Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Minutes to Midnight ❯ The Twilight Hour Part III ( Chapter 15 )

Title: The Twilight Hour (Part Three)

Characters: Gin/Ichigo, Izuru, Byakuya, Renji, Rukia

Rating: M

Warning: Yaoi, Language, Random Explosions

Words: 6,247

Description: Of warnings and destruction. Loose ends are tied and a pre-emptive strike is made. With the destruction of the cannon, their mission is complete.

 

The old fart's house was deserted just as they had expected, most of the rooms darkened and empty. Not even servants stirred. It wasn't yet dawn, so they weren't surprised either. It would be hours before anyone would be up and about. They had plenty of time.

 

Leaving a faintly blushing Kira in the kitchen where he claimed he would amuse himself, Gin and Ichigo completed a brief tour of the old man's expansive quarters. Far more than a geezer like him deserved. They found the office, making a mental note to pilfer his files before discovering the bedroom last; it even had its own door to a private garden.

 

They stepped inside, Gin whistling at the size of the room. “Didn' think it paid tha' well,” he commented, admiring the huge bed with its plush comforter and huge sliding doors that completely lined one wall.

 

Ichigo closed the door behind them, raising his eyebrows. “I'll bet Aizen's room is better.”

 

“Cept for the view,” Gin responded, thinking of the white sand and dead trees that were visible from pretty much anywhere in Las Noches.

 

Ichigo could concede that point. He watched as his lover took a step into the room, seeming so very casual but inwardly seething. Emotions were boiling inside of him, reminding him of all his insecurities. Ichigo had quickly grown to recognize when Gin was faking and when his smiles were real. His amusement right now was forced.

 

Stepping out of his waraji, Ichigo moved forward and wrapped his arms around Gin's waist, an easy feat considering the man's slimness. He pressed his forehead to Gin's shoulder blade, unable to rest his chin comfortably on the man's shoulder due to their difference in height. He felt his lover stiffen momentarily before relaxing into the embrace.

 

“I know it's not true,” Ichigo said without needing to elaborate. “And so do you.”

 

There was a minute before Gin responded, “Yeah, I know.”

 

Ichigo's palm rubbed across Gin's stomach, fingers teasingly plucking at the pale blue obi but not yet untying the knot. “Then, you shouldn't let it bother you.”

 

There was a snort. “And what was that? Defendin' my honor?”

 

Before Ichigo could even respond, they heard the faint sound of a crash and subsequent shatter. However, since it wasn't followed by a cry for help or anything similar, they weren't worried. It was just Izuru doing his best to mess up Yamamoto's kitchen and rifle through his belongings. Ichigo vaguely remembered the vice-captain mumbling something about onigiri with a faint blush staining his cheeks.

 

“Nah, you can do that for yourself,” Ichigo finally finished. “But no one gets to say those kinds of things about you.” His face darkened in a mixture of disgust and regret as he thought about what Hitsugaya had said, hating himself for being unable to kill the bastard. He might as well have given the boy captain the go ahead to insult his lover.

 

Sensing the change in Ichigo's tone, Gin turned around, slitted eyes searching the younger man's face. “It's alright that ya didn' kill 'im,” he murmured, able to guess what was running through the teenager's mind.

 

“I should have,” Ichigo muttered in response, fingers unconsciously tightening their grasp on Gin's waist. “I hated him. I wanted to.” Disgust with himself poured into his expression. “I just couldn't.”

 

“That's cause yer not a murderer. It's diff'rent fer Izuru-chan. Personal. Even more so than fer you,” Gin responded easily, not blaming him in the slightest.

 

He had known from the moment they had decided to pay Hitsugaya a visit that Ichigo wouldn't be able to kill the boy-captain. Ichigo was still very young, despite what he had endured, and there were some lessons he'd yet to learn. He was far off from being able to kill someone in cold blood. If it weren't for Shirosaki's influence, Gin wasn't even certain the boy would have been able to pull off some of the torture.

 

Ichigo was still new to everything. To Soul Society and their methods. To what a Shinigami would do as their duty. To the types of things one would do to survive through Rukongai. And some of it, Gin was glad that his Ichigo had never experienced and never would.

