Absence Makes the Heart Go Yonder

A/N: This was a bitch and a half to write. Not the story, but I kept getting interrupted every other sentence. Made it hard to get any kind of coherence. Also, sorry it took so long. Between birthday parties, week long stomach bugs, and hurricanes, things have been crazy around here. No beta here. Warning: entering possible error zone (I've apparently gone crazy with the commas. If you see any problems, please point them out to me!)

A/N 2: I have gone through and fixed a few things. Well, rather quite a lot. (second attempt to update...)

* * *
The courtyard was empty, which was not surprising since the sun had set, but he had expected to see someone cleaning up around the place. Jinta may have been a slacker, but both Ururu and Tessai were fastidious assistants.

Sliding the front door open, he stepped in and removed his shoes. After placing them by the front step, he tentatively called into the darkened room, “Hello?”

No response. Raucous laughter emanated from somewhere in the back of the store. Either a television was too loud, or Geta-boushi had company. He grimaced at the thought of intruding, but the only visitors that ever came to the shop were shinigami.

Did Urahara even know what a television was?

Ichigo wondered if he could safely sneak a package of biscuits. Yuzu had gone on a date, and Karin had to work on a group project for school leaving him to fend for himself. His father had nearly burnt the house down trying to cook a meal. It had not been pretty.

Needless to say, he had missed dinner.

He spied something he figured no one would miss near the register. Cautiously he reached for the box

Without warning, his wrist was encircled within a cool, vice-like grip. He yelped, but a hand wrapped around his mouth to silence him, and he was drawn back against a hard, tall body.

The digits over his mouth smelled like soap, and very familiar. Before he could place the scent, though, his right wrist was wrenched painfully behind his back. Arching away from his twinging nerves, Ichigo tried to tip his head back to see who had ensnared him.

Any further movement was restricted as the fingers tightened about his face. They were thin, the grip strong, and not feminine in the slightest.

The figure bent over slightly and placed lips near Ichigo's ear. “I'm willin' ta bet Urahara-san won't take kindly ta uninvited guests jus' takin' his hard-earned wares,” intoned a honeyed tongue.

Ichigo's eyes widened and he grasped at the hand at his face. He thrashed violently trying to break free; he most certainly did not want his throat and stomach exposed to Ichimaru Gin.

“Nuh-uh,” Gin commanded and jerked Ichigo against him. Ichigo clutched at Gin's wrist in vain. A breathless sound escaped his captor at the contact, but Gin prodded him forward with a twist to his bound arm. The substitute shinigami filed Gin's reaction away for later analysis as the soon-to-be captain lockstep marched him toward the merrymaking. “Let's go say hi ta everyone,” he suggested in a sugary voice.

They stopped in the door frame, and Gin relaxed his hold on Ichigo's arm enough to allow blood to flow once more. Gin chuckled softly as Ichigo took in the sight before him.

Ururu and Tessai were removing dishes from the table where Rukia, Renji, Yoruichi, and Matsumoto sat talking animatedly to each other. Jinta was defeating Hitsugya at a console fighting game on a rather large, flat screened television (how had he missed that?) Urahara sat slightly apart from the others at the table and lazily watched the exuberant activity.

With the exception of the young mod souls and Hitsugaya, everyone was smashed.

The blond sensed them and turned, his eyes gleaming with amusement at Ichigo's predicament. He snapped his fan open to hide his upturned lips. Matsumoto noticed the movement and turned to see what had grabbed Urahara's attention. She stilled at the sight, unsure of what had occurred between the two high level shinigami.

“Urahara, I found 'im tryin' ta sneak snacks from tha front,” tattled Gin. By increasing the pressure of his grip, he pulled the younger man onto his toes. Gin then snaked his slender arm around and caressed soft, vulnerable belly skin. “Can we keep 'im?” he asked. Silvery hair fell haphazardly over his hidden eyes as he rested his chin against the crook of Ichigo's neck.

Off balanced as he was, Ichigo could only blush at being caught red-handed, then put on display.

Renji and Rukia were now dozing comfortably against each other, and Yoruichi had moved to watch Jinta utterly crush Hitsugaya in another match. Matsumoto downed another cup of sake.

