#'s lil au of urahara taking in gin when he's still a kiddo because aizen's lost custody of the child(tm)

[godkilller]

❝ gin--! ❞

he had called his name that night - screamed it, really -- when he had seen the small body being swept under kisuke's arm. he had screamed after them, those two -- only the howling from his captain had diverted kisuke urahara from what he had been about to do. for all of aizen's abilities -- he could not yet face down a bankai.

he had tried, though -- had tried. the captain had been skilled, however. cunning. even with the kanzen saimin in place, he had still landed a hit and kaname-- kaneme! he'd been breathing at least, and it'd been enough for aizen to pull him up and get them both to the fourth that night, collapsing from pain and bloodloss, deliriously mumbling of having been attacked by interrupting the captain in what he'd been doing --

collaborators.

he had made urahara into a proper patsy, had cared only about that -- until he'd woken up and found everything out. a month and more -- more -- since kisuke had taken him. and more than him -- more than that, more than --

a hilt wrapped in a shade that was not teal was grasped between his fingers as he stared at the place to which he'd been guided, coaxed, kyoka's awareness linked to another, one not his own. weeks it has been and he is here now, the shop standing no chance against the wrath of the one who now wears the haori lined with turquoise. a shade so near gin's eyes -- he is here, now, the smoldering wreckage proving his fury as he sweeps to --

there.

the entrance is easy to discover, a flaring of power and it splinters under the weight of his wrath. he is quick to launch himself down there, quick to call out again.

❝ GIN--! ❞

he can sense him down here.

❝ GIN--! WHERE ARE YOU?! ❞

his is the seat of captain now and he is willing to admit he's being reckless by doing this -- but oh, the cracks in the blade that is cradled between finger and palm, the loss of not just him but the youth that had become his shadow too in one night? no. no, aizen is calling, power seething around him, seeking for him. he knows he's here. he can sense it.

he had made a promise to shinso, hadn't he--?

and to himself.

he's going to murder the former captain when he gets his hands on him but better, now, to find gin and get him out of here, isn't it--? best to sweep in and out. before the humans can investigate but oh, he's seething.

          THAT NIGHT WAS A BLUR, ROARING ECHOES AND A BLASTING FORCE.  Tsukabishi Tessai, alongside Urahara Kisuke, had been formidable indeed. Yet their appearance in the midst of Aizen’s experimentations upon Gin’s captain was a necessary interruption indeed. Not even that, an interruption, no, planned. They were to be framed, after all. Their attendance was expected and one could have even ventured to say ‘perfect’ ... that is, prior to Tessai’s casting of Hado number eighty-eight, Hiryu Gekizoku Shinten Raiho. Something Aizen had believed a subsequent casting of Danku, a Bakudo level eighty-one, to be sufficient in blocking. AND IT DID.... somewhat. Perhaps he hadn’t accounted for how serious Urahara and his allies would be in stopping them from walking away, because the Kido Master shattered through that protective wall within a flashing spark and blaze.

          It was the first time Gin had ever seen a split-second show of shock grace the Lieutenant at his side’s features. Maybe that was why he acted fast, faster than Aizen and Tousen, he had always been focused on training himself to strike wickedly swift, and he did not disappoint them then. Gin had drawn Shinso and cut lightning. But he was still, no matter his speed or darting blade, a mere boy, a Third Seat standing against the snarling storm of a Kido Master’s design, and for the split second of deflecting there came many more agonizing seconds thereafter of rippling defeat as the high level Kido won over. Shocks shot through his body, cracked across Shinso’s blade till it flew from his grasp and embedded itself into the ground, a mirroring effect onto its wielder as Gin was blasted by that same force which proceeded to send him backward, flying, tumbling, tumbling, and black.

          Perhaps they had felt guilty, striking down some young and promising kid when they truly had wanted Aizen to be hit, and that was why Gin awoke within an unfamiliar abode. Or maybe Urahara Kisuke wanted information, and Gin was to be hostage, informant, kept holed up -- because when Gin gathered his surroundings, his state  ( sore, scuffed up, and the worst headache -- the rest he couldn’t tell, bandaged up -- where was Shinso? A hand flying out, reaching, searching blind before he even turned his head to look. Ah, fuck, he must’ve dropped it, yeah... he dropped it, and they hadn’t taken it with him, damn it )  ... it was his immediate reaction to seek an escape.

          That hadn’t gone too well. Guarding the exit, despite Gin’s careful and silent steps, was Yoruichi. He knew he couldn’t outrun her. Flash Goddess, wasn’t she? Best to not even bother making a fool of himself. Especially whilst still aching from the blast he took.

          He was implored to rest, to stay put, to recover and that he couldn’t go back.

          Gin couldn’t open a Senkaimon without Shinso, and thus that held true; he couldn’t go back even if he managed to run past the shopkeeper and bolt.