 

It was something he cherished in Ichigo, that tiny spot of innocence. Something he had all to his own that no one else could ever touch. It wasn't an innocence of naiveté either, rather of inexperience. As if he were Gin's for the teaching.

 

Ichigo sighed, finally dragging his eyes from their staring contest with the floor. “Yeah, you're right. As always.” The last was added with some disgruntlement, the teenager only grudgingly admitting it.

 

“Cause I'm smart like that,” Gin chirped victoriously.

 

Brown eyes rolled as Ichigo rose up and kissed him, effectively ending the uncomfortable discussion. Gin was more than willing to drop it, not wanting to remember the past and driving Hitsugaya to the back of his mind. He wasn't worth another moment of thought.

 

The kiss was brief as Ichigo pulled back, gaze darkening and familiar smirk dancing on his lips. “Ready to defile the old man's bed?” he asked, reaching with one hand to remove Zangetsu and lay his zanpakutou against the wall.

 

“O'course. S'was my idea, wasn't it?” Gin snickered, briefly entertaining thoughts of the old bastard's horrified face when he came home to discover his office and kitchen trashed with his bedroom mussed.

 

“Mmm.” Ichigo grabbed his robes and dragged him closer for another kiss, hands busily working at Gin's clothes. He cursed under his breath as he fumbled, mouth moving to plant soft kisses on the pale throat in front of him. “You wear so many damn layers,” he complained good-naturedly.

 

Thin hands lifted to help him, pulling off the first few layers and carefully setting Shinsou to the side, right next to Zangetsu. “Cause it amuses me ta watch ya struggle,” Gin informed him, dipping his head to capture his lover's lips again.

 

Clothes slithered to the floor, dropping in graceless piles. Gin's hand paused in dip into the pocket of his hakama before it, too, dropped to the floor, leaving him entirely nude. He slipped his tongue against Ichigo's lips, nibbling gently and pressed the small glass vial into his lover's hand.

 

“Later,” Ichigo informed him, trailing his lips to the pale skin in front of him as he blindly tossed the bottle onto the bed behind him. “Taste first.” To prove his point, his teeth grazed across Gin's collarbone.

 

The former captain chuckled, one hand busily untying Ichigo's hakama so that it joined the rest of their clothing on the floor. Deft fingers located his lover's arousal, tracing the rising length with a teasing touch. When Ichigo shivered, mouth engaged in tasting skin, Gin cupped the stiffening organ and stroked deftly. His other hand settled on Ichigo's hip, drawing him closer.

 

Ichigo groaned, pressing against him, hands on Gin's side. They slid around the thinner man, palming his back. Questing lips planted a kiss in the direct center of Gin's chest as calloused fingers traced down his spine, the man's skin cool but warming quickly under his touch. It had surprised Ichigo at first, how his lover was always cold. But Ichigo also learned just how quickly he could warm him and took full advantage of that fact.

 

Thin fingers stroked at his arousal, causing Ichigo's skin to prickle with rising desire. He dragged his mouth back upwards, sucking at the hollow of Gin's throat where he had come to learn the man was particularly sensitive. His own hands were no less busy, wrapped around Gin and pulling their bodies together.

 

A distraction in the form of a very familiar sound had them breaking apart, the sound of alerting clanks ringing through Seireitei. These were much louder and insistent than the small ones raised after the buildings had been set ablaze. It was pretty easy to deduce why.

 

Ichigo tipped his head to the side. “They found the little taichou,” he murmured, one hand cupping Gin's ass. “Means we have plenty of time.” He pressed a kiss to the bony shoulder in front of him.

 

His lover laughed, placing his hands on Ichigo's hips and slowing grinding them together in a move that made the teenager's breathing quicken. “How true, Ichigo.”

 

They lazily kissed again, tongues briefly tangling before Ichigo drew away.

 

“On the bed,” he ordered in a faintly bossy tone, eyes admiring the plush look to the furniture.

 

Gin's lips split into a wide grin. “Should I call ya taichou?” he teased, finding that hint of command in his lover's tone to be both cute and arousing.

 

Ichigo flushed, a part of him hating that Gin could still make him do it. “I didn't mean it like that,” he countered, watching as Gin did as he was told, pushing the oil aside and sitting on the bed. “Pervert.”