Not that he minded them paying attention to things other than his humiliating circumstance, but how could they all sit there and actively ignore Gin molesting him?

Urahara slapped his fan shut, then threw his arms wide open in a welcoming gesture. “Kurosaki-kun, nice of you to stop by. Have you eaten? I'm guessing you haven't if you've resorted to pirating junk food,” he turned to find Ururu. She watched them from the doorway, then nodded her understanding, and ran towards the kitchen.

Ichigo pulled on the hand at his mouth. Nothing. He slid his thumb over the inside of Gin's wrist. The other man gave an almost imperceptible shiver that Ichigo only felt from the forced intimacy. A heartbeat pulsed faintly, and he ran his thumb along it unconsciously. There was that tremor again, but this time it was not so subtle.

Urahara noticed. So did Matsumoto, and she tilted her head in curiosity.

Gin felt the smile as it spread across his palm, and he tensed. “Rmh mrhee mmph!” came from behind his hand.

With the civility of someone ten years younger, Ichigo licked Gin's palm. He then proceeded to slather as much saliva as he could muster into every crevice his tongue could reach. The pale shinigami released Ichigo.

Having siblings had long ago taught Ichigo how to deal with dilemmas concerning proxemics.

As the air hit all that drool, Gin recoiled in mock disgust. He barely had time to smirk before Ichigo slammed him back against the wall. Gin raised his hands in defeat, but his smile showed he wasn't worried. The terracotta eyes before him simmered with repressed fury, and something else. Something less tangible, and uncertain.

“Oh! Fight, fight!” Yoruichi pumped her fist in the air as she cheered Hitsugaya on, “Go, Toshiro!” Sneering, the young captain snapped back, “Captain Hitsugaya. Shut up. You're ruining my concentration, Shihoin.” Apparently, from the sound of his voice, Hitsugaya had helped himself to the sake.

Urahara cleared his throat, and Ichigo looked in his direction. The erstwhile captain was just out of range of flying fists or feet. The shopkeeper was trying to distract him with a rather large bowl of food. Ichigo's eyes sparked dangerously before he turned them back to Gin. His stomach complained loudly, and Gin flashed him a smile sweet enough to fool angels.

Ichigo shoved Gin into the wall once more before letting him go. Turning, he snatched the dish from Urahara and stomped over to the table. He sat down across from the slumbering mass that was Rukia-Renji, and began inhaling his dinner.

Urahara returned to his place at the table. Gin followed shortly after, making sure to hold his slick hand out from his body as he sat between Urahara and Ichigo. “Nevermind,” he cracked as he inspected his palm, “Ya'd get slobber all over tha place.” He swiftly wiped it off on Urahara's shoulder.

He choked in an attempt to not exhale noodles through his nose at the look on Urahara's sulking face. Ichigo wished he had just decided to ignore Gin. Almost. Gin eyed Ichigo, then set his chin in his palm as his smile softened with affection.

If Ichigo had even an ounce of trust for the man sitting next to him, he'd find the smile endearing. Instead, he retorted acidly, “Creep.” Shoveling food into his mouth, he rudely continued around it, “Wha', ro I ha' foo' shtuck in my teef or somefin'?” He rolled his eyes, then snubbed the man further by shifting his attention to the television.

“Kurosaki-san, when I went to finish my chores, I found this all alone on the floor. Is it yours?” quietly asked Ururu as she lurked in the doorway. Ichigo paused to peer at her over his bowl. He nodded in recognition, then grunted his thanks as she set it down beside him.

Matsumoto's eyes narrowed as she looked at the bag. There was a red silk ribbon tied to it. Her expression turned coquettish and she quizzed, “Ichigo! Who's the ribbon from? Some new lady friend at college?” She tried to pluck it from where it was tied.

Within the blink of an eye, Gin had snatched the fan from Urahara and whacked Matsumoto on the wrist. Urahara was stunned and regarded Gin as the other man fluttered the paper construct in apathy. He had forgotten how fast Gin was. Reaching his hand out for the fan, the blond chided, “Matsumoto, it isn't polite to take someone else's stuff without permission.” Gin returned the fan to its rightful owner.

The vice-captain rubbed at the sore spot and looked away. “You don't have to be so serious. I just wondered whether Ichigo had an admirer,” she grumped.

