo had pretty much been a girl when
they got together. “I just…I get no sleep, or sex, and I do all the housework and I make him
food that he doesn’t even eat. I feel like a failure. It’s not normal, or how it’s supposed to be.”
Momo looks down at her coffee cup. “Rangiku, do you think there’s something wrong with
me? Gin practically eats out of your hand, and he always looks at you like you’re the only
person he sees. How do you do it?”

“You’re not a failure,” Rangiku puts her hand over Momo’s. She could live the rest of her life
without knowing any intimate details of Aizen, but alas, that is not what life intended for her.
“You are beautiful, and thoughtful, and kind. If Aizen can’t see those things, that’s his loss.”

“He’s the one I want,” Momo replies softly. Rangiku sighs.

“I know, Momo.”
“Toushirou and I had a fight. He told me I could do better, that I deserve more.”

“He’s right,” Rangiku replies, “you and your kids deserve the world.” Momo blinks.

“You mean that?”

“With my entire body and soul,” Rangiku says, smiling as if she doesn’t know that there is
nothing Momo can do to get Aizen to love her.

Later that day, Rangiku takes chicken nuggets over to Toushirou, who is working late in the
office, and he apologizes. When she gets home, Gin asks her where she’s been. Instead, she
tells him what Momo said about the school-girl uniforms. Gin wrinkles his nose but says
nothing. This probably doesn’t entirely surprise him. Aizen doesn’t like underaged girls so
much as he likes people who are easily manipulated—the fact that Momo, for instance, was
an adolescent was incidental. Rangiku, tired of thinking about this, walks to the bathroom
and decides to take a bath.

**

The frustrating thing about being a high school English teacher is that the curriculum doesn’t
make a lot of sense, and while his students are prone to stupidity, they aren’t stupid. For
instance, The Metamorphosis, or Die Verwandlung in German, isn’t an ‘English’ book. It was
originally written in German and subsequently translated. It’s a good book, but it isn’t
English.

“I’m just saying, why are we reading a book that isn’t even an English book?” Ichigo asks, “I
don’t get it.”

“There is a lot you don’t understand,” Rukia shoots back. Gin sighs to himself, wondering
where he went wrong. I should’ve told Ran to pack a bag and come with me. He can’t
imagine that she would miss this place much.

“The curriculum works in mysterious ways.” Gin just does what he’s told. He’s given up on
changing anything or improving it. It’s easier to just nod. He has enough on his plate; there is
no time for being the enlightened, cool, inspiring adult. Who cares? Besides, Gin has never
liked any adult who cared about being perceived as ‘cool’ to teenagers.

“Okay, but you must have some say.” Ichigo is someone who absolutely believes in human
agency and freedom. Gin never presses him on any of his beliefs. Ichigo is too young to
understand that there is no ethical consumption under capitalism and that the real evil in this
world is banal in its presentation.

“No, I truly do not have any control over what I teach you,” he says in a cheery voice, “there
is an entire administration that decides what is relevant to your lives, who does all the critical
thinking for me. It is very convenient.” He walks up to the chalkboard and picks up a piece of
chalk. “Now, turning to the text. What do you think Gregor Samsa wakes up as?” Gin points
at Rukia when her hand shoots up.

“Cockroach,” she says. Gin shakes his head.

“Wrong,” he starts drawing on the chalkboard. The students watch as he draws a beetle on the
chalkboard, with its wings outstretched. “According to Nabokov, Gregor was a winged
beetle, and could’ve flown away if someone had opened the window.” He turns to his class.
“How many people, do you think, wake up without realizing that they have wings?”

Ichigo frowns and crosses his arms. “I think Gregor was a coward.”

“Oh?” Gin asks, indifferent. Ichigo opens his big mouth, and Gin thinks about how his wings
brought him back here. Would Gregor have changed his mind too?

**

It happens when Iba burns Kenpachi’s scrambled eggs. The stench hits her suddenly, and
Rangiku barely makes it to the garbage can under the cash register. It’s only Juushirou and
Kenpachi in the diner, and they both think it’s very amusing that she is sick on the job.
Kenpachi leans over the counter to see her, on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

“I will never stop laughing if this is how we find out you’re pregnant.” Kenpachi has a shit-
eating grin, and she’d punch him out if she wasn’t also a little panicked at the prospect of
motherhood. We’ve never used protection.

Kenpachi cackles at look on her face, and he tries to coerce Juushirou into making a bet with
him. Boy or girl?

**

When Gin looks around the world, all he sees is cockroach logic. Everyone he knows, except
Aizen and Rangiku, functions on the premise that some higher power, some transcendental
force—justice—is possible. It’s the kind of think that makes actual justice impossible
because everyone waits for it to happen, rather than do anything to bring it into being.

Aizen and Rangiku are different. Aizen actively perverts the possibility of justice while
Rangiku does everything to ensure that it happens. She doesn’t kill bugs and helps old ladies
with their groceries. Gin asks why, and she says it’s because that everyone deserves to be
treated well. Everyone has a soul, Gin. He asked if he has a soul. Rangiku put her hand to his
face and told him that he, especially, out of everyone she knows, has a soul. Gin keeps that
compliment in his heart every day, chewing on it whenever he is tempted to do something
soulless.

Like, oh, telling Ichigo that despite his cute and trite belief that justice is something that
inevitably happens, that nothing will ever change if he sits there and assumes that people just
do the right thing. Be the kind of person Ran wants you to be. Someone who treats everyone
like they have a soul.

**

Rangiku has mixed feelings about the negative test. On one hand, she takes a kind of pleasure
in being able to tell Kenpachi that he was dead wrong about her being pregnant. On the other,
she is a little…disappointed. She doesn’t intend to get pregnant, but now that she’s thought
about it, the idea of her and Gin having a baby makes her happy. Then, of course, she realizes
that she doesn’t even know if he plans on staying here. She thinks he will, but he has never
given her a straight answer, and this takes on a new urgency now that the question of children
has reared its head.

Rangiku is pacing around her apartment, chewing her nail, when Gin comes home from
work. He slips off his shoes and puts them aside. He waits for Rangiku to speak first, because
he can tell that she has something to say to him. He walks around her to the kitchen, and she
stops to watch him.

“We need to talk,” she says. Gin looks over his shoulder. Nothing good has ever come from
someone saying those four words.

“Need?”

“Don’t question my word choice.” Rangiku scratches the side of her neck, leaving red marks.
Her skin looks angry; Gin wants to touch it, soothe it.

“Okay. Let’s talk.” Gin leans on the counter, arms crossed. “You have my full attention.” He’s
a little hungry, and a little irritated. Rangiku notices his mood, and he internally grumbles
when he sees her posture herself for a fight.

“I took a pregnancy test today.” Gin stares at the beauty mark on her chin, his brain not
immediately being able to wrap itself around being a father. “It came out negative, but it
made me think about our relationship. Like, what would happen if you laid your eggs in me?”
Gin snorts.

“Laid my eggs?” Gin smiles, “that’s not how that works.” Rangiku frowns.

“You know what I mean!” She stomps her foot. “We have unprotected sex, and every time,
we risk pregnancy, and I don’t even know whether you’re staying or not!” Gin sighs.
“I think my actions have been pretty clear; I have a permanent job, I’ve moved in, I actively
cultivate relationships outside of this one, I got my finances sorted…” Gin sticks up a finger
for each action that demonstrates his decision to settle here with her, until she gets sick of
him or one of them dies.

“Gin, you are the only man who has ever raw dogged me—”

“A raw dog,” Gin hums. Rangiku stalks right up to him and jabs her finger into his sternum.
She uses the pad of her finger, and she doesn’t dig into him. She would never actually hurt
Gin.

“Don’t distract me!” She hisses, “you leave for six years and as soon as you’re back, I just let
you come inside of me without a condom, meanwhile, we’ve never discussed what could
happen.” Rangiku rubs her temples. “I am such an idiot, Gin, you were right to leave me.”

“Ran, don’t say that,” he says, “we can discuss it now.” Gin walks up to her and sets his
hands on her shoulders. He rubs her collarbones through her shirt, and she glowers up at him.

“Gin, that’s not the point,” she says, “I need to know if you’re staying.”

“It’s obvious.” He frowns when Rangiku throws his hands off of her shoulders, stepping back
from him.

“No, it isn’t!” She shouts this, picking up a throw pillow and launching it at him. Gin catches
it, easily, and tosses it onto the floor. “What am I supposed to do if you leave again?” she
says.

“I’m not leaving,” he says.

“But what if you do?!” Rangiku stomps right up to him.

“I’m not going to do that to you.” He looks down at her, frowning.

“You said you were going to take me with you, and you left me for six years,” she says, “and
then you have the fucking nerve to come back here, and have sex with me like you do, and
get a job here and settle down, without ever telling me whether or not that’s what you want to
do. For all I know, you could change your mind again.” Rangiku is blinking, which means
that she is trying not to cry.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Gin says, “you are always so busy looking for possible betrayal
instead of being present.”

