Seireitei Monogatari

a/n: Another request done, huzzah!

Much love to my fans, my readers, my reviewers. Thank you all! And I hope you had a happy holidays. Thanks to Kuromei, uchiha mikomi, Yakumo and dancingjadedragon.

Title: Fruits Basket
Pairings: Gin/Izuru (light and hinted)
Rating: T
Warning: boyhugs, spoilers
Words: 3135
Description: An easier decision than expected, Izuru escaped to the only place he had ever been wanted.
Dedication: For DramaQueen1193, who wanted a sequel to Musical Chairs.

Discovering what he needed to know wasn't as difficult as Izuru expected it to be. Who knew that the twelfth division was full of such lightweights? But then, they spent most of their waking hours buried in scientific calculations and experiments. Most of them rarely saw battle. It was to be expected that they couldn't handle their liquor either.

More importantly, they became quite loquacious when steeped in sake and beer and whatever free alcohol Izuru pushed on them. His questions had been answered easily, though he'd had to pick apart the information and put it in a coherent order later. The difficulty of that didn't matter when he arrived at the end result.

Izuru packed lightly, carrying only his necessities, Wabisuke and his fourth division med kit, and the few items he couldn’t bear to leave behind. The scarf Hisagi-senpai had knitted for him last winter. A decorative fan that had belonged to his mother. A pair of sunglasses Abarai-kun had gotten him for his birthday. His favorite book of poetry, filled with annotations and side notes from the original owner, Aizen-taichou himself.

He forewent all other items; they were a burden he didn't need. If this worked – and he prayed to whoever was listening that it did – Izuru wouldn't require anything else. He didn't even wear his shihakushou, leaving it behind with his vice-captain's badge and all other trappings of his connection to the Shinigami. Everything else was material goods that didn’t really matter at all to him, reminders of things better forgotten.

Slipping into the cool night, Izuru made his way to the edges of Seireitei, holding his reiatsu to him like a cloak. Only the most astute would be able to sense him, and he doubted that they would even try. It would require effort, and no one believed they needed to think twice about him. Not worth the effort. Not worth noticing. Not up to any mischief.

How very wrong they were.

He had already obtained the necessary device. Izuru wondered how long it would be before they noticed it was gone. Not that he cared. He planned on destroying it the moment its task was complete.

And on the Soukyoku Hill, he looked out and down on Seireitei, certain it was the last time he would see this place. He waited for the pang of longing, for a crushing regret and sadness. He waited for a sense of loss to crash over him. When neither came, Izuru’s resolve only solidified more.

He activated the gate device and watched as a Garganta tore into the space in front of him, giving him a glimpse of darkness beyond. A wave of spiritual pressure accompanied its appearance. Not that it mattered. He would be long gone before anyone thought to investigate.

Izuru emerged on the white, desolate sands of Hueco Mundo, in a flurry of wind and dust. Grimacing, he shielded his eyes against the grit and glanced at what would hopefully become his new home.

There was nothing here but miles of white sand and endless night. He thought he saw something that could be a tree – a dead one granted, but a tree nonetheless. However, he had no clue which direction he should go. Though he supposed it didn't matter. Izuru had no doubt that Aizen-taichou and his subordinates had sensed the Garganta. Someone would find him. Whether to kill or investigate, whichever came first.

Izuru had no choice but to wander until then. So he slung the bag over his shoulder and picked a random direction. To the left seemed as good a way as any and it looked the easy path.

It was difficult to say how long he wandered as the sky never changed. The moon continued to hang in the same exact spot. It was painfully silent, except for the occasional breeze, and all Izuru had learned was that the trees were bone-white and most definitely deceased. It was truly an empty and desolate place, the physical reflection of everything he had always felt in Seireitei.

He didn't even encounter a Hollow, which was strange unto itself. Hueco Mundo was supposed to be full of them, so why hadn't Izuru seen a single one? He was surrounded by silence and solitude, the thought sending a shiver up his spine.

Growing tired, Izuru considered a stop to rest when he had the sudden sensation of being watched. Eyes following his every movement. He paused, scanning the landscape with both his gaze and a surveying sweep of his reiatsu. There was a tingle of power on the edge of his senses, and when Izuru turned, someone stood just behind him.