From a seemingly sound sleep, Rukia sat straight up and cackled, “Ichigo has a girlfriend? As if!” Renji fell to the floor still dead to the world. He instinctively curled up under the table to escape the light.

Chopsticks coming to a stop, Ichigo blushed as red as the object being discussed. “It's just a stupid ribbon.” He appeared to be deep in thought before he shook it off and rationalized, “I passed a store at the mall and saw it. I only bought it because of some random nostalgia.”

“You woke me up for that? He's had that thing for years,” Rukia objected. Her dark eyes swept the table for more alcohol. An impish look came over her features and she proclaimed, “Ichigo could never have a girlfriend. He's too much of a prude.” She poked Matsumoto in the side and reminded the busty woman, “I'm sure you remember. That first time you stayed here?”

“Do we really need to bring this up again?” lamented Ichigo. He dropped his head to hide his burning cheeks.

Yoruichi perked up as she heard Ichigo whine. Tormenting him was always fun. Sauntering over, she plunked the flagon down on the table. Placing her hands on her hips, she teased, “You should have seen his reaction when I first showed him my human form. I thought he was going to have an aneurysm.”

Gin's head canted slightly. “Oh?” he prompted, and with that one little word, Ichigo just knew the women would start in on him again. He lifted his eyes to glare at Gin for the impending doom of his self-esteem.

The noble woman plopped down between Rukia and Matsumoto before pouring them each another round. Ichigo held out his hand. With a smirk Yoruichi passed him a cup.

“Cheers!” sounded around the table as they lifted their cups.

Apprehensive of what would inevitably come next, Ichigo swallowed the his drink in one gulp, then ducked under the table and hid his face behind his hands. He heard no sound come from them. Worried by the increasing silence, Ichigo peeked tentatively through his fingers.

Yoruichi had somehow managed to finagle her way out of her pants without making a noise, and Matsumoto was delicately holding her skirt up. With an undignified squawk, Ichigo tried to sit upright and smacked his head on the table for his trouble. Nope, same trick as always.

The women howled with laughter. “He was peeping!” snickered Rukia.

Ichigo's hands dropped away and he glared at his friend. “I was not!” he countered angrily before explaining, “Y'all were being too quiet. I didn't want the lot of you ganging up on me, and doing God only knows what!” A chuckle drew his attention askance, and he turned to Gin, “What's so funny, Grin Reaper?”

Gin's smile grew as he watched the young man, and he pointed back to the ladies.

Ichigo tried not to look, really, he didn't want to, but his head turned slowly of its own accord. As he made eye contact with Matsumoto, she flashed him. His brain lagged a few seconds behind his eyes until he realized that he was staring at her bare chest.

“Argh!” he roared as his face turned scarlet once more; Ichigo planted his forehead against the table with an audible thunk.

Hitsugaya twitched at all the noise and he ordered, “Matsumoto, put your breasts away this instant.” He didn't skip a beat as Jinta, who had been engrossed in the game, turned toward the table with large eyes just as Matsumoto adjusted her clothes. The short captain continued and the game announced the complete and utter annihilation of his foe. “Hey,” Jinta wailed, “that's cheating!”

“Its not my fault you can't concentrate,” he retorted. The white-haired captain tossed over his shoulder, “And I'd appreciate if you two wouldn't encourage my vice-captain. She's bad enough as it is.”

Matsumoto crossed her arms under her breasts, which only emphasized her grand cleavage. She huffed “The guys get to run around topless all the time. Why can't we?”

Yoruichi shot Hitsugaya a reproachful look and cracked, “We're just having some fun. You should try it sometime, little man.”

An eye twitched at her words, and he retorted, “First off, we wouldn't be having this discussion if you weren't such an enabler. Second,” he directed this at Matsumoto, “You would have an unfair advantage in any fight with those extra weapons.” Hitsugaya clenched the controller tightly in his hand and launched it at Yoruichi's head. The cat-like lady caught the projectile and hurled it back towards him. Hitsugaya deflected, it and the device crashed into the wall, narrowly missing the expensive television.

“Okay!” Urahara announced, sounding much less cheerful than the look his face was attempting to convey, “since everyone has so much energy, how about we move the party downstairs?” He forced a smile then added, “Before my place is destroyed....”