“I am present,” Rangiku says, “if anything, I am too present, not thinking…I’m so

thoughtless.” He grabs her wrist before she can smack herself in the forehead.

“Stop,” he says. Rangiku frowns.

“Or what?”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to hold on to your wrist until the feeling goes away.” He says this in
his best impression of what an authoritative voice sounds like. It just comes out sounding
dirty. Rangiku’s face twitches as she tries to stay angry. Gin sees this, and smirks. “Still
mad?”

“Yes,” she says, “I am very, very mad.”

“Okay, guess I’ll have to hold onto your wrist a little longer.”

It’s amazing how the mood completely flips around when Gin tries to tell Rangiku what to
do. The hairs on her arms stand up, and she steps up to him.

“Should we start using condoms?” he asks, trying to address the catalyst for their fight.

“I kind of want your creepy little baby,” she replies. Gin raises his eyebrows.

“Kind of?” he asks. It makes something inside of him twinge. Rangiku and my creepy little
baby.

“I’m open to it.” She tilts her head and looks up at him, biting her lower lip.

“You were so angry with me a minute ago, why should I participate?” Gin tightens his grip
on her wrist. Rangiku smirks.

“Because it means we get to have sex.” She presses herself to his chest. “And I’m horny.”

“Horny?” his face hovers over hers.

“A horny idiot.” She puts her hand on his cheek as soon as he lets go of her wrist.

“A horny idiot,” he hums, “what does that make me?”

“An even hornier idiot,” she grins when she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him.
Gin cups her behind as she presses herself to him. She sticks her hand up his shirt and lets the
anger dissipate into nothing. She doesn’t like being mad at Gin, and it’s why she has a hard
time keeping him accountable. If she can do anything to get out of being upset with him, she
will. It’s why she immediately took him back.

They make out for a while, before Gin decides to move things along. He lifts her up and sets
her on the kitchen counter, and he sticks his hands up her skirt and pulls her underwear off
her hips, over her thighs. He tosses them on the ground, before turning back to her mouth. He
presses his mouth to her lower lip, blocking out his shitty day at work and their fight. I’m
staying, I’m staying, I’m staying. He kisses her with all of his feelings, every single one. His
fingers ghost up her thighs, and she smiles into his mouth when he finds her.

He only does enough to loosen her up, and Rangiku is soon panting into his mouth. They are
still both fully clothed. Her hands are up by his face as he undoes his pants and pulls her hips
to his. She groans when he enters her, and she wraps herself around him, sticking her heel
into the back of his leg. Her arms are around him and she has bunches of his sweater in her
fists. She kisses his jaw, moaning when he hits the right spot, over and over and over. She
can’t even remember why she had been so angry with him, only minutes ago. It’s like Gin
poured bleach on her brain. He scrambles her.

Gin feels their end coming soon, and he tucks his face into her neck and thinks for a minute.
He wants to finish inside of her, but he doesn’t want to have this fight again. He could just do
what he wants, but that would just prove her point. He kisses her neck, mouth over her
jugular, before he speaks. “Should I pull out?”

“No,” she sighs, “I don’t care what happens.”

“You don’t?” he grunts, trying to keep his head on straight. Rangiku turns to look right into
Gin’s face, staring right into the backs of his eyes.

“You’re staying, right?” she asks in a quiet voice. He thrusts a little harder, and she grunts.

“Yes.” He says this right into her mouth, and Rangiku swallows it completely.

“Come inside of me,” she says. Gin presses his lips to her neck and does what she says, in
one, two, three.

**

Byakuya and Gin don’t acknowledge Momo when she comes to visit, unless she has brought
her children. She makes them feel itchy and, quite frankly, she is beneath contempt. They
aren’t total assholes, so they are nice to the kids. Byakuya doesn’t really like loud noises and
Gin is suspicious of anything that came out of Aizen, so they aren’t very friendly, but they do
wave.

Today, Momo is here without her children. She has Aizen’s second lunch in a box under her
arm. She walks into the office without knocking, something neither Rukia, who has been
scared off, or Rangiku, who loves the ritual of knocking on Gin’s door, would ever do.

“Aizen,” Momo says. No ‘Honey’ or ‘Baby.’ Not even his first name. It’s always Aizen.
“I’ve brought your lunch.”

“Ah,” Aizen says, “just put it on Gin’s desk over there.” Gin immediately swivels around in
his chair when he hears his name. Aizen doesn’t do anything without thinking it through, and
the only thing that’s changed in the last six years is that he has grey hairs on his temples and
an even more pronounced sadistic streak. Momo has given him a confidence that he,
apparently, lacked before.

“Why Gin’s desk?” Momo asks, turning to look at him. She narrows her eyes like she did in
high school.

“Careful Momo,” Gin says, “you’ll give yourself wrinkles and a migraine if you hold that
expression for long.”
“Aizen?” Momo asks. Byakuya turns to look at her, his face blank.

“Oh, well, Gin and Byakuya usually eat my lunches.” Aizen says, “Rukia is too young and
Rangiku, well, she wouldn’t be our Rangiku if Gin was with her for her ability to cook.”
When he talks like this, he makes Byakuya and Gin feel very small. Rukia and Rangiku are
big weak spots, and he exploits them accordingly.

“Is this true?” Momo asks. Gin doesn’t have the stomach to tell her that it’s because they
know that Aizen will bring them all back to her, uneaten.

“Aizen offers them.” Gin says. Momo stalks up to him.

“They are for Aizen!” She sounds like a woman on the edge, which, Gin supposes she is.
Now that she is up close, he can see how edgy she looks. Dark undereye circles, hair messy
and unwashed, stuck up in a bun. A pair of leggings a flannel much too big for her. Gin, who
has been softened by Rangiku, isn’t even angry. Rather, he feels very sad. Momo isn’t nice to
him, but she is a mostly okay person. Perhaps, even good. Not that anyone deserves this fate,
but she doesn’t deserve to be slowly driven insane by Aizen.

“Duly noted.” Gin says. Momo crosses her arms, unsatisfied that he has learned his lesson.

“I’m not convinced you are serious,” she says. Gin doesn’t know why she doesn’t harass
Byakuya.

“Is my word good for nothing around here?” he asks.

“No, it isn’t.” Momo looks down at him, as if he were a lower lifeform. “You ruin everything,
Gin.” He smiles one of his serpentine grins.

“Oh? How so?” he asks, in a faux-innocent voice.

“Rangiku isn’t the same,” Momo says, “she is never available anymore.” Available is an
interesting word to use, but Gin decides to take the high road.

“Well, I do live with her.” He doesn’t want to admit he’s in love in front of Aizen. It would be
admitting to weakness, and the last thing he wants is for Aizen to start sniffing around
Rangiku.

“You left her.” Momo says, “she was lost without you, and she will be lost again when you
leave.” Gin frowns, because he isn’t leaving, but he doesn’t know how to tell her that,
without Aizen using it against him.

“He dedicated both theses to her,” Aizen says. They all look at him, blinking. “Gin, you love
Rangiku, isn’t that right?” he smirks. Gin feels violated, like Aizen looked inside of him,
which, in a way, he did. He says nothing. “She got two theses on Nabokov, while a girl
named Hisana got a dissertation on the literary depiction of women in water.” Aizen smiles
serenely. “For two reserved men, you two care an awful lot about women.”

“And you don’t?” Byakuya raises an eyebrow. He will be damned if Aizen has Hisana or
Rukia's names in his mouth for long.
 “Of course, he does!” Momo glares at Byakuya. He blinks at her, before turning to look at
Aizen.

“The themes of love and obsession and how men portray women, two girls left behind…you
two have a lot in common.” Aizen says. “Rangiku bears a striking resemblance to a particular
kind of novelty doll for adults and Hisana looks just like Rukia, who looks like another kind
of doll, one for children. The two of you have twin psychopathology. No wonder you two
ended up back here.” Gin bites back the obvious well, what does it mean for you if you never
left? Byakuya clenches his jaw and says nothing. Gin eyes Momo, who says nothing about
Aizen’s description of Rangiku. When she says nothing, he loses all sympathy he had for her.

“It’s weird that you think about other women that way, don’t you think, Momo?” Gin looks at
Momo, whose face falls. “Well, I’m going to go to class.” Gin stands up, collecting his
books, and walks out the door.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think.
Aizen will get what's his, soon.
 Trigeminal Nerve
Chapter Summary

The best revenge is being happy.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Man I hate this part of Texas”

Phoebe Bridgers, “I Know the End”

There are few things crueler than spring. The promise of new life, only to return to the same
old, shitty cycle. T.S Eliot was right to declare that “April is the cruelest month.” Gin doesn’t
wish he were dead, far from it, but he is deeply pessimistic about the overall future. He’s just
lucky to get to hang out with Rangiku. It’s the one thing that proves that life isn’t innately
sadistic.