 

The older man merely chuckled again and laid back against the sheets, lifting his brows in surprise at the pure comfort; it was so unfair. Then, he felt the eyes on him, Ichigo looking him over appreciatively.

 

“You barely make a dent,” the teenager commented with some amusement, kneeling on the mattress. He bent over, pressing a kiss to Gin's belly and right over a scar of some kind that Ichigo wasn't learned enough to identify.

 

Gin sighed, able to feel the warm breath against his skin. “Don' I?” he questioned in a murmur.

 

Lips moved over Gin's belly, tongue tracing over scars, new and old. There were a few Ichigo could recognize. The claw marks of a Hollow, which curved around his ribs on the right. The light and thin slices of zanpakutou. Burn marks over his left hipbone that weren't from kidoh but something else. Kidoh burned too cleanly to leave that type of raised and puckered scar; Ichigo had learned that lesson the hard way.

 

Ichigo kissed them anyway, knowing how self-conscious Gin was about them. He never asked, however, about any of the man's scars. Gin wasn't ready to tell him, and Ichigo wasn't really ready to hear. His lover always squirmed when he mouthed them, never understanding why Ichigo did.

 

“Mmm.” Ichigo made a noncommittal sound in his throat, hand stroking the outside of Gin's legs where there were no scars. “Rich old bastard doesn't need a good bed like this. Wasted on him.”

 

His fingers shifted, trailing over pale skin and sneaking to the inside of Gin's thigh, legs parting to grant him room. He nibbled on the man's ribs, deftly avoiding the faint swat that Gin threw at him. It was a ticklish spot that he felt he always had to attack, payback for the teasing that made him blush.

 

“You look good on it,” he added, moving his mouth to a location more suited to arousal than tickling, tongue flicking over a nipple.

 

Fingers tangled in orange hair. “You'd look better,” Gin countered, a purring hum to his voice that didn't hide his desire.

 

Ichigo lifted his head, crawling the rest of the way onto the bed and hovering over Gin, hands on either side of his head. “Are you fishing for compliments?” he inquired with a smile. “Cause you know you don't have to ask.”

 

Before Gin could respond, he captured the older man's lips. His lover's tongue slithered into his mouth, prompting a tangling of tongues that was more wet and sloppy than anything else. Those deftly skilled hands roamed onto Ichigo's body, flicking and fluttering touches that grazed over his skin. Gin brushed over his nipples, his palms smoothing over Ichigo's much broader hips. The teenager's skin heated, an aroused flush painting his chest and neck. One hand curved around him, cupping his ass. The tip of one long finger teased between his cheeks. For a moment, Ichigo envied Gin. Everything about his lover was long and slender, always seeming so frail were it not for the strength Ichigo knew he held.

 

Blindly groping, Ichigo searched for the oil he had tossed onto the bed, which Gin had moved somewhere in the vicinity of his head. His grasping fingers couldn't seem to find it, however, and a growl of frustration gurgled in his throat.

 

“Anxious are we?” Gin teased.

 

Ichigo crooked a grin. “And you're not?” he posed, pulling back until he was straddling Gin, knees pressing against the mattress.

 

His eyes flickered over the bed, finally catching sight of the small vial, which had just been out of his reach. It figured. He stretched out an arm, grabbing the bottle and scooting back down until he was perched over Gin's thighs.

 

“I'd be lyin',” the man responded, reaching for Ichigo, who was busily uncorking the bottle.

 

Ichigo pushed his hand away. “My turn,” he said, drizzling some of the clear and odorless liquid onto his fingers.

 

He had scowled for days the first time Gin had brought him strawberry-scented oil, not even wanting to know how the man had gotten it. Though he strongly suspected the geta-boushi. That damn pervert.

 

Conceding, Gin merely smiled and watched him with slitted eyes, a glint of red visible beneath a fall of silver hair. Ichigo's hand moved to Gin's arousal, efficiently slicking it in the oil. The man groaned, his hips unconsciously jerking upwards but having nowhere to go with Ichigo's weight on his thighs.

 

He watched in appreciation as Ichigo then rose to his knees, drizzling more of the oil onto his hands. He capped the bottle one-handed and tossed it to the floor near their pile of clothes. He reached back, displaying amazing flexibility, which Gin had taken advantage of on more than one occasion, smearing some inside himself.