Renji bolted upright and slammed his hands on the table. “Oy, Ichigo, let's go spar.”

The substitute shinigami dropped his jaw and stuttered, “Were you just pretending to be asleep?! Besides, you're still sloshed. I don't want to hurt you.”

The vice-captain of the Sixth stared at Ichigo as if he'd grown another head. “What are you talking about? Are you feeling okay?” he rambled on in his drunken stupor, “I can still wipe your ass with the floor.”

Rukia and Matsumoto turned to each other. Their eyes briefly made contact before the two broke into uncontrollable snickering. With a shrug Ichigo rose, his response apathetic, “Whatever.”

* * * *

The sound of rock exploding echoed throughout the vast space. “That's Captain Hitsugaya to you!” resounded around them. An annoyed Rukia yelled out, “Hey, you two, watch where you fling your stupid debris,” as she dodged a large shard of ice. The outbursts from the not so play fighting between Hitsugaya and Yoruichi moved farther from the group.

Rukia, Matsumoto, Gin, and Urahara were lounging around what remained of the sake, while Kon sat blearily in Ichigo's body holding the stuffed lion close. Ichigo and Renji took up fighting stances.

“Bankai!” yelled Renji.

The other shinigami sighed and followed suit, but an oddly undulating Zabimaru forced an involuntary snort of laughter from Ichigo. “How did you manage to get your zanpakuto drunk?!” snickered the strawberry-blond.

“Shut up!” the tattooed man bellowed before propelling himself at his opponent. He didn't make it very far before the bone snake tackled his master. “GAAHR!” bellowed Renji, “What do you think you're doing?” The serpent coiled his chitinous rings around the vice-captain and promptly passed out. “Zabimaru!?”

This was not what he expected. Ichigo dragged a hand over his face in exasperation. Not wanting to pass up the chance, Ichigo goaded “Yo, Renji, are we done?” Renji's timely response as he tried to free himself from his confines was conveyed in rude gestures and obscene curses that made even the very inebriated Matsumoto blush.

The shopkeeper decided to meddle. If Gin and Ichigo planned on running a squad together, there needed to be less discord between the two. “Hey, Ichigo, why don't you spar with Ichimaru-san?” implored Urahara loudly in the most unassuming voice he could muster, “He needs some practice if he's going to pass those tests and become your captain.”

Ichigo whirled to face Urahara, his eyes turbulent as he considered the words. An incredulous look briefly flickered across Gin's face before he covered it with his ever-present grin. Ichigo took morbid satisfaction in knowing that Gin hadn't been told about his future second-in-command. So the man was capable of being caught off guard.

Those vulpine eyes had turned to him and were watching a little too intently. Gin waved. “Fine,” Ichigo stated as hefted Zangetsu onto his shoulder. Scratching the edge of his jaw, he gazed off into the distance.

Gin stood and looked down to brush the dirt from his shihakusho. Though he would have it back soon enough, he missed the comforting weight of his white haori. Casting his senses out, he felt for Ichigo's precise location. As soon as he pinpointed where the younger man was, Gin flash-stepped directly into the personal space of the ever cautious Kurosaki Ichigo.

Startled by the sudden convergence upon his position, Ichigo faltered. Suddenly finding himself face to face with a foe as fast as Gin was unnerving. In an attempt to put space between them, he tried to step away from Gin, but the older man caught him by the elbow.

“Where ya goin'? Ain't we supposed ta be fightin'? Gin asked just loud enough for Ichigo to hear.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes and retorted, “You're currently unarmed.”

The smile on Gin's face stretched and he chuckled, “I don't need Shinsou ta beat ya.” He leaned in and poked Ichigo on the nose.

Ichigo angrily jerked his arm free and darted into the air. With a determined look, he suppressed his bankai and strapped Zangestu onto his back. The red-head crossed his arms over his chest.

Gin's smile turned calculating, and far too wide as he studied Ichigo's posture. He liked to push buttons; if he could force a confrontation by antagonizing the supposedly unflappable elites of the Gotei 13, they would resolve their differences. Sometimes.

That, and it was fun to see how easily a careless, offhand comment would crack the composed masks everyone seemed to like wearing.