          Urahara Kisuke was not a cruel man, Gin found, but he was also the secretive type, and the kind of man that seemed to believe that he knew what was best. That sort of cruel. He believed and enacted his beliefs regardless of protest. Like so, in that keeping Gin here was best. Part of Gin wanted to agree, to stay, be plucked from Aizen’s clutches and be free of those howling nights... yet the other yearned to return, ached even. He felt he didn’t belong, this was wrong. Particularly a potent realization that he was no longer within the Seireitei, he wanted to return to Rangiku. Oh, she was going to be so worried. No doubt Aizen still spun the story of the villainous Urahara Kisuke, no doubt Gin’s own name had been listed as one of his victims. But Aizen would know better than to write him off as dead, surely. No, he’d know better, knew his boy prodigy could take a hit -- and certainly his Zanpakuto remained behind, yet solid and tangible, it hadn’t vanished to signal the death of its wielder. Likely Gin was reported as kidnapped.

          And Aizen would likely be searching for him, among others.

          Gin couldn’t deny the fact that, despite a fresh form of hatred brewing beneath him, seething really, a sickly stomach and a choked up throat.... how it terrified him, sometimes, to know he was well and truly entrapped by this man, no escape, already far too tangled to ever hope to pull himself away... oh, and yet he couldn’t deny that he wanted Aizen to find him. HE WAS TOO FAR DOWN THIS ROAD TO SHY AWAY NOW, too far down the line, he didn’t know what to do with himself if Aizen didn’t find him.

          Luckily, the thought didn’t plague Gin too terribly... even as days stretched on and Gin inevitably had to cave into eating what was offered to him, kind words and warm food did not reach him -- hollowly, patiently, he waited in near-muteness. HE WOULDN’T TELL URAHARA ANYTHING, no matter his gentle demeanor and respecting air, Gin steeled himself akin to a prisoner of war and it became apparent to the older man that the kid had no intentions to trust, to open up. Gin didn’t do that shit for anyone. He’d be damned if he caved and spit his secrets to the one man Aizen had verbally made known that he loathed... and if Aizen found out Gin confessed anything? Wouldn’t he then become a loose end a little... too... costly to be kept alive? Gin saw what Aizen did to pawns who disappointed him. Even Tousen, one of his top favorites, occasionally earned himself a scolding look that spoke of authority and displeasure... would Gin risk everything he had worked for thus far simply to confide in a stranger, shopkeeper, who had stolen him away from it all? No, not worth it.

          Besides, Gin knew it wouldn’t be much longer here.

          Weeks turned to a month, or something close to it.

          But Gin knew it’d be soon. Aizen was, after all, a thorough man.

          So was Urahara, as he had Gin moved downward, below the shop, across an an expansive underground training area  ( Gin didn’t bother trying to wrap his head around the fact that the ceiling looked like the sky outside, save for that ladder and opening... a strange set-up indeed )  A SMART MOVE, ultimately, as it kept Gin from being able to run away without first crawling from the single exit and entrance to the underground space, and it also kept him from getting absolutely leveled alongside the shop the moment Aizen’s reiatsu became known overhead. 

          Gin was accustomed to Aizen’s reiatsu in that he hardly even shuddered upon its weight thrashing downward, and the subsequent explosive force that wrecked the shop above. The Third Seat simply sat upright, looked upward, and held his breath. IT WAS BROAD DAYLIGHT UNDERNEATH THIS FALSE SKY, BUT GIN KNEW BETTER, he felt the chill of the air above flowing in from cracks, drafts, he knew too that Aizen would not act so boldly within a blanket of sunlight -- not yet, at least -- but still how odd it was to see moonlight begin pooling in, downward, from a sunny ceiling crumbling to give way for its visitor.

          A visitor who descended from the false sky’s wreckage as a nightbringer would, doused in darker hues, an ethereal world-ender he was making himself to be -- to become -- before Gin’s own eyes. A PART OF GIN’S UPBRINGING IN THE RUKONGAI URGED HIM TO RUN AND HIDE AT THE MERE SIGHT, seeing such a display of desperate might  ( Aizen was desperate, Aizen was pissed off, he had come for Gin and Gin alone in this moment and it both sickened and pleased him ) ... and part of Gin wanted to turn and run and not look back. HE WANTED TO STAY, HE WANTED TO WATCH THE KOI POND AND THINK NOTHING OF DEATH, CLEAN FINGERNAILS, THE PURRING OF A BLACK CAT, WARM CLOTHES... HE WANTED TO CRY, NO, TAKE ME HOME, I MISS HER, SHE’S WAITING FOR ME, PLEASE -- AH, HE WANTED TO GET OUT WHILE HE STILL COULD, STAY AWAY FROM ME, NO, HELP ME.

          Part of him lingered in shadow, stepping half a step backward rather than forward, into visibility, into Aizen’s frantic range of sight. He could hide himself still, wait for Urahara to step up to challenge Aizen’s wrath, wait for them both to clash and destroy... and then slip away. Or he could open his mouth now, and seal his fate to remain tethered to the man’s side forever more.

          He teetered there, for a second alone, at the precipice. 

          Then the boy called out to Aizen. A quick response, a signal; I’m here!

          Gin had never been one to listen to self-preserving advice.