 

It was a display that never failed to arouse Gin. “I love it when ya do tha',” he whispered, sneakily sliding his hands to Ichigo's waist, half-waiting to see if there would be a protest.

But there wasn't, Ichigo too busy dealing with the blush that threatened to burn his face. Gin's thumbs stroked over his hipbones as the teenager prepared himself quickly and then shifted forward. He poised himself over Gin, reaching between them and positioning his lover. The hands on his hips were a welcome and steadying presence as Ichigo sank down, feeling only the faintest burn and stretch.

 

Ichigo gasped, sucking in a breath as he lowered. He could feel his skin flush with heat, stopping only when Gin was completely seated within him. His hands found Gin's waist for balance as he paused, letting his body adjust in its mad clenching around what it considered an intrusion.

 

His hands slid down Gin's side, mentally measuring the man's waist and reminding himself how easily it was to hold him with his fingers. The former captain was so thin that Ichigo had once been afraid of breaking him; he outweighed Gin by a good twenty pounds, if not more. Then, he had realized that Gin was stronger than him and probably always would be. It was more likely that the man would break him and not the other way around. Besides, it wasn't Gin's physical strength he had to concern himself with. It was the vulnerability that didn't show on the outside, a fragility of his trust. Despite the smiles and his supposed propensity for blood and violence, Gin was very insecure, and Ichigo had learned to recognize that.

 

Thin fingers pressed into the skin of his hips, and Ichigo began to move, rocking his hips slowly. He could feel Gin moving inside of him, and a warmth pooled in his belly. He watched as an attractive flush spread across his lover's chest, like a full body blush that couldn't be avoided, given his skin tone.

 

Gin responded to his pace, hips jerking upwards to meet each downwards push until they were working together in an arousing rhythm. It felt so good, the pressure inside of him that sent goosebumps all over his body, both cold and hot. Ichigo shivered, heart rate picking up. He idly chewed on his bottom lip as he sucked in a ragged breath, grinding down. Gin's hands were strong on his hips, helping him to rise and fall.

 

The former captain drew up his knees for leverage, tipping Ichigo forward. “Kiss me,” he requested, voice hitching on the end of an aroused moan as Ichigo clenched around him.

 

Ichigo couldn't exactly deny him, not as the change in position ratcheted up the pleasure. He licked his lip and leaned down, Gin tilting his head to meet him. The soft kiss quickly turned wet and hungry, Ichigo's palms slapping to the sheets for balance. He felt Gin's fingers wrap around his seeping organ, beginning to stroke him. Ichigo moaned into the kiss, taking on a faster rhythm.

 

His knees dug into the bed, which didn't make a sound beneath their activities. Che, the old bastard really didn't need something this good. But Ichigo pushed all thoughts of the captain-commander far from his mind, instead concentrating on the here and now.

 

His hands curled into the covering, the low burning in his belly an increasing presence. Ichigo didn't even try to hold back, just allowed the sensations to wash over him. The touch of those fingers, surprisingly callous free, on his hip. The feel of Gin inside of him, each rolling thrust designed to make him moan. The taste of Gin on his lips, a mix of strawberry and something else, making him realize that his lover had been eating those damned candies again. He knew that Gin did it just to tease him.

 

Rather than prolong everything, despite how much he wanted to, Ichigo knew they were under a time limit. He let his orgasm wash over him as it crested inside and splattered on Gin's belly and hand. He clenched around Gin's arousal, dropping his lips from the man's mouth and seeking out the sensitive spot beneath his ear. He tongued it ruthlessly, Gin moaning a slithered collection of syllables that was probably his name.

 

Gin's hand tightened on his hip, joined by the other sticky one, pulling Ichigo down to meet his thrusts. He jerked, managing a few more before climaxing messily inside his lover. His hand abandoned Ichigo's hip, fingers cupping Ichigo's face and directing it back towards his lips.

 

They kissed lazily and sloppily, Ichigo dropping down on top of Gin. The older man's hand, still somewhat sticky, settled on Ichigo's back, fingers tracing up and down his spine. It was warm and cozy, their heightened breathing the only sound in the room.