More quickly than his target could follow, Gin flash-stepped up to Ichigo. “Ya make this too easy fer me, Strawberry,” he taunted as he stepped quickly away before maneuvering behind the substitute shinigami. He flitted about until Ichigo was reeling from the attempt to trace Gin's movements.

Ichigo froze as he heard Gin utter from behind him, “Way of bindin', sixty-three: windin', restrictive chain.” Ribbons of energy began to wrap around him. Before his very eyes, they plaited into a thick, heavy rope that enveloped him tightly. He glared at Gin as the man drifted around to gloat, “See? Simple.”

“Now that I have yer rapt attention, we should go over some rules,” Gin lectured as he tapped his chin. “Don't go spoilin' all my fun. A captain's gotta do what a captain's gotta do, and really, my antics are only fer lightenin' up tha mood. Usually.” He paused long enough to watch Ichigo test his bonds before carrying on, “Also, ya should smile more. I can't have ya being so dour all tha time. It's bad fer morale, Ichigo-kun.”

Taking a page from Hitsugaya's book, Ichigo replied, “That's vice-captain Kurosaki to you.”

Assured that his vice-captain was going nowhere, Gin continued, “See? That's what I'm talkin' 'bout. Ya don't talk to yer friends like that.”

“You're not my friend, and I'm only here cause I'll have to clean up after you screw up,” Ichigo snapped without missing a beat, “Besides, you don't have any friends. You abandoned them all.”

An injured expression flashed across Gin's face at the words, but Ichigo was too busy trying to disentangle himself to notice. With a glance down at Matsumoto, Gin blithely commented, “Now that's not very nice. What did I ever do ta deserve that kinda treatment?”

Ichigo's head snapped up, and he became still as he scrutinized Gin. Since the last captains' meeting he had forced himself to repress all feelings concerning the traitor. In his mind, Gin was now simply a miscreant who needed to be chaperoned.

Scrunching his eyes shut, he tried to clear his head from the rush of conflicting thoughts. His hollow decided to augment the confusion by hissing sly suggestions.

Man up, King. He ain't captain yet. Kick his teeth in. If you don't, I will.

Acknowledging Gin's question forced Ichigo to recognize his true transgressions. However, if Gin had unwittingly committed the acts, then Ichigo had to overlook the offenses made against his friends and acquaintances.

He had no real choice in the matter. It had been an order.

It hurt.

“Yer jus' gonna hafta deal with it,” stated Gin in a matter-of-fact tone.

The sound of silence filled the air, and Gin's carefree attitude slipped away as he suddenly realized that something important had been going on inside Ichigo's head, and it had nothing to do with Gin's playful attempt at discipline.

Well, if he insists on making this easy for me, I'm not gonna complain.

A white noise filled Ichigo's brain as he tried desperately to compartmentalize Gin's satire, the hollow's attempts to confiscate his body, and his own inner demons. The relentless entity within him knew what would come next, and lashed out at the weakened defenses as Ichigo tried to disconnect from his emotions.

My turn to play.

Black suddenly spread across his sclera, and Ichigo was unceremoniously tossed into the inner city of his mind. He caught a glimpse of the intangible figure of his zanpakuto. Zangestu smirked before casting his owner out of the sanctuary, and back into his ethereal body to handle the rebellious hollow.

With a jerk, the red-head gasped as he was forcefully merged with his dissenting alter ego. Everything felt raw; there was twice the sensory input traveling along his nerves. He winced as the kidou constricted against his reiatsu.

“Why?” Ichigo asked quietly in an unearthly voice.

“Aw, c'mon. They're jus' rules. Nothin' to get so worked up about,” Gin eased.

Ichigo lifted ink-colored eyes in the direction from which the words came, but not of his own volition: his hollow shared partial custody. They wrestled for control, and came into a fragile balance. Ichigo maintained command of his movements with minimal influence from his hollow, but he lost the ability to regulate his emotions.

The hollow took advantage by pouring a thirst for blood into the substitute shinigami. Ichigo's field of vision became tinged with red. Forcing reiatsu into his bonds was a purely visceral response. The tethers began to split, then fray as power began to overload the kidou.

There was a massive explosion as the spell was forcefully undone.

