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godkilller · 3 years

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DRABBLE // REDEMPTION VERSE.

THERE WERE STILL SPECKS OF BLOOD ON THE LIGHT BLUE WRAPPINGS, and Gin surmised it was his own, not Aizen’s, from when his Zanpakuto had been tucked within the folds of his crimson-stained white robes. Not drawn, not used in defense, no, nestled away whilst its master was cut down. A few small blemishes ultimately missed by its temporary keepers, the confiscated blade had been otherwise cleaned and stored away, kept sealed, awaiting something. Gin hadn’t seen it since that day; a whirlwind of destruction, that gleaming blade, toying with the Kurosaki kid via collapsing buildings cut like they were brittle things. Then, plunging, biting, devouring that gaping hole into Aizen’s chest, filled only by a suspended Hogyoku agleam in the pale light of its slain host... falling, falling, and falling right into his waiting hand.

Shinso hadn’t been the last thing Gin’s right hand held, after all.

But, the Zanpakuto had been the most familiar with that particular palm instead. Now, as the Second Division Shinigami patiently extended the sheathed weapon out for Gin to take, it felt utterly different...

There was a seal still placed on it, akin to a muzzle for the spirit-housing sword to not so loudly beckon for its master whilst kept away, so an absence of presence, of connection, felt relatively normal; to be expected. Yet, there was more.

SOMETHING WAS OFF. It felt... clumsy. This was not the grip meant to slay anything, this was some messy hold meant better for a broom than a sword. He turned it in his hand, then adjusted his grip lower towards the center of its sheathe to find balance as if that would help his derailed experience. Shinso was wrong. Heavier. No, lighter, not quite right. Instinctively, Gin shifted to consider slipping the sheathed blade into its place at his hip, though found he needed to switch sides mid-motion, which he did so quickly to remedy the mistake. SLOWLY, SHINSO FOUND ITS PLACE AT GIN’S RIGHT SIDE, the opposite side that he was accustomed to, adding more fuel to the fires of his disorientation.

Rangiku was quick in thanking the guards in Gin’s stead, a cheery and upbeat tone meant to swiftly dismiss them without outright saying it; a classic, though he hoped she felt no strain in the act. Gin turned to leave halfway through, knowing full well that their anticipation couldn’t be appeased no matter Rangiku’s passive aggressive urging — they were waiting for Gin to clear the grounds in accordance with his reinstatement regulations. RIGHTFULLY NERVOUS, having at last handed back an ex-criminal his beloved and powerful weapon. Even at half-strength, Gin reckoned he could level the Gotei 13′s various barracks in the surrounding area within one fell swoop.

That is, if he even had it in him anymore to do so.

Rangiku caught up to him shortly, especially pleased with herself, made unaware of Gin’s quiet worry; could he even manage his Shikai at this level of discomfort and disarray ?

❝ I actually got them to give you the whole day, you know, instead of the three hour limit they wanted you to do at first? I mean, that was ridiculous, who wants to train with such a strict schedule anyways? It takes me hours just to get Haineko to say a sentence of something useful to me. The last thing I’d need would be to feel rushed. ❞

RANGIKU’S ATTEMPT AT CONVERSING NORMALLY OVER AN ABNORMAL SITUATION — GIN NEEDING PERMISSION TO HAVE HIS SWORD — WAS APPRECIATED.

❝ How long’s it been since ya tried talkin’ with her ? Maybe you oughtta take the day, too. ❞ Gin kept his stride despite Rangiku’s slowing a step or two in response.

❝ Don’t poke fun, I’m respecting her space. ❞ A huff, a pout. Rangiku’s hand flew back by habit to rest on the hilt of her sword as though a reassuring shoulder pat whilst coming to the defense of a friend. Haineko was not an easy spirit, Gin knew that much from her various complaints about any meditation being ‘time spent wasted’, mostly. HE WOULDN’T JUDGE, but he also couldn’t help but wonder... did the spirit feel like it was missing something, was Haineko so temperamental about helping Rangiku become stronger because it was a Zanpakuto with a gaping wound ? Was she unable to ascend any further because of what Aizen took ?

That was a topic for another day. Gin smiled, instead, and kept matters light.

❝ Is that what they’re callin’ it these days ? ❞

RANGIKU SHOT HIM A LOOK, the look, and Gin relented to her.