Not just anyone but one of Aizen-taichou's Arrancar. An Espada he assumed, though he couldn't immediately tell.

“You're going the wrong way,” the brunet informed him, hands casually buried in his pockets as he stood there with posture affecting a lazy nonchalance. Yet, there was something to the calculating look in grayish-blue eyes that hinted to the potential for danger.

Izuru paused to consider him.

“Las Noches is the other direction,” the Arrancar continued when he didn’t get a response.

Izuru shifted and glanced around. “I never was a good guesser,” he replied, wondering if the Espada was here to help or hinder. “What are you--”

“You’re here to see Ichimaru-sama, right?” the Arrancar interrupted, lips pulling into a slow grin. “He said we should keep an eye out for you. The cute and polite blond with blue eyes.”

Something within Izuru warmed at the thought, even as a slow stream of anger burned its way through his veins. Ichimaru-taichou knew he would come? Then why not ask Izuru to leave in the first place? Why leave him behind?

Wary, Izuru's hand rested casually on Wabisuke's hilt. “Then you're not here to stop me?”

“I don't think Ichimaru-sama would like that very much,” the brunet drawled with a tilt of his head to the side. “The name is Stark by the way. And I'm guessing you're Kira Izuru.”

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the white bone resting on Stark's collar, the obvious evidence of his existence. It fascinated Izuru. Already, Hueco Mundo was so different from Seireitei, and Izuru luxuriated in that fact.

Izuru nodded. “Yes, I am, Stark-san.”

The Espada’s smile brightened. “Good. Come with me then.” He flicked his head, tossing strands of hair out of one eye.

And Izuru wasn't inclined to argue. He figured that if Stark wanted to attack him, he would do it already. There was something in the Arrancar's quiescent reiatsu that spoke of unbelievable power. A strength that Izuru knew he wouldn’t be able to counter. The Espada was more than capable of forcing the issue. So he softly followed Stark-san as he actually led them the opposite direction Izuru had been going.

Well, that was embarrassing. He never would have found Las Noches at that rate.

But Stark-san didn’t comment on that fact as he ambled over one white-sanded dune and then another. He was a calm and quiet presence. Content to leave Izuru to his own thoughts and clearly unbothered by the silence. They moved neither slowly nor quickly at first before passing the last of the tall dunes and giving way to sharp bursts of sonido and shunpo that took them directly to the massive gates of Las Noches. Izuru couldn't help but gape in wide-eyed astonishment at the massive fortress. It stood out in stark relief against the inky blackness of Hueco Mundo's sky.

For all its solitary presence and austere lines, it was truly beautiful. A palace fitting a lord of Aizen’s perceived status and nature.

“Our humble abode,” Stark-san commented with a faint gesture, lips twitching into a smirk as sarcasm laced his tone.

Humble wasn't exactly the word Izuru would use to describe this place either. But he didn't argue, simply trailed after his escort through the opening doors and into the silent hallways of Las Noches that were as white as the sand outside. Izuru felt eyes watching them, though he could see no one else, and the walls themselves vibrated with reiatsu, the haunting echo and taste of Hollows. It was a tad discomfiting to Izuru as used to the thrum and ebb of the Shinigami as he was. Not a bad difference, merely unusual. Like a river that was flowing at the same speed but backwards from normal.

The sensation only grew as he followed Stark-san through the twisting, turning corridors until Izuru was certain he'd never find his way out again. Left and then right and three more lefts and then an intersection that he swore that they’d already passed through once before until he found himself in front of a single door.

One hand on the knob, the Espada turned towards him. “The boss is waiting for you,” he explained, once again raking his gaze over Izuru as though assessing him for some reason or another.

Waiting?

A flitter of conflicting emotions stirred in Izuru, but he simply nodded. Letting Stark-san open the door for him and stepping into the room beyond.

Immediately, he shielded his eyes from an immensely bright if false glow. Something in the distance rumbled even as a wave of incredible pressure slammed into Izuru with defining force. He was nearly driven from his feet, standing by sheer will alone. And yet, there was an edge of familiarity in that hollow-tainted reiatsu.