The thing he likes about “The Wasteland” is that, for all its doubt and pessimism, there is a
little room for hope on the shore of ruins. Or at least, that’s how Gin has always read it. But
he could be wrong. Everyone called him a prodigy, but he’s not very smart, not really. He just
knows how to analyze, argue and communicate effectively. Those skills take time, but anyone
can build them. It’s why he was always uncomfortable with being referred to as a genius. He
never saw himself as particularly remarkable, just determined to get the fuck out of here.

Gin sets the book down and swivels his chair to face Byakuya. Aizen is out today, going to
figure something out at the bank and then with his lawyer. Gin doesn’t know why he bothered
to tell them, because he knows that they both hate him.

“When do you think Aizen will come back?” Gin asks.

“I do not care for that man, and therefore, I don’t think about him unless I absolutely have
to.” Byakuya doesn’t put his book down. He has been in a mood ever since Aizen mentioned
Hisana. Gin is pretty sure he will regret it, but he thinks that he ought to try and be friendlier
with Byakuya. He is his one ally in this entire school.

“Is this about Hisana?” Gin asks. Byakuya freezes, before turning his head to look at Gin.

“Don’t talk about her.” Byakuya’s words are angry, but his voice is soft.

“Well, if you ever want to talk about her—”

“I never will.” Byakuya cuts Gin off. “We were together, and she didn’t want to move back
here when my parents died, and I wasn’t going to take Rukia from her home. There is nothing
more to say.” Byakuya turns back to his book, knowing he has already said too much. Gin
blinks. It is not lost on him that Byakuya did the exact opposite of what he said he would do.

“You’re right,” he says, “it’s none of my business.” Gin turns back to his book, and watches
Byakuya put his headphones on.

It’s strange, but he does feel closer to his colleague, and he doesn’t all together mind the
feeling. Gin would even say that he kind of likes it.

**

Momo sits at the counter, stirring her coffee. She is agitated, and Rangiku can guess why, but
she doesn’t want to hear about it. Aizen has been going to the bank and his lawyer, but he
won’t tell her why. The only reason she knows is because she has seen him going in and out,
when she is walking about with the kids and he is supposed to be at work.

“There’s something wrong with Aizen,” she says, looking at Rangiku.

“Are you sure?” Rangiku asks. The real question is what isn’t wrong with Aizen.

“No, something is really wrong,” she says, “it’s like he is getting ready to pull away.” God
willing, Rangiku thinks. Gin told her that he hates Aizen, and when she asked why, he
shrugged and said that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Well, what do you think could be the problem?” Rangiku asks. Momo sighs.

“I think he feels very unsupported at work,” Momo says, “Byakuya and Gin are alienating to
work with.” Rangiku blinks, because she truly cannot believe that Momo said that Byakuya
and Gin are at fault for Aizen’s emotional withdrawal. Aizen doesn’t even think they are
people. Well, he doesn’t think anyone is a person, not like him.

“Oh?”

“I know you love Gin, but he and Byakuya are just so standoffish.” Momo clucks, “no
wonder Aizen has to take so much work home with him.” Rangiku says nothing, speechless
at how delusional Momo sounds. “I think we should try and get them all together and boost
their collective morale.”

“You want Gin and Byakuya to boost Aizen’s morale?” Rangiku asks. “How do you plan on
doing that?”

“I am going to have a dinner party,” Momo says, “You, Gin, Byakuya and Rukia are going to
come.” She sets her spoon down on the plate, and Rangiku realizes that Momo was more
anxious about telling her this than talking about Aizen. “I am going to invite Izuru and
Toushirou as well.”

“You want us to have dinner with you and Aizen?” Not once, can Rangiku recall Gin eating
with Aizen. He always took his food up to his room.

“I want us to really become a family,” Momo says, “a chosen family.” Rangiku knows, for a
fact, that none of the people Momo has listed would ever choose to be related to Aizen. Izuru
and Toushirou and Rangiku have families, Byakuya only loves Rukia and Gin has spent the
better part of his life trying to get away from Aizen.

“Oh,” Rangiku says. “When?”

“Next Friday, at seven.” Momo says, “be sure to tell Gin. Dress nicely.” You are delusional.

“Will do,” Rangiku smiles.

“Maybe, if it goes well, we can spend Christmas together!” Momo says. Rangiku somehow
doesn’t choke, but she can’t imagine anything more depressing then watching Momo and
Aizen triangulate with Gin and Byakuya.

Maybe, Rangiku hums.

**

One of the things Byakuya finds interesting about stories is motif. He likes stories that are a
little gothic, uncanny, disturbing—the kind that make you realize how unsettled you are in
your own home. He likes it when his skin crawls. Women in water, women in attics; people
who are trying to get out and are locked away. Hisana told him his taste in literature is
depressing, and he replied that it was the point. As Momo leads him and Rukia down the hall
to the dining room, he has spotted numerous motifs, aesthetic themes that don’t tie back to an
actual thing. He guesses all the decorations are where family photos ought to be. There’s no
soul. It’s all decoration, an artifice meant to convey depth but only reveals how shallow it is
to the viewer.

He frowns when he sees a particularly sad picture of a cow, with big, dumb cow eyes. It looks
like Momo. He turns his head, and watches Momo show Rukia her seat at the table. Byakuya
walks up to catch up with them. Aizen sits at the head of the table, with Momo taking a seat
to his right and Toushirou sitting at his left. Izuru sits beside Momo, talking to her, while
Rangiku sits beside him. Gin has the dubious honor of sitting across from Aizen, pointedly
ignoring him as he talks to Rangiku. Rukia sits by Toushirou, and Byakuya supposes that he
gets to sit beside Gin.

As he pulls out his chair, he listens to Aizen speak to Rukia. “How are your studies coming
along? Has Gin started giving you the grades you deserve?”
“I always have,” Gin replies. Rukia nods, intuiting that it is in her best interest to stay out of
it. Aizen turns his lips up, and it is apparent to everyone but Momo that he is going to make
them all miserable.

“Well, Rukia, do you agree?” Aizen asks serenely.

“Mr. Ichimaru—”

“Gin,” Aizen says, “you can refer to him as Gin. We’re all friends here.” Aizen looks around
the table, as if inviting everyone present to dispute his claim. But no one does.

“Gin is a good teacher.” Rukia looks at him, nervous. “He is quite funny.”

“Gin has a sense of humor?” Aizen says, “my, Gin, you have certainly changed. When he
was a teenager, he used to frown whenever anyone told a joke.” He pauses, to look right at
Gin. “Well, unless it was Rangiku.” Gin says nothing, but he doesn’t frown. Rangiku
squeezes his thigh under the table, helping him maintain his cheerful indifference.

Momo looks around the table, deciding to fill the silence. She is wearing a red wrap dress and
red lipstick, which almost do the trick of making her look bright and fresh faced. She looks
around with a smile.

“I made pork belly, with a recipe I found in this new cookbook I found,” she says, “I hope
everyone likes it.” The food does smell delicious, and Gin and Byakuya are, at the very least,
hoping to get a decent free meal.

“It smells very good,” Rangiku says, reassuring Momo, who beams. She turns to Aizen.

“Would you cut it?” she asks. Aizen smiles at her, and everyone can tell that she is tucking
that compliment into her heart. Everyone passes their plate to Aizen, listening to Momo talk
about the kids, who are at the sitter for the evening, and all about her plans for the garden. No
one says anything, except Izuru and Rangiku, who encourage Momo to speak. Gin and
Byakuya say nothing, unless they are directly addressed, and even then, it is one-word
answers.

Aizen looks at the two of them, and they can immediately tell that he is going to make their
lives difficult. It’s in the glimmer of his eyes.

“You two are awfully quiet,” Aizen says, “do you have no opinions on Momo’s garden?”
Byakuya looks at Momo with empty eyes, and Gin frowns.

“I don’t think about flowers,” Byakuya says. “Rukia has a few plants.”

“Rangiku has some nice plants,” Gin adds, refraining from saying anything snarky about
Momo’s hobbies while eating food she prepared.

“Rukia,” Aizen says in a velvet tone, “what kind of plants do you like to grow?” There is
nothing overtly suggestive in his tone, but he had the same expression on his face when
Rukia was in his office. Byakuya presses his lips together while Gin frowns. Rangiku looks at
Gin, confused by his expression.
“Well, I have a few succulents on my windowsills, nothing fancy,” Rukia says, “Byakuya
bought me a cactus the other day.” She smiles when she turns to Byakuya but is taken aback
by tense expression on his face.

“A cactus,” Aizen hums, “Byakuya, do you think that’s the kind of plant that a lovely girl like
your sister should be receiving?”