 

Ichigo nosed under Gin's chin, gently extracting himself until they were laying side by side. His tongue flicked across the throat in front of him as he tugged his lover into his arms, knowing that Gin was a secret cuddler. It was part of the whole vulnerability bit.

 

Not that Ichigo really minded this part of it. Gin's arms were warm and soft around him, despite all the sharp angles. And the man's breath ruffled his hair as he breathed deeply and then exhaled with a whisper, a murmur so faint Ichigo couldn't quite make out the words.

 

The sound of the alarm clanks in the distance barely pierced the post-sex haze as Ichigo waited for his heart to return to a normal pace. He forced his body to realize that there really wasn't time for a second round, despite the interest the rest of him seemed to be showing.

 

There was a knock on the door. “Taichou?” Izuru's voice pierced the wood, obviously hesitant.

 

“I think it's for you,” Ichigo murmured with a chuckle, breath puffing against Gin's throat.

 

Gin squeezed his ass. “I thought ya were the taichou?”

 

Huffing, Ichigo gently bit down on the neck in front of him, causing Gin to merely laugh. “Be right out, Izuru-chan.”

 

There was a pause. Ichigo could practically see the blond's flush through the door.

 

“I didn't interrupt, did I?”

 

Ichigo snorted and buried his face in Gin's shoulder. “A little late for that.”

 

Grinning, Gin lazily traced a finger down Ichigo's back. “Yer fine,” he answered.

 

“Alright.” Izuru sounded relieved. “I'll be waiting in the main room.” They heard the sounds of his feet padding down the hall.

 

Ichigo sighed. “Guess that's our cue.”

 

“We still hafta destroy the cannon,” Gin reminded him, though he felt much the same. The old geezer's bed was way too comfortable.

 

Shifting, Ichigo pulled away, wrinkling his nose briefly at the sticky mess that would have to be cleaned first. “But a certain Kuchiki is next,” he added.

 

“O'course.”

 

They lazily shared another kiss before forcing themselves out of the bed. There was still a lot to do. Daybreak would be coming soon, cutting down on how much time they had for concealment. There would be time for a second round later, and Ichigo fully intended to take it.

 

- -

 

It wasn't even dawn, and Byakuya already felt as if he were ready for the day to be over. Having been roused from his bed a few hours earlier because of the strange and random explosions in Seireitei, he was not in a good mood. Worst of all, he wasn't returning to his house to find sleep again but because he had forgotten his gloves in his rush to leave earlier. His day had started at five this morning, and it probably wasn't going to end until long after the sun set. He was not looking forward to it.

 

Stepping quickly through his silent house, Byakuya mused on the current events. After the third explosion, they had ceased believing it was purely coincidence. All of Seireitei was beginning to rouse now, Yamamoto-soutaichou commanding that every division go on alert and search for the perpetrators. Initial beliefs were that the traitor Aizen was behind the attack, but since no sightings had been made, there was no confirmation.

 

It was the low murmur of conversation that roused Byakuya from his thoughts, causing his eyes to narrow in suspicion. It was too early for the servants to have arrived, and one of the voices sounded familiar. Ahead of him, the light from the dining room was casting an orange rectangle into the hall. When he had left earlier, all of the lights had been off.

 

On alert now, Byakuya placed one hand on Senbonzakura and approached the dining room. He heard laughter and male voices, possibly two separate ones. Then, he was standing in the doorway. His eyes widened in surprise as he gaped inwardly at the sight.

 

“Kurosaki Ichigo?” he stated, voice a mixture of confusion and surprise. He was too shocked to even be indignant at the invasion to his home.

 

Ichigo took a bite of what appeared to be onigiri and then stood, swallowing. “Yo, Byakuya,” he responded with a salute. “Nice to see you again.”

 

Blinking, Byakuya flicked his gaze around, catching sight of Kira-fukutaichou also present for some reason. Logic escaped him.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

He never received an answer. In that moment, something struck him across the back of the head. It was a blunt, sharp pain. Byakuya grunted as darkness swallowed him whole. And then, he knew nothing.

 

- -

 

“I think you hit him too hard,” was the first thing that pierced through Byakuya's bleary conscious.