❝ Alright, alright — you’re right. ❞

They walked towards the gates leading beyond the Seireitei together, quiet, for the rest of their route. IT WAS NICE OUTSIDE, a light breeze on a cool day, and the sun was shining past the curtain of gray that had been the previous few days, making its light feel all the warmer despite winter’s telltale chill. The two Shinigami took to a path through the Northern Rukongai, towards the mountainous range far beyond, avoiding the cleared streets for less commotion and conflict with the residents lurking within their shacks. INSTEAD, THEY TOOK THE SCENIC ROUTE, crunching leaves and swaying trees above, brisk, they both knew where to go, even if things had changed since the last century or so. The clearing was vast, outlined by barren trees towards the outskirts of a vacant skeleton row of houses left abandoned, dry dirt at their feet telltale of grounds over-farmed for rare nutrients. Rangiku idly unpacked their provisions; a decently sized blanket geared towards a picnic set-up, a few snacks packed lovingly, some sake bottles ( of course she would ) ... and at that point Gin turned away to see her unearth nothing further, shaking his head yet smiling all the same. He surveyed their space, the trees, and hummed softly.

❝ Dunno — ❞ he projected his voice back to her as he gazed out, then scuffed his foot against the dirt as though testing it, an absent fidget. Looking back to her as she situated their little day outdoors, he couldn’t help but recall the tremoring fracture of Haineko as it absorbed Shinso’s impact, meant for an unconscious Hinamori. HE ALMOST BROKE HER SWORD THEN, back when he had far more control, and now...

❝ ... Maybe y’shouldn’t be out here with me, I might nick ya. ❞ Their eyes met for a brief moment before hers went back down to arranging their things, busywork as she thought. Gin watched. She seemed to catch his uncertainty, or at least a portion of it.

❝ Well... how about we start small... ❞ Rangiku replied with a gentle hum, then subsequently pat the space next to her as she situated herself onto the blanket, with Haineko on the opposing side, sheathed and set proper. Gin obeyed, approaching and slowly lowering himself down next to her as desired. He slid Shinso free from his waist, then set it down in a way which mirrored Rangiku, head tilting at her suggestion. ❝ Let’s both drop in and say hi. That’s easy, right ? ❞

❝ Thought y’were givin’ her space. ❞ Gin eyed her with a weakened playfulness.

❝ The lengths I’ll go for you. ❞ SHE DID NOT MISS A BEAT.

Fair enough, Jinzen it was. Gin shrugged and sighed out, then took Shinso to place the sheathed blade into position across his legs within his lap. He sneakily peered at Rangiku for a moment as she also assumed the meditative position, endearingly so, especially the subtle frown of concentration caressing her expression, the fluttered eyelashes pressing closed in focus, the stray hairs tickling at her temples with the slightest kiss of a breeze. Gin hesitated only a second longer, then shifted and closed his eyes, too.

THE CONNECTION SURGED WITHIN AN INSTANT.

Whipping winds rushed around him, and he was no longer seated within a pleasant clearing, dirt and grass and swaying trees, no. GIN WAS WITHIN A BARREN WORLD NOW, assaulted by snow and ice and freezing air that ripped at his form. When he opened his eyes to seek the giant serpent within his inner world, the space not even two steps ahead of him wasn’t visible past the blizzard and downpour of snow and icy mist, graying his surroundings in such brutality that nary an outstretched hand could be seen, let alone a mountainous range of sleek silver scales stretching for kilometers down a frozen lake. If he couldn’t see Shinso, then the near-blind spirit certainly couldn’t see him. GIN VENTURED OUT ONTO THE ICY SURFACE MADE SMOOTH, black shoes the sole contrast in an otherwise white outfit — ah, wait, Gin stopped to inspect himself, a jarring moment of two hands raised to observe a familiar pale outfit he hadn’t been wearing prior to entering this world; Shinso hadn’t seen him since Karakura Town, of course, so perhaps there had been a disconnect in what he was wearing when manifested... among other things which needed updating. Gin flexed his right hand, curious, and then clutched it shut. It felt cold, no aid to be given by his current environment, but it was distinctly more numb than his left. Odd.

Clearly, they needed some catching up.

Careful steps slid forward across the frozen water, though Gin did not fear falling through; it rarely thawed, he must’ve been just a kid when it was thinned enough for his curious childish eyes to catch fish swimming beneath his feet. Sometimes the snow died down to a gentle dusting, a pleasant whisper of winter as opposed to this oppressive force. Gin did not shiver quite yet, though shielded his eyes in searching for his Zanpakuto’s massive spirit; SURELY HE’D SPOT HIM BY NOW...