“They are hardy and practical. That is all that matters.” Byakuya replies.

“I would think that something pretty, like jade, would suit your sister,” Aizen says. “Have
you ever bought flowers for a girl before?” Byakuya says nothing, so Aizen grins, the way he
does when his boot is on Gin and Byakuya’s necks and turns to Rangiku. “Did he ever buy
you flowers?”

Rangiku digs her nails into Gin’s thigh, and he doesn’t say anything. Izuru stuffs a piece of
pork belly into his mouth and chews nervously, while Toushirou glares at the middle of the
table, so Momo can’t accuse him of giving Aizen the stink eye. Momo looks at Aizen, clearly
annoyed but afraid to say anything, lest she alienate him further. Byakuya and Rangiku both
glare at Aizen, who is still grinning. Rukia looks between Byakuya and Rangiku, as it dawns
on her why he wasn’t at home every night earlier in the year.

“No,” Byakuya says, “I never bought Rangiku flowers. As Gin said, she already has some
nice ones.” Gin opens his eyes and glares right at Aizen, who smiles even wider.

“I guess Rangiku isn’t the kind of girl you buy flowers for, is she? Gin, do you agree?” Gin
looks at Momo, who says nothing, and looks like a whipped dog. You are the most spineless
person I have ever met. Spineless, thoughtless—the banality of evil is personified within you,
Momo. Byakuya tries to remember that Momo is just a sad girl but big dumb cow eyes who
just wanted them to all have a nice meal together.

“Rangiku is the only reason I came back here.” Gin speaks with clarity and precision. “She
deserves the world, and I love her very much.” He puts his hand under the table, to place over
her own. Rangiku doesn’t look away from Aizen, but her hand relaxes under his.

“But no flowers,” Aizen hums, “well, she’s been around. I’m sure someone did. Maybe
Shuunsei.” He sits back in his chair, thinking of a real zinger, one that will force Gin onto the
offensive. “Everyone who asks gets a piece of Rangiku.”

A few things happen at once. Izuru and Toushirou make eye contact. Momo drains her glass
of wine. Rukia’s eyes go wide. Byakuya gives Aizen a murderous look. Rangiku turns to Gin,
who takes her hand off of his thigh and stands up.

“Ran,” he says, “we are leaving.”

“Gin…” Rangiku says, putting her hand on his arm.

“Now,” he says.

“But you two can’t go!” Momo says, “I bought a special dessert wine for Rangiku.”
“Are you deaf?” Gin asks, as Rangiku stands up and puts an arm around his waist, trying to
get him to start moving. He refuses to budge. “Are you okay with Aizen speaking about
Rangiku like that?” Momo blinks once, twice, and he feels a visceral disgust when she sticks
out her lower lip and begins to tear up. Izuru puts his hand on Momo’s shoulder, while
Toushirou crosses his arms.

“There is no need to raise your voice, Gin.” Aizen says, “I was merely stating a fact.” Gin
narrows his eyes.

“I will not set foot in this house again, unless you apologize to Rangiku.” Gin is doing his
best to repress the little boy who was terrified of Aizen, despite never being given a reason to
fear him. He is afraid of Aizen on an instinctual level, like he is a lion or wolf, something that
any person would be innately afraid of. Aizen grins, watching Gin.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a loss, since we both know that you hate it here,” Aizen says.

“I don’t hate it here, I hate you.” Gin takes a small solace in correcting Aizen. He didn’t
know he was capable of speaking so directly to Aizen until just now. No backhanded
comments or double speak would work, and he is at the age where he needs to start being
honest. Gin takes Rangiku’s hand and leads her down the hall, not bothering to look back at
the dinner party.

**

Gin holds Rangiku’s hand on the walk home. He hasn’t said anything since telling Aizen that
he hates him. Gin’s face is tight, and she can tell that he is upset. Aizen slut shaming her
doesn’t upset her, not one little bit. He is a filthy, rotten lizard who makes other people
miserable for fun, and she refuses to allow him the satisfaction of hurting her feelings.

“Gin?” she asks, stopping. He looks back at her. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” he asks. Rangiku sighs.

“I asked you first,” she says, “but yes, I’m fine. I have better things to worry about than
Aizen.” She squeezes Gin’s hand and his mouth twitches, before he turns away.

“I hate him.” He says, “he makes me feel so small, and the way he speaks about you is
entirely unacceptable. We shouldn’t have gone.” They are walking towards the town square;
they live just two blocks south.

“Gin, we had to go. For Momo.” The night is a little cold, and Rangiku shivers slightly.

“We should let Momo be delusional,” he says, “he’s a monster, and if she can’t see what he is
doing to her, then that is her problem.”

“Gin—”
“He did the same thing to my aunt.” Gin stops walking and looks at Rangiku. “He made her
feel crazy too.” She looks up at Gin, who never talks about his family.

“Oh.”

“She should’ve known better,” he says, “Momo should too.”

“Gin, when you’re in love, you only see what you want to see,” Rangiku says, pressing
herself to him. He looks away from her.

“That’s ridiculous.” Aizen’s talent is gaslighting people, but he’s obvious if you know how to
look. “You shouldn’t be so hard on her,” Rangiku says.

“Did you hear how she let him speak to you?” Gin asks, “she didn’t say anything, Ran.” She
sighs when he starts walking towards the centre of the town square. They cut across it so they
can get home faster.

“Gin, I was more upset about the way he tries to play you and Byakuya off each other,” she
says, “he’s scared of the two of you, I think.”

“He’s not scared,” Gin replies, “he just knows he can’t fool us. We’re still playthings to him.
We’re just more challenging to toy with.” If asked, Gin would argue that this is why Aizen
likes him and Byakuya. Rangiku frowns, stopping right in the middle of the square. The stars
are very bright.

“I care more about how he makes you feel,” Rangiku says, “because he is the reason you left,
isn’t he?” she looks right into him, and Gin can’t find it in himself to lie.

“Yes,” he says quietly, “I found him and Momo.”

“You aren’t going to leave again, right?” she asks in a small voice, “you’re staying?” Gin’s
mouth twitches when her real concern presents itself.

“Rangiku, I’m not going to leave because Aizen is being difficult.” Rangiku squeezes his
hand, and nods.

“Okay.”

They both look up at the stars, and it reminds Rangiku of when they were small. “We’ve done
this before, you know?”

“What?”

“Look up at the stars,” she says, smiling. “we were fourteen and you didn’t want to go
home.”

“I don’t blame me,” he says. Rangiku nods.

“I don’t either,” she says. She looks at the sky while Gin looks at her. He squeezes her hand,
and she looks at him.
“I’m not going to leave.” He says in a soft voice, opening his eyes.

“I know,” she says, squeezing his hand before pulling him home.

**

Rangiku looks up when Kenpachi pushes the door of the diner open, whistling, evidently in a
good mood. She has more or less let Aizen’s comments from last night slide. He isn’t worth
her time or energy. Today, she put on a really sexy, lacey bra and left an extra button undone,
just to spite him. Kenpachi smiles wide when he sees her.

“The gods have delivered!” He says, “I finally have a case to investigate.”

“Oh?”

“Some kids spray painted ‘pigs’ on Renji’s cruiser, in red spray paint.” Kenpachi says,
“finally, someone around here does something interesting.”

“That can’t even be a misdemeanor,” she replies, turning to pour his coffee. Juushirou sits at
the counter, reading his paper.

“Oh, I won’t charge them,” Kenpachi says, “they deserve to get off, just for entertaining me
for a few hours.”

“Shouldn’t you be investigating?” Juushirou asks. Kenpachi shrugs.

“Izuru is going to find them while Renji buys the stuff to clean the car. I’ll ask them a few
questions, then get them to clean it.” Kenpachi takes some money out of his pocket for
Rangiku, “I bet it was that Keigo kid. He’d do something that obvious.”

“Keigo is something else,” Rangiku says, handing Kenpachi the coffee and taking the money.
The door chime rings, and they all look up to see Byakuya come in.

“Byakuya,” Kenpachi says, “don’t you think it’s a beautiful day?”

“I’d like to speak to Rangiku,” he says, walking up to stand beside Kenpachi. He stares when
Kenpachi doesn’t take it as an immediate cue to leave. After a minute, Kenpachi realizes that
he is unwelcome, and saunters over to speak to Juushirou. Rangiku looks up at him, blinking.

“Hi Byakuya,” she says.

“I want to talk about what Aizen said,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. Rangiku
opens her mouth, but decides to close it and allow him to speak. He eyes her, before clearing
his throat. “I just wanted to say that those things he said about you aren’t true. I enjoyed our
time together, and I don’t think of you that way, and no one who knows you thinks that
either.” Byakuya pauses. “I would’ve bought you flowers if you had asked.” He nods
awkwardly, signalling that he’s done and would like to go now.
Rangiku smiles. “Thank you. Would you like some coffee?” Byakuya shakes his head.