 

He stirred sluggishly, peeling his eyes open and shifting where he lay. He belatedly realized that he was in a bed of some kind, and on further inspection, it was his own. His head ached, a dull throb in the back of his skull. He was alive, but something... something was missing. There was an emptiness inside of him.

 

It took him several seconds to register that he could no longer feel his reiatsu. Or any others. His eyes widened, and he bolted upright, gaze falling to the foot of this bed. He was being watched by three pairs of eyes, recognition dawning on the last.

 

Ichimaru Gin. He should have known.

 

Grey eyes narrowed. “You sealed my reiatsu?” he demanded coldly, forcing himself to regain his Kuchiki pride and clam.

 

Ichigo smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nope,” he replied in a voice that was far too smug for his age. “We severed it.”

 

Byakuya felt something inside of him go cold, and his thoughts turned inwards. He searched himself for Senbonzakura's calming presence, her lilting voice. But he heard nothing. Felt nothing. Where there was once a warm thrum of his reiatsu and power, there was nothing but emptiness.

 

He must have paled, judging by the expressions on their faces. A disconcerted emotion swept through him, warring with nausea and anger. He angrily flicked his eyes to the three people at the base of his bed.

 

“Kisama,” he hissed in Ichimaru's direction before turning the full potent of his glare on Ichigo. “Joined Aizen, have you, Kurosaki?” he demanded viciously, fingers curling.

 

Here, he was, entirely helpless in front of his enemies. They must have been mocking him for his lack of power. Certainly, Gin's smirk seemed like it. It filled him with a cold anger, which warred loudly with the overwhelming and clenching sorrow of emptiness.

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “I think that's fairly obvious.”

 

“Why?” Byakuya bit out. “Do the lives of my sister and my lieutenant mean that little to you? Obviously, Hitsugaya's did.”

 

The teenager drew up straight. “The little bastard brought it upon himself.” Ichigo sneered, face tightening with anger. “If you really want to know, I'd suggest asking your boss. See if he'll tell you the truth.” He paused, lips curling into a smirk. “Not that he's really your boss anymore.”

 

“Yeah,” Gin chimed in, grin widening. “Hard to be taichou when you ain't got no powers. But don worry, Kuchiki-hime. At least, ya got yer family to fall back on. Not all of us're so fortunate.”

 

Byakuya felt himself deflate bit by bit and struggled to maintain some semblance of dignity. “Why did you not just kill me?”

 

“Because I honestly don't want you dead,” Ichigo responded, much to the Kuchiki heir's surprise. “You're not my enemy. I have no quarrel with you. Just the organization you work for.”

 

Falling silent, Byakuya found the sense of emptiness nearly overwhelming. Like he had lost something important that he could never regain, a part of himself having been torn away. He kept asking himself if there was something he should remember, only realized it was just the gaping chasm inside of him. Senbonzakura was gone from him forever. He had never felt so abandoned in his entire life. Not even when Hisana had died had it hurt this much.

 

He barely noticed when Ichigo nodded towards Ichimaru and Kira or when the two left the room. Ichigo, however, remained behind.

 

Byakuya looked at the boy he had fought on more than occasion, those brown eyes meeting with his.

 

“For what it's worth,” Ichigo said quietly. “I'm sorry.” He raised his hand.

 

Byakuya had only a second before the sleeping kidoh hit him. And then, he knew nothing.

 

Ichigo watched the Kuchiki heir slump to the bed with an expressionless face. He sighed under his breath, stepping around and adjusting Byakuya's position. Otherwise the man would wake with a terrible crick in his neck, and well, Ichigo didn't really hate Byakuya. But he also didn't want to have to fight him again. What better way to get his point across than to steal his powers?

 

Turning away from the bed, Ichigo didn't look back as he left Byakuya's home. Gin and Izuru were waiting for him on the roof. His lover idly watched one of the buildings burn in the distance, while Kira fidgeted with the bag he had brought. Within was more of the onigiri he had made at the old fart's house.

 

“What's next?” The vice-captain asked as Ichigo stepped lightly onto the tiled rooftop.

 

Gin smiled as he turned around, ignoring the wind that was beginning to stir, whipping at their clothing. It would make putting out the fires quite difficult for the Shinigami.

 

“Now we create a lil mayhem.”

 

“And we start by destroying the cannon,” Ichigo added.