Ichimaru-taichou. Izuru would know him in an instant. Would know him anywhere.

Wind whipped through the vast expanse of indoor sands, and Izuru shielded his face from the grit that showered him. He heard footsteps lightly against the ground, even as the wind faded, leaving a faint chill in the air. Izuru dropped his hand from his face and had his first glimpse at his ex-captain in weeks, in months.

Something flip-flopped inside his chest, ridiculously happy and warmed all at once. Ichimaru-taichou seemed much the same, despite the change in attire from black to white. But more startling was the sight of the mask that covered his face. All angles and a large, wide smile with colorful markings striking up the sides of it.

A Vizard. His former captain was a Vizard. Funny how the thought didn't disgust him as he had been trained to believe it should. In fact, Izuru was more fascinated, wondering just how stronger Ichimaru-taichou was now. Wondering what it would feel like to drag his fingers across the white bone, if it would feel warm and pliable to the touch. If it would feel even more so if he pressed his fingers and lips to it.

How strange the thoughts that flittered through his mind in that moment. How odd and utterly unlike himself.

Ichimaru-taichou stepped closer to him, having said nothing just yet, and when they were a mere arm's length apart, he lifted his hand towards Izuru. To his credit, Izuru didn't shirk away. Just waited for whatever Ichimaru-taichou had planned, a storm of emotions swirling through him.

But the fingers stopped inches from his cheek. Ichimaru-taichou dropped his hand again.

“Ya didn't flinch,” he said, voice holding an odd echo from behind the mask.

“Of course not,” Izuru replied, completely indignant. Words sought to spill from his lips, but he carefully chose from them. “You are my captain, and I’m you’re lieutenant. Where you go, I follow. Even when you don’t ask it of me.”

There was a distinct pause as his words sunk in. And Ichimaru-taichou reached up, his thin fingers curling around the edge of his mask and peeling it away from his face.

“I 'ave my reasons,” he returned, voice returned to normal now but vaguely soft. Not quite his familiar purr, but Izuru was still more than glad to hear it.

Twisting his jaw, Izuru felt something build inside him, something he couldn't quite control. He wanted to hurt this man for making him hurt. He also wanted to grab onto his former captain and never let go. He wanted to rage and cry, all at the same time, even as he drew out Wabisuke and demanded an apology. He wanted to drop to his knees in utter relief. He wanted all of it. None of it. Some of it.

Izuru wasn't entirely certain what he wanted anymore. Just to be here and nowhere else.

His hands curled into fists at his side, forcefully holding himself back. “Why the mask?” Izuru asked instead. Wondering why Ichimaru-taichou had chosen to meet him like this rather than somewhere else as himself alone. He had to have known that Izuru had arrived.

Ichimaru-taichou shrugged, dragging a hand through his hair and closing the space between them with a step. “I figured that if the sight o' me lookin' like this weren't enough ta make ya turn around and go back, then nothin' would.” He gazed at Izuru just then, straightforward and honest. “Do ya know what yer doin', Kira-fukutaichou? Do ya really?”

Izuru wasn't so foolish as to not recognize the use of his title. Which meant nothing now. He had left his badge back in Soul Society, and he had no intentions of going back for it. Going back for any reason without this man at his side.

“It's just Kira,” he corrected with squared shoulders and a lifted chin. “Or even better, just Izuru. And I wouldn't be here if I didn't.”

And for once, he met a pair of slitted eyes dead on. Just watched as Ichimaru-taichou's grin widened, became more genuine, a sight that had never ceased to inspire him before. Izuru remembered living for those smiles. Eager for each second of praise. For the words so rarely given to him by anyone else. But never this man. He, Ichimaru-taichou, had always seemed so proud of him, so pleased with him. Had never been anything but generous and honest.

Ichimaru-taichou gazed at him. And something strange flickered across his facebefore he abruptly grabbed Izuru, pulling him into an embrace.

“’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” he murmured into Izuru’s hair. “I didn’t think ya’d want ta leave yer home. Didn't think ya'd want ta throw all yer hard work away.”