“No,” he says, “I have to go back to work.” He nods once more and turns on his heel.
Rangiku watches his back and feels something inside of her glow. She doesn’t care about
what Aizen thinks of her, but she is happy to hear that his opinions are his, and his alone.

**

Gin and Rangiku lie in bed. He’s still angry with Aizen, which means that he is emotionally
distant. Gin has a way of becoming obsessively angry, when it comes to Aizen and Rangiku.
She remembers his numerous plots to enact revenge or defend her honor, none of which ever
came to pass, but that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t happen.

Rangiku rolls onto her side, setting her head on her hand as she pinches his nose. Gin frowns
and moves her hand away.

“Have you finally grown bored of me?” he asks, sitting up. Rangiku shakes her head. “Well,
why the attempt on my life?”

“I just wanted your attention, Gin.” Rangiku says. “You’re thinking about Aizen, when you
could be thinking about me.”

“I’m visualizing how gratifying it would be to feed him to an alligator.” Gin is only half-
joking. It’s not an alligator. It is a woodchipper. Rangiku pouts, sitting up.

“Why think about him? He can’t hurt us.” She moves to straddle him, sitting right on his bare
tummy. Gin frowns, unimpressed.

“Because he says mean things about you to get to me.” He touches her thigh. “You don’t
deserve to be talked about that way.” Aizen didn’t make those kinds of comments when they
were teenagers. He was, more or less, polite to Rangiku. “He never treated you like this when
we were younger.”

“That’s because he knows you came back for me,” she says. Rangiku puts her palm over
Gin’s heart, tilting her head. He twirls a lock of her hair around his finger. “He’s jealous that
you have a human heart, and that you are capable of love.”

“Aizen doesn’t know what love is,” Gin says. Rangiku shakes her head.

“That’s not true. He knows enough to know what it should look like. I think he looked for it,
in his own way.” Rangiku leans down, so her mouth hovers over Gin’s lower lip. “You’re a
person, something he will never be, and he is hopelessly jealous that you’ve surpassed him.”

“You think?”
“Being happy is the best revenge,” she says, “because he will never, ever take me away from
you.” Rangiku knows that Aizen isn’t capable of murder, and he knows better than to test her
resolve to be with Gin. She would wait forever.

“Never ever?” he asks quietly. She nods.

“Never ever.” Rangiku presses her lips to his and smiles when he flips them over.

She’s wearing one of her sexy nightgowns, the kind that can be pulled aside easily. The left
strap is already hanging off of her shoulder, and when she wraps her legs around his waist,
she feels his boxers against her as he hardens. She presses her tummy against his, and wraps
her arms around him, pressing her hands against his back. Gin deepens their kiss, and
Rangiku melts against him.

It never occurred to Gin that there is an alternative to ruining Aizen’s life. That his happiness
with Rangiku could be revenge enough. She is the real smart one, between the two of them.
Gin has always known this, but he wishes that he could tell other people about how smart she
is. He pushes the nightie up over her hips while she kisses his neck. Gin isn’t particularly
concerned about seeing her naked, so much as he wants to make her happy.

He moves away so that he can put his head between her legs. Rangiku whines as he moves
away, but she smiles when she realizes where he is going. Gin looks up to her, waiting for her
nod before he moves against her. His mouth presses against her and she sighs as he hums
against her. Rangiku sits up on her elbows to watch him, and she touches the crown of his
head as he slips his tongue inside of her.

He usually does this after they’ve had sex, since she doesn’t like waiting to be penetrated and
it tends to get rough. But tonight, he wants to be gentle with her, or at least, not be quite so
rough. He moves his mouth to her clit and slips a finger inside, smiling when he hears her
whine in the back of her throat. She presses herself to his mouth, and he goes where she asks.
Within minutes, she feels her tummy tighten and the familiar throb between her legs, like her
body is straining against itself, trying to reach out to Gin.

“Fuck,” she says, scratching his scalp. It makes the back of his neck tingle, so he slips
another finger inside and feels her go rigid against him. It’s so good that the back of her
knees sweat, and her nipples harden. She moans, wishing she could pull him inside.

He sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Rangiku sits up, and he watches
her pull the peachy satin nightgown off, and throw it over his head, onto the ground. He turns
his head to watch it, which is when she crawls up to him and touches him through his boxers.
Gin turns to eye her, amused that she is looking at him with this wide-eyed look like she has
never seen his penis before.

“Yes?” he asks. Rangiku sits back on her hands, still open to him.

“I want to put your dick in my mouth.” She says this in a very straightforward way. Gin
stands up and Rangiku pulls his boxers down, giving him time to step out of them before
sitting back on the bed beside her. She smiles before leaning over him, and he groans when
she takes him in her mouth.
 He watches the back of her head as she bobs up and down, and he wraps her hair around a
hand, and squeezes it into a fist every time he gets a little too close. Gin doesn’t pull her hair
or move his hips when she blows him, unless he’s asked. He’s polite that way. Gin feels the
back of her throat and he looks up at the ceiling, quietly thanking whatever cosmic force
decided to put him and Rangiku in the same place at the same time.

Not that he doesn’t feel that way all the time. It’s just extra strong when his dick is in her
mouth. He only looks down when she stops blowing him and looks up. There is a little bit of
saliva on her chin, and he returns her grin when she climbs onto his lap. He loves her even
more when she’s being gross, even though he will never admit it.

It usually hurts a little when he enters her, but they are both worked up enough that he more
or less slides in without any problems. She puts her hands on his face and kisses him deep
while he sets the pace. He pulls his face away before she can climb down his throat, and he
wraps his arms around her waist, hugging her to him. She rolls her hips with him, watching
him watch her pant and moan for him.

“Ran?” he asks.

“Yes?” she replies, putting her forehead against his. They both feel sparked up, so they move
even faster together. Gin’s mouth is close to hers, and he looks up into her eyes.

“I’m staying.”

“What?”

“I’m not leaving you again,” he says, grinning when he thrusts up a little hard and she moans.

“You promise?” she sighs.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” He feels himself begin to reach his limit, and he moves his
hands to grip her hips. Rangiku moves a hand between her legs, to help her along and
because it is gratifying to hear Gin make promises about their future, something he has never
really done before. She could masturbate to his promises alone.

“You’re going to stay?” she asks.

“I am going to stay with you, Ran.” She crushes her mouth to his, and when he feels her
come again, he lets himself go.

Chapter End Notes

All of Gin's problems could have been solved forever if he had just decided to be honest
with Rangiku and be happy with her. He really, really shouldn't have died (especially in
a world where Aizen lives, lol--also, how can a soul die?)
 A Punch in the Face
Chapter Summary

Boom.

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“I’m sick of the chase/ but I’m stupid in love”

Phoebe Bridgers, “Killer”

Gin thinks it’s funny that ‘my uncle’ in French is ‘mon oncle,’ which looks like monocle,
because Aizen is exactly the type of person who would wear one. Mon oncle Aizen wears a
monocle. Two months have passed since that horrible dinner party, and Aizen and Gin still
aren’t speaking, unless it is absolutely necessary. Gin spent Christmas with Rangiku’s
parents. Her parents are both enjoying their retirement, and they were happy to see Gin.
Rangiku’s mom even made him a stocking.

Gin is in his office, flipping through the first papers in his literature class. Apparently, he
didn’t completely scare Rukia off, because she actually switched into his class. Asked him
how his holiday break was and everything. She ended up with an A- in English, but based on
the paper she wrote last week, she is looking at a full A this term. He is handing the papers
back today, and he is looking forward to her reaction. I’ve gotten soft. But he doesn’t mind.
Being nice has its perks. Rangiku takes him everywhere she can, and he and Byakuya get to
ignore Aizen together. It’s the little things that make life sweet.

Aizen comes into the office, not saying anything to Gin. He does smile serenely when they
make eye contact, but Gin doesn’t care. As far as he is concerned, he has won. Aizen doesn’t
scare him anymore, because he is no longer a boy. Gin is an adult who no longer relies on
Aizen for anything.

He loves Rangiku with all of his heart and then some, and the thing she has given him is
actual freedom. He no longer thinks of himself in relation to Aizen, or Aizen at all. All of that
mental energy is now invested in other things. He reads for pleasure now, and he spends time
with Izuru while Rangiku is at work. Izuru has even talked Gin into getting drinks with him,
Renji and Byakuya. Renji does most of the talking, and in all honesty, he is just as much of a
loudmouth as ever, but he is entertaining. He isn’t hung up on Rangiku anymore, so when she
and Toushirou join them, it isn’t awkward.
It’s still weird when Kenpachi shows up, but Gin takes solace in knowing that it is weird for
everyone at the table except Rangiku. Many times, Rangiku and Kenpachi wander off to get
drunk pizza on their own, only for Gin to find them on the steps of the apartment he shares
with Rangiku. They always buy him a slice, too.