Maybe he’d taken shelter, in which case Gin doubled back from wandering across the stilled lake, treaded back through heavy snow till it reached his knees and numbed his legs with a wet clinging chill. NOW he was shivering...

❝ Shinso ?! ❞ Though Gin did not normally SHOUT, he attempted to do so now, only for it to feel as though his voice had been swept away by the winds and swallowed right up. No luck, he’d just have to go looking around; the shack had to be his next best bet, perhaps his spirit wasn’t in its truest form right now, hunkered down to survive the turmoil and relentless weather beneath a rickety old wooden home not nearly big enough for a thirteen kilometer serpent dragon to squeeze into. Gin had half the mind to Shunpo over, make things quick, but with the winds and howling pelts of snow, he couldn’t quite tell which direction to go. At least, a few spare boards of wood knocked against his ankle, a hissing collision that told Gin to veer right, THERE IT WAS, somehow — almost practically buried, this pathetic thing he called home once, long ago. The raised point of its triangular rooftop was half caved, that same damned spot as always seemed to have given way for the ice and snow to pour in. The entryway was completely swallowed, snow climbing to the last few breaths of its threshold. Gin would have to dig.

By the time an opening presented itself, his hands were sufficiently numbed, reddened and bared till he felt blistering begin from the bite of cold... but at the very least he could wedge his way inside —— small quarters, and half was obstructed from the pile pooling in at the doorway, and another opening from the roof let snow pillar upwards in the pale light filtering through. THE SHACK MADE EVERYTHING SOUND QUIETER, softened sounds kept at bay via the buried snow packing its wooden frame into place. IT WAS SMALL ENOUGH FOR GIN TO KNOW THAT HE WAS ALONE IN HERE, no one else could be curled up in any corner, and he braced himself against the neighboring wall once he finished wriggling through the snow. He shook both his hands to get feeling back into them, but his left merely stung as his right moved in numbed silence. On the dirt floor, a gleam caught Gin’s eyes.

There, disregarded on the ground, was his blade.

Gin took it, breathed in, and then turned to clamber his way back outside. Shinso had to be near, on the lake somewhere, for this sword to be laying around. THERE WAS NOWHERE ELSE TO GO, A SIMPLE ABYSS. Maybe the serpent had traveled across the stretching grand lake fully, into the mountainous horizon beyond ? Had his Zanpakuto spirit retreated inward so thoroughly ? Well, now Gin had the blade, so he could hone in, at the very least, if he got warm. Speaking of warm, IT WAS FREEZING !

❝ Who’re ya, HYORINMARU now ?! ❞ A futile prod at the absent spirit thusly swallowed by the winds again. Gin kept his stride onto the lake again, glad to be freed from knee-high heavy snow swallowing his every step. Here, he could glide across the sleek surface with a single step, the frozen waters only subtly dusted by snow as the winds stole all else and kicked it back up into the cold air. Gin huffed out a visible breath, then veered onwards.

The first thrum of energy, awakening, wasn’t quite felt; his palm was completely numbed into a state of occasional biting stings, hot across the rayskin gripped within a raw palm, and Gin thought nothing of it. Until the second pulse, a shudder cracking the ground beneath his feet —— and the blade in his hand was the beacon, the epicenter for the following waves, tremors, threatening to dart another fissure across the glassy ice below. Gin fought instincts to retreat, and instead knelt down to inspect the lake’s surface. FROSTED, CAPTURED BUBBLES OF AIR AND OTHER DEBRIS WITHIN THE WATER AS IT WAS FROZEN MADE FOR AN IMPERFECT REFLECTIVE SURFACE, and thus Gin was able to squint past its thick ice and into the depths, in which a gleam of rows of silver scales laid dormant below.

It was Shinso in all of his magnificent glory, stretching its large snake-like husk for miles beneath the ice, swirling its silver-armored hide as though frozen in the act of coiling, slithering, writhing out in a gaping expression, massive fangs shrinking Gin in size, mouth opened wide just underneath where its master now stood, forked tongue reaching blindly out for the surface it did not breech. AH, HE MUST HAVE DROWNED INTO THE ICY WATERS, capsizing during Gin’s downfall, and then stolen away by the Second Division to never recover. Locked into a frozen tomb.

The blade beckoned within his hand, and he knew Shinso needed more than some idling observations. FREEDOM.