 

Izuru frowned in thought. “The one they were creating to fire on Hueco Mundo?”

 

Shifting his foot against the tiles, Ichigo nodded. “That's the one. Do you know where it's at?”

 

“No.” The blond shook his head. “They've been very quiet about it. How did you even know?”

 

Gin grinned, sharing a look with his lover. “Oh, we've our ways.”

 

The teenager snorted, raking a hand over his hair. “More like the geta-boushi does.”

 

Izuru blinked. “Geta-boushi?”

 

“Urahara Kisuke,” Gin explained. “He invaded Hueco Mundo a coupla months ago.”

 

“Does this happen often?” Kira couldn't help but ask, especially considering the blasé tone his captain had just used.

 

Gin just smiled, prompting Ichigo to intervene.

 

“Enough talk. There's a cannon that needs exploding.”

 

- -

Ichigo felt a migraine threatening to throb at his temples with just one glance at the twelfth division. There were warehouses everywhere, lined up in neat little rows and looking exactly the same. The same size, the same markings. He didn't even know how they told them apart when they weren't even numbered.

 

He paused on top of the division headquarters and glared at the collection of warehouses, even the destruction they'd left in their wake not enough to chase away the annoyance. It figured that Urahara's former division would make things difficult.

 

They had yet to be caught, which probably had to do with the random structures in burning ruins behind them. Ichigo had allowed his reiatsu leak in random locations, just to confuse people. He idly wondered if Rukia and Renji were somewhere in the madness they had left behind. Then, he promptly pondered why he cared and pushed their existence to the back of his mind.

 

In front of them, they could see a lightening of the horizon. The sun was slowly beginning to rise, and soon, they would lose the cover of darkness. Not that it mattered. They were nearly finished.

 

There was a small clatter as Gin and Izuru landed beside him. Ichigo paused in his glaring to glance behind him, able to see three or four places where fires were still burning strongly. The faint sound of shouts could be heard, and he knew that the alarms were increasing in number. Very soon, the whole of Seireitei would be awake, probably wondering what manner of army had decided to attack.

 

Ichigo smirked at that.

 

An army of two. Three if he counted Izuru. That was really all Aizen needed to send Seireitei into a panic.

 

He flickered his attention to Gin, his lover smiling broadly. “Which building is it?”

 

Thin hands dove into his robes, and Gin pulled out a paper, handing it over, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Somewhat wary, Ichigo took the sheet and unfolded it. He glanced at the crude drawing of scribbled boxes, one of which had a huge “X” over it. There were words scrawled off to the side, and he peered closer. “It's this one!” was printed there in English, along with a self-portrait of a grinning Urahara.

 

Ichigo scowled, turning the sheet this way and that. “I can't read this damn map,” he said with frustration.

 

Chuckling, Gin plucked it from his hand and turned it right side up. Or at least, what Ichigo assumed was supposed to be right side up. His brow furrowed. Kira leaned closer, also peering at the sheet of paper. Blue eyes glanced from the “map” to the compound and back again.

 

“I think it's that one,” Izuru finally hazarded a guess, gesturing vaguely to the cluster of buildings to their right.

 

“How can you tell?” Ichigo demanded, cursing under his breath. “Stupid geta-boushi. I'm gonna hit him with that fan, Aizen's special friend or not.”

 

Gin's grin widened as he shook his head. “If I could take a guess?”

 

Sighing, Ichigo crumpled the paper and threw it over his shoulder. “Be my guest, but just in case, we'll take out a few more. Like half.” He paused, the irritated look melting into an amused smirk. “It's just the twelfth, not like anyone will care. Serves Urahara right, giving me a crappy map.”

 

Amusement flickered onto Gin's face before he leapt into the air, hovering over the warehouses. A quick shunpo took him to the left cluster. He paused, sweeping his gaze over the clump of buildings beneath him before selecting one. Ichigo felt a brief swell of reiatsu before his lover's voice wafted to him.

 

“Kitsune-bi.”

 

Ichigo should have known.

 

He watched as Gin's favorite kidoh curled from his fingers, a huge and cresting fire that gradually morphed itself into the form of a fox. The flaming mouth stretched open as it crashed against the side of the building as if planning on devouring it whole. There was an echoing smash and creak before the warehouse suddenly exploded with a spurt of blue-white fire. Ichigo caught sight of a flicker of tail before the spell vanished.