If asked, Gin would say that things are going very well, and can only be better. There is
nowhere to go but up.

**

Rangiku presses the cotton ball to the inside of her elbow. The nurse said that her results will
be back in two days, at most. Rangiku is already sure that she knows the answer, but she
won’t say anything until she has the official results.

If the situation were inverse, Gin would do the same for her. It’s because they both know that
the other really doesn’t need to be bothered if something isn’t a sure thing. Gin and Rangiku
never say ‘maybe’ or ‘possibly’ with the things that really matter. They’ve become more
honest with each other. While he is still a little tricky, Gin has become more direct with her,
now that he knows how anxious trying to read his mind makes her.

This morning, she woke up to him making breakfast, humming to himself. As she sat up in
her bed and watched him, she felt warm and happy. Like she was looking at the rest of her
life, but instead of being scared, she felt secure. When he was over for Christmas, her mother
asked him where he saw himself in the next few years. Her parents had been nervous when
he came back, knowing what his departure did to Rangiku, and they obviously wanted to
know whether or not he would leave again.

Rangiku had glared at her mother and was about to tell Gin not to answer the question, when
he said that he wants to continue teaching, and for Rangiku not to get tired of him. He even
put his hand over hers, a sign of unity and togetherness for her parents. Her mother said that
it sounded like a nice plan, and winked at Rangiku, who blushed. It was a very un-Gin
moment, but that somehow made it sweeter. Like he is determined to make it work.

Perhaps saying this is not like him isn’t right. Looking back, Gin, for all of his tricky
wordplay and doublespeak, has never walked out on her or made her question how much he
loves her. Leaving her did a number on her trust, but he has been actively working towards
having that trust again. Since cutting off Aizen, Gin seems freer. He was never a fearful
person, but he is happier, like he feels safer in the world.

Today, when he brought her a piece of toast and sat down in front of her, with his normal
smile on his face, she wanted to tell him about her appointment today. But he opened his
mouth first. I caught Ichigo asking Rukia why you like me so much. He had done his little
smirk. What should my answer be? She picked up the toast and smiled. You’ve trapped me.
My brain has melted. I am Gin-washed. He had laughed at the last one. He then said he had
to leave, and that he would see her later. He even kissed her on the forehead. Affection will
never come easily to him, because, as he’s told her, he knows how he feels so he finds it hard
to remember that it doesn’t mean that other people know. But he is getting better with her.
Seeing him come out of his shell has made her own heart grow bigger.

Rangiku smiles to herself as she looks up at the nurse. “Remember not to lift anything heavy
if you want to avoid bruising.” The nurse writes on a label, before sticking it on the vial of
blood.

“Okay. Thank you.” Rangiku stands up, reaching for her coat.

“I hope you get the results you want.” The nurse smiles as Rangiku puts on her coat and
picks up her purse.

“Me too,” she smiles.

**

Momo sits at the counter of the diner, her baby in her arms while her toddler sits on
Toushirou’s lap. Rangiku makes eye contact with Toushirou when he sticks a fry in his
mouth, while they listen to Momo describe her last fight with Aizen. “He’s keeping
something from me, I just know it.” She holds her baby a little too tightly, and the child
begins to squirm. “What could he be hiding from me?”

“What makes you think he is hiding something from you?” Izuru asks, sitting on the other
side of Momo.

“I can just tell,” she says softly. “It’s a feeling in my gut.” She looks down at the counter,
distraught. Rangiku, Izuru and Toushirou all look at each other. There is nothing any of them
can say. Either Momo will realize it, or she won’t. They all feel a little guilty for being
annoyed with her, but it is impossible to sit here and listen to her describe the same fight,
over and over and over again.

Rangiku opens her mouth to say something, when her cellphone blares. She’s been waiting
on that call from the doctor, so she makes an apologetic face as she picks up the phone. She
walks into the kitchen, where Iba is playing on a Game Boy. He nods at her as she picks up
the phone.

“Hello?” she asks.

“Is this Rangiku Matsumoto?” a voice asks.

“Speaking.”

“I have the results of your test.”

“Oh, perfect.” Rangiku sucks in a breath. “What is it?”

“Positive.”

**

Gin and Byakuya are standing in the foyer of the school, avoiding Aizen, who decided to
reorganize his office space. He was loud, so they both decided to leave and find somewhere
student free to eat their lunch. Byakuya is eating an apple while Gin is sipping his coffee,
when Aizen comes down the stairs, carrying a box.

“The office is free,” he says in a pleasant voice, “all my things are gone.” Gin frowns, while
Byakuya swallows a chunk of apple.

“Why are your things gone?” Byakuya asks. Aizen smiles serenely.

“Why, I’m moving.” He says this nonchalantly.

“Moving?” Gin says. Aizen turns to him, and nods.

“Yes,” he replies, “it’s time to go somewhere else.” Gin has never known Aizen to do a
selfless thing, and someone must be getting screwed by his plans.

“I wish Momo the best,” Gin says. Aizen tilts his head, and Gin sees the sadistic glimmer in
his eyes, dancing just below his pupils. Historically, Gin associates this expression with when
Aizen does something intentionally malicious.

“Tell her yourself,” he says, “she won’t be accompanying me.” Byakuya and Gin look at each
other. Out of everyone, they are perhaps the most familiar with how Momo’s heart beats for
Aizen, that she will do anything for just a scrap of his attention.

“Not accompanying you?” Byakuya asks. He does not want to deal with a distraught Momo.
Knowing her, she’ll come to the office and insist on sitting at Aizen’s desk, just to feel close
to him.

“I think it’s best for us to be apart. She can have the house, of course, and I’ll pay spousal
support.” It is clear that all of this is Aizen’s decision. Momo would never agree to any of it.

“Does she know?” Gin asks. Aizen smirks.

“I am taking a page out of your book and leaving without a word. It was very effective.”
Aizen looks out the window, smiling when he sees a yellow taxi roll up. “This way, I’m sure I
can return, and she’ll take me back. It worked with Ran.” Aizen opens the door, stepping out,
while Gin tenses his jaw. He looks outside, and he notes Rukia and Ichigo standing on the
steps, while Kenpachi and Renji are sitting outside, bored. But he focuses on Aizen’s big,
broad back.
When Gin was in college, people had a habit of starting bar fights with him. He has a smirk
and a manner of speaking that seem to invite conflict. As a result, he learned how to throw a
punch or two, and Rangiku commented that he had filled out in his time away. Byakuya, on
the other hand, has known how to fight since he was thirteen and an older cousin taught him
how, just for kicks. Those skills have come in handy more times than Byakuya can count,
something that Hisana always frowned upon. Can’t you use your words? Her shaming of him
is why he hasn’t kicked Aizen’s ass all the way across this town. But he doesn’t think it
counts if he gives Gin a little nudge.

“You’re going to let him go like that?” Byakuya asks. Gin doesn’t look at him, but his fists
clench. Aizen is halfway to the cab, and Gin decides to follow him.

“Aizen,” he says, walking out into the chilly air, “wait.”

“Yes?” Aizen asks, setting his box on top of the cab.

“Why are you going?” Gin asks. Aizen blinks, before chuckling to himself. Gin isn’t paying
attention, but Aizen can see everyone turning to look at their exchange, while Byakuya steps
out of the school.

“Because I feel like it,” he says, “I don’t want to be here, so I’m leaving.”

“What about Momo? Your kids?” Gin says, not recognizing himself. Since when do they
matter to me? Rangiku has made him soft in the head and the heart, and while it should
concern him, it doesn’t. Aizen grins.

“Were you thinking of Rangiku?” he asks. Neither notice Momo walking towards the school,
with Izuru and her kids in a stroller. Everyone is looking at Gin now.

All he can see is the object of his hatred. Gin has loathed Aizen since he was small, and while
letting go of that hatred has afforded him some peace, it comes roaring back as soon as Aizen
has Rangiku’s name in his mouth. Gin still feels guilty for what he did, and he doesn’t
understand why she waited. He knew she would, but that doesn’t mean he understands.
Couple that with the way Aizen has spoken about her, and any restraint Gin feels has been
murdered.

He doesn’t think when his arm winds back and he punches Aizen in the face, right below the
eye. He hears Kenpachi cackle behind him, but Gin is too busy throwing another punch and
then another. Years of anger and resentment bubble up, and he thinks about how much he
despises Aizen, for everything he did to his aunt, to Momo, all the things he has said about
Rukia and Rangiku. How small he makes Gin feel. The fact that Aizen is walking away from
his family and has the goddamn nerve to claim that he and Gin did the same thing.

A horrifying possibility presents itself: perhaps Aizen is right. That’s when Gin lands another
punch.

