Birds and Ships [Gin/Rangiku, PG-13]

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Title: Birds and Ships
Characters:  Gin/Rangiku
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He has turned himself into a snake, borne himself in reverse, for the sake of her. Gin hates it when Rangiku cries.
Genre: Romance, angst
A/N: I'm still not 100% happy with the ending, more like 90%, but I got so tired of messing with it. Also, it's supposed to be vague, as it was intended to be written from Gin's perspective, and he strikes me as a person to think in strange ways. Title inspired by song of the same name.

Everything is slower, now.

Lines and shapes veer to one side, and the sky swoops up in a rolling flip before Rangiku’s eyes. Colors are less bright, and the silk of his uniform becomes grainy beneath her fingertips. It slips past her hands, and blood wets her hair.

Rangiku stares at the sky, eyes blown open, like windows in the rain.

There is a flash of grey and silver, and he leaves her.

She’s a girl again, standing in the snow, with Gin’s silver hair shining in the wind. Rangiku doesn’t see the blood, only the harsh black of the uniform over his shoulders. Her bare feet no longer ache with the cold, and she feels like she’s on fire, the flames burning past her skin. Rangiku thinks she must be glowing, now. Surely, he can see the heat of fear in her eyes.

A Shinigami, he says. Gin wants to become a Shinigami.

Then he leaves her in the snow, and she doesn’t know why.

Rangiku breathes in, a ring of darkness snaking around her eyes. Gin has surely killed her. She wants to laugh, but the pain and heat of death dries it on her lips. His spirit energy becomes fainter and fainter as he returns to Aizen, before it disappears completely.

She stares blankly at the darkening sky above her, finding it strange that there aren’t any birds, and the clouds seem to drift by in slow motion.

Rangiku closes her eyes.

_______________________________________________________________

There are birds in her eyes.

Gin feels something in his chest as they flutter and beat their wings inside their blue cages.  He doesn’t like it when the birds try to fly away. They make her eyes so beautiful.

But Gin’s thinking in symbols again, and he has to concentrate, now. He bounds away from her falling figure, not letting himself look back. His clothing is still warm where she’d gripped him as she fell.  He can’t let himself think of her eyes, the way her lashes curl against her cheek, or her hair, which was stuck to her throat from sweat. He’s glad she isn’t dead.

That’s why he’s doing all this, after all.

What’s it like to be born in reverse?

Shinsou asked him this, once. Gin was still Aizen’s lieutenant, and it was just after Rangiku herself was admitted to the Gotei 13. He didn’t understand the question at the time, and gave his sword spirit no answer. There were more important things to think about.

But now, Gin is beginning to understand the question.

Gin has transformed himself into a snake, taking on its slickness, the coldblooded beat of its heart, its eyes and shining scales. Although many liken him to a fox, Gin thinks the description of a serpent more apt. He swallows anything in his path. People, memories, places. He tastes the air before venturing out for prey. Even now, he is busy tasting Aizen’s presence, waiting for a time to strike and curl himself around the enemy. He grips the tip of Aizen’s blade as Shinsou sinks into the man’s chest.

Light blooms in his hand, and Aizen’s screams are silent to Gin’s ears. He has the Hogyoku. He has it. It’s in his hand, shining and powerful and real, so Gin curls his snakelike fingers around it, and slithers away, as fast as he can go. His blood smells like death.

If Gin were to be honest (which he isn’t) he still can’t properly provide an answer for Shinsou.

What’s it like to be born in reverse, Gin?

I can’t really say. But I think I know.

He has turned himself into a snake, borne himself in reverse, for the sake of her.

_______________________________________________________________

“You have beautiful eyes, Rangiku.”

Rangiku feels herself blush, but in the dim lighting of the room, she’s certain Gin can’t see it. A fire blooms pathetically in the pit before them, the winter snow outside finally quiet. Through slats in the walls, she can see snowflakes falling, dazedly, down to earth.

She shivers and pulls her ragged kimono closer. Gin has wrapped strips of his own clothing around her freezing feet. They sit side by side for warmth, his arm around her shoulder, and Rangiku can feel him trembling beside her.

Rukongai is not forgiving to children.

“They remind me of the summer,” Gin says quietly, gazing at the fire, “they’re so blue, you know. I swear I can sometimes see birds flying in them.”

Rangiku laughs, voice hoarse. But it’s laughter, and Gin cherishes it all the same.

_______________________________________________________________

In the brief time between stopping in an alley and breathing in, Gin remembers the night he became a Shinigami. The man was a pitifully easy kill. He’d tugged the black clothes from the corpse, the body still stiff with the cold, blood turning to frost on Gin’s hands. He didn’t think about the blood or the man’s staring eyes, only of Rangiku, her voice calling him through the snow.

“I’m going to become a Shinigami,” Gin says.

The birds in her eyes flutter.

Gin opens his eyes and stares at the Hogyoku clutched in his palm, and the air is torn with screams of rage.

He watches through slit eyes as Aizen is encased in light, and the buildings tremble about them, the very air electric, glowing. What emerges is neither a man nor a creature, but Gin can’t help but stare, horribly. It’s not fair, he thinks, that Aizen has wings now. Snakes can’t fly. He has no chance.

“I win, Gin.”

He barely has time to hear those words before Aizen appears before him. Gin looks into his inhuman eyes, silver and purple, that gaze hard and terrible. Not like Rangiku’s.

 “I’m going to become a Shinigami,” Gin says.

“A Shinigami?”

Rangiku’s face is frightened, and he can see it glowing beneath her skin, a lamp in the storm. She’s always been like his lamp in the dark. Gin only nods. He doesn’t want to see her upset, so he leaves, the black robes billowing around him. A Shinigami. He’ll become anything, so she doesn’t cry again. Gin hates it when the birds in her sky-blue eyes flutter.

Blood wets his entire front as Aizen runs him through, having thrown his torn-off arm to the side. Through the haze of light and Aizen’s words, Gin finds it surprising that there’s so little pain, but he is on the edge of death, he remembers. It feels like his body is floating.

A blast throws the sky and ground on top of each other. The world still spins, even when Gin feels himself hit the concrete.

Far away, a familiar voice screams his name.

I failed, Rangiku. But I’m glad I could apologize.

Her screams take on a new sound, long, sobbing. She can’t even say his name, now. Gin opens his eyes, very slowly, he doesn’t want to see her cry, but she’s beautiful, beautiful. The birds are fluttering even harder, and a few escape to drop as tears upon his cheeks. Darkness is beginning to blot her away. His body feels cold and hot all at once.

This is what it’s like to be born in reverse, he thinks. He’s not a snake anymore, and Gin is happy for it.

“I’m going to become a Shinigami and change things. I’ll fix it. So you won’t have to cry anymore, Rangiku.”

I’ll turn myself in a snake, even if you can’t love me because of it. I don’t want to see you cry, Rangiku. I’m sorry. Sorry.

Gin breathes out, and closes his eyes