Snorting, Izuru relaxed into the comfort of his former captain's embrace, something he had admittedly never felt before. Relaxed to the feel of thin arms wrapped tightly around his back and waist, fingers knotting into his clothes. To the warmth of his slight frame and steady beat of his heart against Izuru’s chest. To his scent washing over them both, a mix of crisp air and metal and something sweet.

Izuru breathed it in, feeling himself finally ease.

“You're the only one who ever noticed it,” he commented, “What good would it do me to stay there? Besides, they expected it of me. Might as well meet their expectations for once. A first time for everything, I suppose.”

Ichimaru-taichou laughed then, the sound tangible where their bodies pressed together. “I can jes see that old bastard's face now. Red and furious. Serves 'im righ'. Ignorin’ ya… mistreatin’ ya like that fer so long.”

Izuru laughed, too. And it was a strange feeling to him, laughing, but he rather liked it. How odd that he should feel so free now that he would be considered an outlaw and a traitor. How odd that he should feel more at home here than he had in the city of his birth.

He relaxed further into the embrace and simply let himself breathe. Content to be there with his captain all but plastered against him with his hair brushing across Izuru’s cheek.

Then there was a chuckle from somewhere beyond his shoulder.

“You ladies gonna stand there and hug all day?”

Izuru startled at the sudden voice, face flushing in embarrassment. He had completely forgotten about Stark-san. To be honest, he’d thought the Espada had left.

He pulled away from Ichimaru-taichou like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, feeling his cheeks burn. Beside him, his captain’s face was drawn with amusement as his hands lingered before being tucked into his sleeves.

“Get yerself an eyeful, Stark-bo?” Ichimaru-taichou questioned, tone pleasant but holding an edge of something like irritation.

The Arrancar shrugged and scratched at his goatee. “Just enough, Ichimaru-sama.” His eyes flicked over Izuru. “But if I might make a suggestion, your guest could use some rest. He did wander around outside for at least a few hours after all.”

And it wasn't until Stark-san said it that Izuru realized how very tired he was. Exhausted even. He hadn't slept well since the truth emerged those weeks ago. And then planning and plotting had taken his time. He didn't even know how long he had been in Hueco Mundo before Stark had found him.

“I was gettin' ta tha',” Ichimaru-taichou retorted, but there was no heat to it.

Amusement danced in grey-blue eyes. “Sure you were.” Stark snickered and turned away, flicking a hand over his shoulder as the other disappeared into a pocket. “Later, Izuru. I'll show you around or something.”

It was that easy, Izuru supposed. Just like that, accepted immediately. No looks of suspicion. No instant appraisal and dismissal.

Ichimaru-taichou muttered something directed at Stark but turned back towards Izuru all the same. “He’s right. I've been a lousy host. What would Aizen-taichou say?” He grinned again. “Come on, Izuru. Let's find ya a room.”

He started walking towards the doorway that Stark had already gone through, off to do whatever the Arrancar were supposed to do. Izuru just blinked after him for a second before trailing behind.

“Hai, taichou.”

Ichimaru hesitated then, and Izuru nearly collided with him, skidding to an abrupt stop. His brow furrowed as his former captain moved to face him, head tilted to the side.

“Ya don' have to call me tha' anymore, Izuru,” Ichimaru-taichou said softly, almost gently. Eyes not open but not quite slits. “Ya can jes call me Gin now. I’ve told ya before that it's alrigh'.”

Izuru felt his chest warm, and that heat chased away all the weighted emotions that had been building in the past weeks. He was still angry, and he wanted answers, but they could always wait. He had time. Lots of it now.

Izuru wasn't going anywhere. Neither was the man before him.

And he gave a sharp nod. “Alright… Gin-san.”

Gin-san just chuckled and shook his head. “It's a start.” And he beckoned Izuru closer.

Izuru went gladly.

**********

AN: There will be a sequel. I promise. There's so much more I want to do with this. And to think, I've never been much of a Gin/Izuru shipper, but I think I might try turning this one on its toes. Heh heh.

Also, I do keep up with the chapters and I know the most recent ones. I am aware that the "official" spelling of Stark's name is Starrk. However, I don't really like the look of it, so I'll keep spelling it Stark. Just like Halibel and Ulquiorra Schiffer and all that. Just in case you were wondering.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!