He hears Momo cry out, Kenpachi cackle, Rukia ask Byakuya to intervene, but he isn’t
actually paying attention to any of it. Aizen looks at him, nose bloody and still fucking
smirking. Gin is about to land another punch when he feels Renji’s arms hook around his, and
Izuru put himself in front of Aizen as Gin is hauled off. He kicks out and squirms, not yelling
but grunting.

“Calm down,” Renji says, “I’ll let go if you do that. I know why you did it.” Gin stops
struggling, breathing hard. Izuru is checking out Aizen, who seems fine, while the hapless
cab driver has gotten out of his car to make sure no blood is on it.

Kenpachi walks up to Gin, and he and Renji look up to see the sheriff wiping away a tear,
trying to collect himself. “Now, that was fun to watch,” he says.

“Sheriff,” Renji says, “with all due respect, is that what we really want to say?” Kenpachi
waves a hand, dismissing Renji.

“Abarai, you and Kira need to lighten the fuck up,” he says, “watching two dweebs duke it
out has made my morning. I’m not even going to press charges.” Renji says nothing, because
as an observer, he can now safely say that he would rather not get into a fight with Gin in the
same way that he would avoid a fight with Byakuya. Kenpachi looks at Gin. “If Renji lets
you go, are you going to take another swing?”

“No comment,” Gin pants. Kenpachi smirks, opening his mouth to reply when, out of
nowhere, Momo comes sailing towards him. Gin braces himself, prepared for her to gauge
his eyes out, when Byakuya steps before him and catches Momo around her waist.

“Let me go!” she cries.

“No,” Byakuya says, hauling her away from Gin.

“Gin punched Aizen,” Momo struggles against Byakuya.

“Do you want to know why?” Gin shouts. Momo frowns at him, squirming in Byakuya’s
arms.

“You did it because you’re a monster, and you hate anyone who is happier than you.” She
says this without a hint of self-awareness or irony. Gin laughs, coldly.

“You are so stupid,” Gin replies. “I bet a lobotomy would actually make you more
intelligent.”

“Why you…” Momo kicks out, and Gin smirks.

“Oh, you know what that means? I was worried that an eight-letter word would be too much
for you.” Gin says.

“Knock it off,” Renji mutters, “don’t kick her when she’s down.”

“I’m not down!” Momo yells. Byakuya grips her a little harder, but she won’t stop squirming.
Izuru is no longer looking at Aizen’s face. Instead, he is pushing the stroller, and the two kids
in it, to Ichigo and Rukia.
“Well, ask Aizen why I punched him in the face,” Gin says, “I’m sure he would love to tell
you!”

“Aizen,” Momo says, “what is Gin talking about?”

Aizen doesn’t answer immediately. Rather, he opens the cab and puts his box and briefcase in
the back, before turning to look at Momo. His face is swollen, and he is beginning to develop
a black eye. He appraises her for a few seconds, and she calms down, happy to have his
undivided attention. Byakuya doesn’t let her go, because he knows what’s coming, but Momo
doesn’t mind. She is clueless. Aizen walks up to her, and places both his hands on her face,
leaning down to look her right in the eye. Gin notices Byakuya’s grip tighten, almost like he
wants to pull her away, but they both know that she needs to hear this.

“When you go home, there is a file on my desk for you. Inside of it are divorce papers. You
get the house, and I’ll pay alimony, but I will not stay here and look at you a second longer.
Toushirou will gladly walk you through the paperwork.” Aizen smiles, “I’m leaving you,
forever. Goodbye, Momo.” He stands up and pats her on the head, ignoring the way her jaw
hangs or the wide-eyed, terrified look on her face.

It occurs to Gin that Momo probably doesn’t know who she is without Aizen, and he threw
her out like garbage. He doesn’t even say goodbye to their children. Gin starts struggling
again, and Renji makes an irritated noise. Aizen opens the door to the cab, and turns back to
look at Gin, while Momo desperately tries to make eye contact.

“Goodbye, Gin.” Aizen says, before getting into the cab. As it pulls away from the school,
Momo screams.

**

Gin sits in a holding cell, arms crossed, his back against the wall. He refused to settle down,
so while no charges were pressed, Kenpachi and Renji took him to the station. Not once, in
all his twenty-five years of life, did Gin ever think that he would end up here. Not that he’s
complaining, it’s just funny how life works out.

There is nothing to do here, no one to talk to. He knows being arrested is supposed to suck,
but Gin never thought it would be boring. No one to talk to, nothing to read. There isn’t even
a clock on the wall. He can hear Kenpachi in the next room, talking on the phone, though he
can’t make out what is being said. He thumps his head against the concrete wall, and stares
into space for what feels like an hour but could only have been twenty minutes, when Renji
walks in.

“C’mon,” he says, “someone has come to collect you.” Gin shrugs, standing up and following
Renji when he opens the cell and leads him back out to the main room.
Gin doesn’t know what he expected, but he certainly didn’t think Byakuya would be standing
there, holding Gin’s coat and tote, looking incredibly bored. “I had to find substitutes for all
of our classes.”

“Don’t sound so happy,” he says.

“We’re friends,” Byakuya says, making a face.

“So, you’re my friend now?” Gin walks up to Byakuya, hand out for his coat. “My, how my
luck has turned.” He takes his coat and puts it on, then takes his tote as Byakuya says
nothing. “Do you want to go…hang out?” The words sound wrong as soon as they come out
of Gin’s mouth. Byakuya looks like he is considering responding, when the door opens, and
Rangiku steps in, followed by a petite, Rukia lookalike. Rangiku looks around the station,
relaxing when she sees Gin. Relaxed doesn’t mean happy. Her mouth quirks up, and he can
tell that she is annoyed.

“Gin!” She marches over to him, and he frowns. All his feelings come rushing back; hatred,
anger, and the distinct fear that maybe Aizen is right. Perhaps they are the same.

“Ran,” he sighs, “how are you?”

“What happened?” she asks.

“Well…” he says, tilting his head side to side, trying to think of the right thing to say.

“Kenpachi said you punched Aizen in front of the school!” Rangiku’s eyes narrow when
she’s mad. He doesn’t know why she is so angry, considering she hates Aizen too.

“Why are you angry?” he asks, completely forgetting about everyone else in the room.

“Because you are in jail,” Rangiku says, “I told you to let him go!”

“And I did!” Gin replies, “and now he’s gone forever.”

Kenpachi comes out of his office, standing in the door, grinning as he watches the chaos
unfold before him. The woman who came in with Rangiku is looking around the station,
while Byakuya is stiff, looking right at her. Rangiku looks like she is trying not to throttle
Gin, which Kenpachi never thought he would see. He didn’t think Gin was capable of making
Rangiku mad, but he never thought Aizen would skip town, either.

“Why did you hit him?” Rangiku asks, hands on her hips. “We were completely done with
him, and now you’re in jail—”

“You make it sound like I’ve been charged with murder,” Gin interrupts her. This only makes
her angrier. She has good news for him, and then she got a call to pick him up from the police
station, and now Gin has the nerve to stand there and act like he has done nothing wrong.

“You shouldn’t have hit Aizen.” Rangiku’s voice is cold. Gin frowns. Never, has she ever,
used that kind of tone with him.
“He left Momo,” he says, “he was going to leave Momo without saying goodbye.”

“He is leaving Momo?” Rangiku looks a little unsure of herself, having second guessed
whether or not Gin really deserves to be yelled at.

“He left her, forever.” Gin says, “and want to know what he told me? He said that he and I
were the same.”

“Why do you listen to him, Gin?” Rangiku says, “I told you, you aren’t even remotely like
him.”

“He said that it’s because I left you, and you waited.” Gin says, “and Momo is going to wait.
We all know it.” Rangiku tilts her head and presses her lips together. “Would you have waited
like that?”

“What do you mean, Gin?” she asks softly. Gin steps right up to her, and Byakuya looks
away, which is when he makes eye contact with the woman Rangiku came in with. Hisana.
She smiles at him, and Byakuya feels his throat lock up.

Rangiku crosses her arms and looks up at Gin. “What do you mean?” she asks again.

“Would you have waited like Momo?” he asks, “did I…did I hurt you like Aizen hurt
Momo?” Rangiku blinks up at him.

“What?”

“Answer me,” he says, “would you have waited forever? Would you let me hurt you? Did I
do that to you?” Gin doesn’t really know where his feelings are coming from, but they are all
raw. He wants Rangiku to tell him that she would move on, that she would say good riddance
and find someone else. But they both know that if she didn’t do it before he came back, she
won’t do it if he were to leave again.

“You said you weren’t leaving,” she says in a slow voice, “it’s a non-issue.”

“Ran,” he says, “did I hurt you?”

