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A familiar clink broke through the comfortable silence, forcing Gin to look up from the book he’d been reading.
Aizen sat on the armchair, unseathed zanpakuto in hand. The fire Gin had nurtured burned hot and steady, casting a beautiful glow on the spotless metal.
“Gin,” Aizen called. “Come here.”
Gin stood up and closed the book before following that mesmerizing voice. His steps carried no hesitation as he approached.
He made himself comfortable on the armrest, unaffected by the dangerous gleam of Kyoka Suigetsu in Aizen’s hand.
“More than a hundred years ago, you asked me about this zanpakuto’s ability,” Aizen began saying, his tone soft, almost reminiscing.
Gin gave an affirmative sound, feeling utterly confused.
“Even after I explained everything in detail, you still didn’t seem satisfied. You probably thought you hid it well, but I could tell.”
“There was something else you wanted to ask back then, wasn’t there?”
Gin stilled, eyes narrowing.
For a moment, no one spoke. Gin barely dared to breathe.
Aizen searched his gaze, a subtle smile playing on his lips. “Give me your hand.”
Gin kept his guard up but did as he was told. His hand found Aizen’s, greedily soaking up the warmth that his body always seemed to lack.
Aizen carefully guided his hand to wrap around the sharp blade before letting go. Gin was silent, his heart beating rapidly in his chest for a reason he couldn’t quite grasp.
“What kinda game you playin’ with me?” Gin lightly asked. His voice carried the same playfulness as usual, but his hand around the blade had unintentionally tightened. He held it as firmly as he could without cutting himself, like he was afraid Aizen might use it against him at any second.
“This is it,” Aizen said calmly, eyes never leaving Gin’s face. “Kyōka Suigetsu’s weakness.”
Gin inhaled sharply, staring at Aizen in disbelief. His carefully constructed composure crumbled—broken for the first time—his reaction lay bare, with no hope of concealing it.
“As long as someone touches the blade before Complete Hypnosis is activated, they’ll be immune to its effects.”
Gin didn’t dare believe those words.
But lie or not, why was Aizen telling him this all of a sudden? What was he hoping to achieve?
It was a test. It had to be.
Gin had no idea what he was being tested for.
His hand trembled dangerously around the sharp edge, but Gin refused to let go. He wanted to get to the bottom of this. He had to play along.
“Why’re you tellin’ me this?”
To Gin’s surprise, Aizen didn’t answer right away. He stared at Gin unyieldingly, as if determined to break him.
And then—
“Of course, it’s because I trust you.”
Not to betray me was left unsaid.
Gin felt physically sick.
He knew this was nothing but an act.
That didn’t stop him from breaking under the weight of those words.
How cruel of you, Aizen Sousuke.
Gin shook so hard it looked like his own body was trying to tear itself apart. Rage consumed him like a wildfire, the kind that made it hard to breathe. His vision blurred from the sheer force of it. Blood pounded in his ears, drowning everything else out.
If Aizen said anything, Gin didn’t hear it.
A hand firmly grabbed his wrist. It snapped him out of it. Only then did he notice the bloody mess in front of him. The sharp edge had sliced deeply into his palm. Even now, with the pain starting to come in short bursts, he was still clinging to the blade like his life depended on it. Blood was spilling onto Aizen’s white kimono with no end in sight.
Gin let go. Aizen let go the moment he did. Kyōka Suigetsu hit the ground with a clink.
For a breath, Gin’s mind went blank. He just stared as Aizen cradled his injured hand. Then their eyes met.
Gin ripped his arm away and stood up.
“That’s enough,” he said coldly, turning his back.
“Can’t blame ya. I get it.”
“You thought I was young and easily swayed. That you could make me love you.”
A pause.
“And you were right,” he added with a bitter smile.
Aizen stood up at that. Gin kept talking, unbothered.
“You wanted to test me. See if I’d really do it. If I’d really turn on you, even if—”
The hickeys from the night before throbbed. Gin winced. He didn’t finish the sentence.
Aizen was a cruel bastard. Gin was just plain stubborn.
He’d always been a good liar.
He just never figured he was this good.
Sometimes, even he almost believed the things spilling from his mouth.
Was it so far-fetched? That he’d be the perfect challenge for Aizen. Turn the one who wanted you dead into someone so wrapped up in you they couldn’t lift a finger without tearing themselves apart.
If Gin didn’t know better, he’d think that was Aizen’s plan all along.
If only he didn’t know better.
Then maybe his words would’ve actually meant something.
Aizen let him talk. He saw right through the whole act.
Gin wasn’t done yet.
With his back still to Aizen, blood steadily hitting the floor, he kept going.
“You forgot jus’ how close hate is to love.”
He might’ve meant that one.
Aizen approached slowly. Goosebumps rose along Gin’s spine at what followed.