 

“Nice,” the teenager remarked, even as Izuru gave a nod of appreciation.

 

He flitted up to join his lover in the air, picking a suitable target. Shirosaki surged inside of him as he fired three spells in succession, slamming into a trio of buildings nearby. They exploded on impact, and from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Izuru already selecting his own victim.

 

Within minutes, half of the twelfth's warehouses were burning, internal explosions making the blaze rise higher and higher into the sky. Volatile chemicals were only adding to the kidoh-induced destruction.

 

“Kurosaki-san.”

 

At the sound of the vice-captain's voice, Ichigo turned. Izuru pointed to one of the structures Ichigo had struck and what appeared to be a large cannon visible beneath the collapsing roof. They had found it.

 

Just to be certain, Ichigo drew Zangetsu. Gin moved a pace behind him and Kira out of his line of fire as he allowed his reiatsu to flow a bit more freely than before.

 

Tightening his grip around the hilt of his sword, Ichigo allowed Shirosaki to take part in the destruction. “Getsuga tenshou!”

 

He swung his zanpakutou, the burst of concentrated reiatsu sliced through the air and slammed into the warehouse. It promptly exploded in a startling display of energy and dust, leaving only a small crater behind.

 

“Oops,” Gin chirped, gathering Ichigo's attention as he returned Zangetsu to his back. He was waving down at some Shinigami who were pointing up at the three of them. “Time ta get goin'.”

 

They had gathered a sizable crowd it seemed.

 

“Che. We're done anyway,” Ichigo responded, uninterested in engaging the lower Shinigami; they wouldn't have been any challenge at all.

 

At the edge of his senses, however, he suddenly felt two rather familiar people flitting their way. He had half a mind to ignore their presence until Urahara's words filtered to the back of his brain. As much as the geta-boushi irritated him, Ichigo grudgingly admitted that the pervert was usually right about these sorts of things.

 

He gestured to Gin and Izuru, gathering their attention. “We can't leave just yet. We've got visitors.”

 

Izuru furrowed his brow and concentrated. His eyes widened when he recognized the reiatsu.

 

Gin merely grinned. “Let's surprise 'em.”

 

Seconds later, they appeared directly in front of Renji and Rukia, causing both to grind to a halt lest they slam right into the three traitors. Ichigo stood at the front, Gin and Izuru at his back. He waited for their reactions before he spoke, part of him taking some amusement out of their shock.

 

Behind him, Gin was already opening the Garganta, fingers dancing in the air before the sky ripped open. The darkness of Hueco Mundo could be seen just beyond as Gin stood before it, simply waiting for his companions to leave with him.

 

Renji blinked in astonishment. “Izuru?” he spluttered. “What are you--”

 

“Idiot, what are you doing!” Rukia demanded, confusion and outrage written onto her delicate features. Her hand rested on Sode no Shirayuki, as if she couldn't decide whether to draw or not. “We've been worried sick about you!”

 

Izuru shook his head. “You wouldn't understand, Abarai-kun.”

 

“Ya aren't a traitor,” Renji argued, his eyes flickering between the three of them. “I know ya. And… you're not a traitor.”

 

“No, I'm not,” Izuru agreed, his expression a mixture of sadness and anger. “But they betrayed me first. Goodbye, Abarai-kun.” He disappeared into the Garganta without a backwards look.

 

Clearly at a loss, Renji turned towards Ichigo, the teenager he had thought he was friends with. “Ichigo?”

 

But Ichigo's eyes were on Rukia. “I'm not stupid, bitch,” he growled under his breath, watching as she blinked and took a step back. He turned away from them and stepped towards the Garganta. “And if you want to know why, ask the fuckin' old man. My purpose here is over.”

 

“But--”

 

Their words fell on ears that were no longer listening. Ichigo was already stepping into the Garganta after Izuru.

 

Gin beamed brightly at the two, waving cheerily. “Bye-bye!” he chirped, disappearing within as well.

 

Rukia and Renji were left gaping as Gin closed the Garganta behind him with a flick of his wrist.

 

 

 

A/N: One more part to go!