“Yes,” she says slowly, “you did.” She bites her lip, because she knows it isn’t the answer he
wants to hear, and she’s afraid that, despite what he has promised, he will walk out of her life
again. Gin steps away from her and looks at the ground.

“And you still want to be with me?” he asks.

“Yes,” Rangiku says, “you hurt me, and I still want to be with you.” Rangiku says, “but don’t
do this.”

“Do what?”

“Flip all your anger and self-loathing onto me. I chose to wait for you, and I chose to take
you back. It’s not like Momo at all.” Rangiku rubs her temples.
“But you said you’d wait like her,” he says in a small voice. Rangiku sucks on the inside of
her cheek before replying.

“Because I choose to. But you’re not Aizen.” Rangiku puts her hands on either side of his
face and looks up at him. “I get scared that you’ll leave again, because what you did really
hurt me. It really, really hurt me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be over it. But I would also wait
for you forever. But that waiting for you, that isn’t something you did to me. That’s just how I
am. I am the kind of person who waits when I know what I want.” She rubs her thumbs over
his cheekbones, while he looks down at her.

It’s a very moving display. Renji and Izuru are at the edge of the room, watching their
exchange. Byakuya resents Gin and Rangiku for making him a part of a moment he wasn’t
supposed to see, as well as being in the police station and for Hisana being right there.
Kenpachi smiles to himself and walks back into his office, his appetite for chaos and mayhem
sated.

Gin puts his hands over Rangiku’s and presses them to his face. “I don’t want you to wait.”

“You’re not leaving me,” she says, forcefully. Gin frowns.

“If I get hit in the head with a rock, or eaten by an alligator, I don’t want you to wait,” he
says, “either way, I’m not leaving, but I need some…assurance that if I am forced to go, you
won’t be like Momo.” I would suicide from heaven. Rangiku smiles.

“You’re going to outlive me, dummy.”

“I’m being serious,” he says, frowning. Rangiku nods.

“Okay. I won’t wait,” she says.

“And I won’t leave.” Gin takes her hands from his face and lowers them gently. “There’s
somewhere I have to go. I’ll catch up with you at home.” He squeezes her hands before
stepping away, and Rangiku watches him.

When he is out the door, she remembers what she came here to tell him, and she makes a
face. Puffing her cheeks, she turns to Byakuya, who is being approached by the woman who
held the door open for her. “That was so romantic,” the woman says softly, “does that happen
around here often?”

“No,” Byakuya replies. Rangiku is surprised, because she would have expected to be the one
to speak first.

“So, are you all friends?” the woman asks.

“Yes,” Rangiku says, “Gin and I are friends with Byakuya.” The woman nods.

“Byakuya never mentioned anyone but Rukia,” she says, “I didn’t know this town had so
much charm.” Rangiku looks at Byakuya, whose face looks tight. She then looks at the
woman, who is smiling at him, who is also, clearly, a little nervous.
“I’m Rangiku, by the way,” she says, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yes, it is nice to meet you,” the woman says, “my name is Hisana.”

**

Gin walked all the way to Aizen’s house. Well, he supposes that it belongs to Momo, now.
She is sitting on the steps, crying, while her two kids are sleeping in the stroller. Gin doesn’t
say anything as he approaches, but when she hears his footsteps, she looks up. She frowns at
him, but otherwise, says nothing as he walks up the steps, to the porch, and sits down beside
her.

He doesn’t particularly like Momo, but what Aizen did to her isn’t her fault. People should
have stepped in and protected her. Maybe if I had stayed and said something… But then, his
cousins wouldn’t exist and well, it’s kind of evil to wish that someone had never been born,
even if it is inadvertent.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. Gin shrugs.

“I got out of jail, and this was the first place I wanted to go to.” He looks down at the front
lawn, with the melting snow and slush and tufts of green grass that characterize late January.

“He always liked you,” Momo said, “you were so mean to him, but you were always his
favorite.” Momo wraps her arms around her legs, pressing her chest to her thighs.

“I always hated him,” Gin says, “he liked that about me. I could always see the real Aizen.”
He supposes that, in the end, he was the only person who could ever really see Aizen, and all
beings, lizards or otherwise, desire to be seen as they are by another being. Gin’s hatred was
acknowledgement of who Aizen really is, and no one else gave it to him so readily.

“I wanted to be a family,” Momo says quietly, “all I wanted was a happy family.” She bursts
into tears, and Gin watches her cry into her hands. He doesn’t reach out to her, because he
doesn’t like her enough, but he does sit there.

“Momo,” he says, “you still have a family, and you can still be happy.”

“But I wanted that with Aizen,” she sobs.

“But you weren’t happy, and he wasn’t treating you like family.” Momo looks up at him, her
lower lip quivering.

“And what should I do now?” she asks, bitter.

“Live and be glad that you got away from him in one piece,” Gin stands up, and begins to
walk down the stairs. “If my cousins need me, you know where to find me.” He doesn’t turn
back to wave, but he leaves knowing that he will probably hear from her in the near future.
 **

When Gin opens the door, he isn’t surprised by the candles and incense. Nor is he surprised
by the soft croon of Lana Del Rey, a singer he doesn’t particularly mind but will never get
away from, now that he’s chosen Ran. She is sitting on the loveseat, reading a magazine as
she usually does. The whole place is still tidy, which is a little bit of a surprise. But the real
one is when he looks at the coffee table, and doesn’t see two open beers, when today has
definitely been a ‘have a can of beer as soon as you get home’ kind of day. On days like
today, he would expect to come home in time for her third drink.

He takes off his boots and takes off his coat, sighing loudly. “Life is such a chore,” he hums.
She watches him walk towards the kitchen. “Want a beer?” he asks, opening the fridge.

“No,” Rangiku hums. Gin turns and looks at her, blinking. “What?”

“I don’t think I have ever heard you turn down a drink.” He closes the door and walks over to
the couch. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” she says, moving her legs so he can sit down. “Things are just
changing.”

“Changing,” he replies, sitting down.

“Yes,” she says, putting her magazine on the coffee table. “I’m quitting drinking, you’re a
hardened criminal…”

“I was in a holding cell for an hour,” Gin replies, smiling when she climbs onto his lap. She
wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his jaw.

“It’s kinda hot,” she says, “you going to jail for punching Aizen out.” Gin shrugs.

“Someone had to do it, why not me?” he asks.

“Kenpachi said he was impressed,” Rangiku sits back and smiles at Gin. “He didn’t think you
could throw a punch like that.”

“I’m scrappy,” Gin hums. “So, why aren’t you drinking?” Rangiku smiles, glad to finally,
finally be the one with the big surprise.

“Well, let’s see,” she says, “Patient is a woman, age twenty-five, presenting with fatigue,
light spotting, cramping. Patient has missed her period, and regularly engages in unprotected
sexual intercourse.”

“Only,” Gin says, “not regularly.” It takes him another second to put the pieces together.
When he does, he looks up at her, mouth open like a fish.
 “I didn’t know your face could do that,” she smiles, “that’s kind of funny.” She pokes his
cheek with her point finger.

“You’re pregnant and making jokes about my face,” he says in a flat voice.

“I wanted to tell you in the police station,” she hums, “but then I saw you standing there like
an asshole and well…that didn’t happen. But now you know.” Rangiku smiles brightly at
him. “We don’t even have to keep it.” Gin rolls his eyes.

“Of course, we are keeping it,” he says, “let it be known that I am Team Keeping It.”

“Good,” she says, “because so am I.” The stare into each other’s eyes until it’s awkward and
they both start giggling.

“So, what do we now?” he asks. Rangiku shrugs.

“I guess we figure out how we’re going to tell everyone, and then we’ll sit around for eight
months, waiting for your creepy baby to come out of me,” she says.

“My creepy baby?” he asks, “Who says you aren’t the creep?” Gin puts his finger right over
her heart, and Rangiku smiles.

“Because you’re the one with the weirdo smile. I’ll love them forever if they smile like you,”
she says, “I adore you and our creepy baby with my whole heart.”

“You’re definitely the bigger weirdo,” he says. Rangiku beams, taking it as a compliment.
Gin twirls a lock of her hair around his finger, smiling. “We should probably move,” he
replies. “Somewhere nice, with a yard.”

“A yard, huh?” she asks, voice soft. “And we are going to be happy?”

“Real happy.” Obnoxiously so.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for reading this story. It was really more about my own ambivalence about
being an 'adult,' but I hope it was entertaining. I might pick with with Byakuya and
Hisana, or write about Rangiku and Byakuya, or do more GinRan. I don't know. I'm
going to re-read all the books in this story and then some, and see where I end up. Thank
you for reading!
End Notes

A reader asked if I would ever write a Bleach fic, and then this popped into my head in a
moment of despair.

The Nabokov quote from Lolita isn't mine, and he would probably be horrified to know that
it inspired the title of a Bleach fan fic. Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a comment! I
always appreciate them.

Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!