“I’ve loved you, knowing you wanted me dead,” Aizen said quietly. “Hating me doesn’t change that.”
Gin couldn’t take it anymore. He turned around, glaring at Aizen through wet lashes.
“You know my goal,” Aizen’s voice was steady, resolute. His gaze dropped to Gin’s bleeding hand. “That comes before us, Gin.”
Gin smiled. He couldn’t help it.
If he were lucky, maybe it’d distract from the tears.
“I know. Don’t waste yer breath, taichou. ‘Cause truth is… what am I, really, in the grand scheme of things?”
It might’ve sounded like mockery. Self-pity, even. But it wasn’t either.
It was just the truth—the only part he dared to say aloud.
And now it was out there, no longer clawing at his mind. No longer gnawing away at his sanity. Maybe now it’d be easier to accept.
Aizen’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed, cold and sharp. Gin reveled in the sight.
He stepped forward, his smile unwavering, his tone colder. He figured if he had to say it, he might as well sound like he meant it.
“When the time comes… when I make you bleed, when I make ya wish you’d killed me sooner, I’ll be nothin’ to ya.”
Gin raised his uninjured hand and pressed it gently to Aizen’s chest.
“But here… in this castle, in this room…”
He looked up.
“Can you pretend?”
He couldn’t convince himself it was true, but maybe... he could believe it hurt less this way.
“Pretend ?” Aizen scoffed, voice icy, face unreadable. Foreign.
Gin froze.
“Very well,” Aizen said and grabbed Gin’s arm in a punishing grip.
“Let’s both pretend.”
When Gin was roughly undressed and bent over the desk, his hands restrained behind his back, the pretence didn’t begin—it ended.
Aizen was a little rougher than usual. Bruises bloomed across Gin’s skin with every touch, followed by the familiar sting he’d grown too used to craving. Aizen’s thrusts were unforgiving, not particularly painful, but unmistakably a warning. A silent display of dominance. Aizen reminding him that he held complete control, could take him whenever, however he wanted. Could hurt him just enough to make him stay by force.
It would be so easy for Aizen to take him against his will.
Still, Aizen never had. Would never.
Gin knew it. The moment he truly resisted, if he actually fought back, Aizen would stop. Even when Gin pushed the limits, lies slipping from his lips like venom, determined to paint Aizen as the villain... Aizen wouldn’t hurt him like that.
And Gin hated him for it.
Because it’d be so much easier if he did.
He wished he could believe it—that there was nothing intimate about the way Aizen fucked him. Even when he was nearly sobbing, Aizen’s hand over his eyes and his mouth warm over his nape…
He wanted to believe.
Gin bit his lip, forcing the sobs to die in his throat. His nails dug into his forearms, but Gin wished he could sink them into Aizen instead. His body tensed, muscles clenching uselessly under Aizen’s weight in a poor attempt to keep himself from completely giving in. He didn’t want to give Aizen that pleasure today.
Aizen noticed right away. He let go of Gin’s wrists, then pulled out.
Gin turned, catching Aizen’s eyes for a split second before grabbing him by the back of the neck, dragging him down on top of him again. This way, he could feel a bit more in control. Kissing Aizen until his lip was split, his legs around Aizen’s waist like a vice, his nails breaking skin.
“Ya think I won’t do it?” Gin panted, his voice wrecked, fingers twisting tighter in Aizen’s hair.
“You think I ain’t gonna stab ya in the heart just ‘cause—”
His voice cut off in a moan.
Aizen’s thrust was angled just right, hitting that spot that could make Gin scream. That could shut him right up.
“I know you will,” Aizen muttered into his hair, sounding more certain than Gin ever felt about any of this. He even sounded… proud. Like he was praising him.
Tears landed on Aizen’s shoulder, steady and relentless.
I admit I want to kill you—yet you’re unaffected.
You even sound at peace.
Why is it me falling apart… and not you?
“Aizen-taichou… how ‘bout I also tell you a secret?” Gin said in between ragged breaths.
“When you’re dead, bleedin’ out on the ground with my sword buried in your chest…”
His mouth hovered just over Aizen’s ear, his voice low and wicked.
“My body’s gonna be right next to yours,” he whispered.
Then he smiled, tired and vicious. A pity Aizen couldn’t see it.
Once I take revenge, there’ll be nothing left for me.
I won’t keep living. Won’t mourn you, won’t miss you.
I sure as hell won’t regret killing you.
I refuse to give you the satisfaction.
When Aizen’s gaze met his, his dark eyes were bottomless, and those perfect lips were smiling.
“What an unkind fate,” Aizen said softly.
Gin smiled back, arms tightening around Aizen’s neck.
The kiss this time was slow, deliberate.
They entangled until the fire went out entirely and the room was swallowed by darkness.
Fate isn’t just unkind—it’s cruel.
May we meet again in Hell, Sousuke.
Maybe then I won’t be so set on killing you.