Gin plunged his blade into the ice, stabbed deep, then withdrew it to stab and chip again at another spot, cutting and wedging the blade in attempts to fracture the frozen lake. IT WAS MINISCULE, HIS EFFORTS WITH A SMALL BLADE, but bit by bit ... Gin reckoned he could carve the spirit free with the dormant wakizashi in his hand, all thirteen kilometers of him if need be...

There was blood mixed with chunks of shattered ice, shreds of snow and frozen water tainted by crimson as Gin worked with blistering hands rubbed raw in the cold. HE WAS CERTAIN HE COULDNT FEEL HIS FINGERS ANYMORE, and both hands were needed to anchor his strikes downward as he worked to free his frozen companion from the ice. Gin couldn’t let go either, his hands were both stiff and clamped shut around his weapon; like it or not, this was his only option. By now, there was an ample section around the grand snake’s snout almost to the point in which Gin could reach down and touch scales rather than ice. HE STILL HAD PLENTY MORE SNAKE TO DIG OUT, and kept to his duty despite the sting of winter beating him down. He must’ve dug for hours more, clearing out adequate space around the serpent’s head. Gin paused to breathe, having clambered his way down towards the beginnings of Shinso’s throat beneath the smooth surface, and quietly shivered into a curled position during his break. HE COULDN’T STOP SHAKING NOW...

❝ Th-this would be easier i-if I h...ad a shovel, y’know, ❞ Gin shuddered and clamped his jaw, then focused back on keeping his momentum, his motivation, his drive — he struck his blade back into the ice. A tremor shook the lake again, odd sounds creaking and groaning, echoing, rebounding into the abyss as the ice shifted beneath Gin’s feet. IN AN INSTANT, THE ICE BEGAN TO SPLIT, shattering and breaking apart into freezing waters below, and Gin was promptly swallowed into the depths.

Had he not been numbed by it all prior, Gin figured his subsequent drowning into icy waters would have struck his body like a building being slammed onto his chest. His lungs instantly jolted to a choking halt, and his entire frame went rigid in arrest, sent plunging down into swirling dark water, ripping currents — falling, falling, brittle to the bone with cold Gin felt akin to dying, shards of freezing glass pelting around him, and a final gasp of his lungs expelled the last of his air. SURELY HE WAS DYING, could he even die inside his inner world ? He couldn’t remember the specifics, the logic in him whispered something but he couldn’t hear it, and everything was fuzzy.

A solid surface struck him, lifted, until Gin breeched the surface in a splash and sputter, coughing and hacking at the water that managed to squeeze itself into his ragged breaths. THE WINDS WERE RELENTLESS STILL, merciless to his now soaked frame shivering atop the massive sleek scales of Shinso’s coiling body. From the corner of Gin’s eyes, half-shut by slickened bangs and wet hair already freezing in the winds, he saw the large shadow of Shinso’s raising head, the darting flick of his forked tongue casting a delayed dash of air displaced by its large, quick motion. Gin cracked a smile even in his pain, his shivering pathetic state.

❝ G-good to s...see ya, ❞ and a cough, a teeth-clattering shudder. Gin straightened the best he could, hunched for warmth he could not find, yet feeling a spark underneath the intense gaze of the serpent housing him. WAVES OF WATER CLASHED AGAINST KAMISHINI NO YARI’S MONSTROUS FORM BELOW, Gin was raised higher now, almost enough to cut above the low storm clouds up high, into the night sky beyond the gray. The serpent was its own mountain range, coils stretched beyond visibility and off across the rest of the grand lake now shattered below. HE COULD FEEL SHINSO’S RELIEF; at being released from his tomb, his state of suspended death, yet also at Gin, MORESO AT GIN, glad to see its master still alive.

BOOMING IN HIS TEMPLES, HIS MIND ALIGHT, NUMEROUS VOICES SPOKE AT ONCE...

Are you alright ( where did you go ) is Aizen still alive ( why did you not draw me out ) why did we not fight ( why did I feel you give in ) did we win ( where is Rangiku ) did Ichigo prevail ( did Karakura Town fall ) WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU ? WE DID NOT FADE SO WE KNEW YOU DID NOT DIE, AND YET... WE COULD ONLY WAIT AND DESPAIR !

❝ We — n-need to... t-talk. ❞

#[ drabble ] his silver tongue weaves words; but he doesn’t lie #[ verse: redemption ] i am healing by mistake; rome is also built on ruins #long post #wow this is pointlessly long.#ew.

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