#and fverse gin's endgame's aigin anyways.

[godkilller]

--- Perhaps it is not even his own anger that lingers. It is a real possibility, since his soul is patched together with the lives of so many others that knew Gin, too, once upon a time. Perhaps that resentment burning at his fingertips is not solely his own, though he supposes he has the most cause to be angry, bested only, perhaps, by Rangiku.

Black fingers flex and curl, catching the light of the setting sun with a slight, orange flicker. If he had used his flesh and blood hand, perhaps it would have hurt. He may have cracked a knuckle. But the vastness of the artificial parts of him seemed more fitting, and they hit harder, too. He cannot remember ever having been able to make his captain take steps back like that. Then again.. He also cannot remember ever coming at his captain with intent to hurt the way he had now. He'd been so devoted then.

But to the question he cannot truly answer affirmatively. He stares at him, and though the anger is still there, it feels.. Distant from him. Like it is dimming. Perhaps he is slowly returning to his unfeeling self. Death did that, really. It gave perspective, in a way. Izuru has been having trouble feeing much of anything. On that score, the rage had been a nice change of pace..

He clucks his tongue, watching as Gin slinks a few steps around, the same way he remembers him to have done, way back when. That seemed ages ago now, yet his ex-captain seemed not to have changed a bit. Though Izuru had never had that ire turned towards him in this way; oppressing, like Wabisuke's chains yanking you down. "You owed me one." He countered, equally cold, though possibly for vastly different reasons. It is an evening of the score, though how exactly Gin might pay back the damage done to the Third, the Gotei at large, and to Rangiku.. Izuru personally.. Izuru cannot even begin to count how many punches that would take.

Gin, of course, is not to be underestimated, but Izuru, being beyond caring, does not retreat, nor attack. "What are you going to do, kill me?" He smiled. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm already dead."

          RANGIKU'S ANGER WAS HER OWN, Gin would admonish Izuru in a heartbeat if the dead man made it known that this behavior was in some way an attempt to white-knight his way through Gin and Rangiku's entire ordeal. She could speak for herself, he'd have Izuru know, and she was more than welcome to come punch him too. But Gin wasn't a mind reader, so Izuru's thoughts were safe from Gin's scrutiny... and thus far he and Rangiku were on terms that didn't immediately call for violence to cope. Last he checked, at least.

          His and Rangiku's relationship was not something they ever advertised, nor did it ever go beyond childhood friends who fell apart as they hit adulthood -- as Aizen eclipsed Gin's life. Their past was in the past, and Gin was not some lurking monster that she needed rescuing from in the form of a friend seemingly standing up for her when the words had already been spoken, the farewell already cast, their ways separated; HE WASN'T EVEN IN HER LIFE ANYMORE. Hadn't been for some time now. Being a war criminal didn't exactly earn him the visitor's pass to the Seireitei. She was moving on, something Gin himself had wanted her to do from the start, so that was that.

          But Izuru's pain was his own, and Gin would face it. Face it, yes, but never bow to it, he'd not grovel because what good would that do? Izuru's unhappiness was, at this rate, buried deep -- no words or actions Gin performed would lessen it. And he honestly didn't care enough to try, not anymore. If this was more than two years ago, if Izuru had approached then? Then Gin wouldn't've been so closed off. In fact, he could have seen himself bowing down for forgiveness then. Forehead to the ground, awaiting either punishment or rejection or a mixture of indifference and dismissal. Not acceptance. Gin wouldn't ever be delusional enough to expect that. He wasn't a fucking idiot. Nor nearly as self-absorbed as others believed him to be.

          They were both numb in their own ways. And thus Gin smiled and swayed, continuing his slow circling steps. Letting that power still seethe down against Izuru's shoulders. Gin's own were slumped, a billowing of that emptied right sleeve contrasting to Izuru's artificial limb. Both mangled, dead men still walking, weren't they? Ruined and rotting.

          ❝ Y'misunderstand. If I wanted ya dead I would've killed ya instantly. Besides, y'want it too much -- despite, as you said yerself, bein' dead already. ❞

CONTINUED FROM HERE.

#[ roleplay ] predator; murder on his mind & hymns on his tongue #[ verse: failure ] i am healing by mistake; rome is also built on ruins #whEW GIN'S SO DONE I'M SORRY. no actually no i'm not sorry. #he can be a little Done(tm) as a treat - me to myself writing this. #also gonna go ahead and lowkey tag this for #[ dynamic: gin and aizen ] know this; either i devour you or you devour me #since there's lowkey anti-ginran sentiment here. #and fverse gin's endgame's aigin anyways. #he's a lil less interested in being on his Good Behavior since uh -- #he's got nothin' to lose.