#THE MOMENT THAT MAKES GIN ASK ABT KYOKA SUIGETSU AND GETS THAT ANSWER I'M SURE --

[godkilller]

🔪 I HATE YOU CAS

send me 🔪 to stab my muse. (not accepting!)

          GIN KNEW ONLY SO MUCH ABOUT HIS SUPERIOR, THE MAN HE HAD SLAIN OPENLY FOR, AS THOUGH PERFORMATIVE, WHILST THE LIEUTENANT OF THE FIFTH LOOKED ON IN SUBTLE PLEASURE. Even years after that, and years following the swift and brutal disposal of Hirako Shinji, Gin still felt as though he was grasping for straws here. True, he had gained Aizen’s favor, no small feat considering the people within Aizen’s circle were a meager two these days. Himself, and Tousen. And he was perhaps one of the youngest lieutenants these days, still not quite an adult -- not a boy, despite his demeanor.

          Gin knew Aizen preferred striking someone head on, even if he kept himself and his strike shrouded behind the veil of Kyoka Suigetsu. Gin knew he liked his tea especially scalding when it was pouring outside. How he’d sometimes glare at his haori before having it adorn his broad shoulders as though in disdain, remorse. Still a fresh wound, then, Gin reckoned -- and the boy picked at his scabs, one at his ankle, idly whilst Gin fastened his shoes... as though prying open the dried blood of Aizen and his previous captain’s wounded relationship. An opening without sufficient details, without a proper angle or actual opportunity to make one... no, Gin knew very little of weakness that could be acted upon. He licked his thumb then, absently, and pressed the warmed pad of it to the now-weeping scuff above his foot. Gathered when sparring against his superior, oh, yes, Gin could only continue challenging Aizen for further assessments. Dancing around, an open dialogue in the form of naked blades and intent. They were sparring again, today, for another lesson of learning one another.

          That’s how Gin knew one thing for certain, if anything; AIZEN’S SHIKAI WAS TERRIFYING.

          So that was why Gin hadn’t expected, for one, the abrupt plunging of a blade, askew, into his stomach, off to a side, and downward -- not quite meant to actually strike him, no doubt, as their spars hadn’t ever become so deadly... and yet, still, Gin could feel a curiosity mixed with Aizen’s initial shock. Gin had let him? No, not quite -- but maybe, yes, maybe a little. He hadn’t seen the approaching strike, of course, with the other’s Shikai designed to make such stealthy strikes... so yes, perhaps, a bit of both. Gin had let it hit him, and skid back as Shinso scraped against the undeterred blade. Gin hadn’t really wanted to get stabbed, no, but this was intriguing to him...

          It hurt, but it was well worth the look of surprise he could only imagine, without looking up to confirm, currently on Aizen’s face.

          Gin shakily pointed his Zanpakuto towards the ending of Kyoka Suigetsu’s hilt, handle, where no doubt the wielder had to be bearing it, illusion or not. And then Gin did something perhaps a little silly. Careless. Rangiku would yell at him later, surely, if she saw his cut up hand later  ( the stab wound would be easier to hide from her... )  He grabbed at the blade in his gut.

          And something peculiar happened, akin to the way a dream state began to melt and warp, then shatter, pieces of reflective glass and mirror-esque shards alike with melted watery waves revealed unto the young lieutenant his foe not where Gin had initially perceived him. But no, that was Aizen, not off to the left as he had been a moment prior. Kyoka still wedged in Gin’s stomach, his ribs aching, and a bloodied hand wrapped around that Zanpakuto... oh, that was it. Probably a fluke, probably Aizen lifting his illusion... though in the years at the other’s side he hadn’t ever seen an illusion break like so. Abruptly, messily, as though forced. But maybe that was because he had dropped it out of concern for his subordinate -- well, in that case, this would be awkward... because Gin played dirty. Had to. This was his competition, after all. And Aizen hadn’t called for a cease-fire yet. Neither had Gin, despite being struck.

          He wanted to strike back, first.

          ❝ Gotcha. ❞

          Shinso adjusted its aim and lunged forward, flashing, straight for the other’s chest -- heart. Gin played with fire, he knew his captain would most certainly manage to dodge. And if not...? Ah, well, oops!