Gin had the breath knocked out of him as he collided with a boulder. He felt all his joints creak with protest as he pushed himself away. Looking around, he found he had landed in a rocky outcropping. He couldn't see the other shinigami, and there was no sign of Ichigo. Gin scanned the air, his features etched with worry. Either the strawberry had blown himself up, or things were about to get interesting.

Gin was startled to find Ichigo standing before him. The man had seemingly blinked into existence. Ichigo impaled the rock with Zangetsu as he narrowly avoided lopping of Gin's right ear. Blood began to pool from a shallow cut.

You drew first blood.

“Guess next time I'm gonna hafta use the entire incantation on ya,” Gin said with a lighthearted smile. It stretched across his face, erasing any signs of his prior concern.

Ichigo released the blade, and in nothing flat had Gin's thin wrists pressed into the stone, caging the older man's head within his sinewy arms. “You didn't answer my question,” he rumbled.

He's evil, King. More so than me, maybe.

Gin didn't seemed phased in the slightest. “Anyone ever tell ya how cute ya are when yer angry?” he chirped pleasantly.

The hollow's onslaught abruptly ceased.

Ichigo faltered and rested his head upon Gin's shoulder as the incessant strain eased up. The younger man tried to regain his composure, but he and the hollow were still connected. Every time he moved, he felt the hollow in his skin. It was unnerving, yet sensual little shocks went skittering across his skin with each movement.

Ichigo felt a tingle travel down his spine, and it spread out from his abdomen. He lifted his head ever so slightly, and tried to contain the unwelcome gasp. He knew what the sneaky bastard was doing. With a mental shove, Ichigo tried to force the hollow to obey. His hollow shoved back and reopened the floodgate to his emotions.

Look at him, so fragile. Wouldn't take much to break. Do it!

Dropping Gin's wrists, Ichigo braced his arms against the rock as the hollow tried to seduce Ichigo into giving in. Wave after wave of anger tempered with lust washed through him.

The older shinigami barely kept from gawking at the raging ball of hormones Ichigo had become, “Vice-captain Kurosaki?” pressed Gin softly. The red-head squeezed his eyes shut to block it out, but he couldn't keep from tangling his fingers into the silvery strands at the base of Gin's skull.

Gin moaned as the strong fingers threaded through his hair, and he tried to pass it off as an amused chuckle. Not entirely sure what was going on, he questioned with more urgency, “Hey, Strawberry?” He needed to get Ichigo's attention. With an uncertain hand, he cupped the red-head's cheek.

What did I tell you? He's submitting....

The hollow whooped in perceived triumph, the insane sound bouncing around inside Ichigo's cranium. He was managing to keep some semblance of control until the hollow decided to flash suggestive mental images against the back of Ichigo's eyelids.

Gin grimaced as the fingers clenched his hair tightly. He was about to say something when the younger man turned his face into the crook of his neck. The quasi-captain stopped breathing altogether when Ichigo lapped up the blood dripping down his jaw. Ichigo couldn't help it, and moved on to nibble the nearest earlobe.

The hollow was currently fantasizing about Gin, then sending the visualized sensations back across their shared synapses. He was having a hard time discerning reality from imagination as the feedback looped back to the hollow, and fueled his other self's deranged flights of fancy.

When had his hollow become so creative?

With a growl of frustration, Ichigo followed the faint pulse down Gin's neck before latching onto it with eager teeth. Gin's ashen head banged back against the rock as Ichigo sucked at his flesh.

That was going to leave a mark.

Not realizing he had been holding his breath, Gin exhaled harshly, and scrabbled to find a place for his idle hands. He settled on wrapping them in the dark cloth of Ichigo's shihakusho.

“Kurosaki,” Gin rasped. A clever tongue lapped at the bruise that began to form before moving up to trace his jaw again. Panting, Gin tried more insistently, “Ichigo!”

The red-head looked slowly at Gin with lidded eyes. Realization dawned on Ichigo, and he clamped his hands aimlessly against his temples. The hollow howled with rage as his hold on Ichigo began to slip. Ichigo roared back and the mental struggle began anew.

The red and white serrated mask slammed painfully over Ichigo's face. The hollow had regained partial ability to move them again, and it grabbed Gin by the throat with glee.

“Inoue-chan,” Gin whispered raggedly, “fell in love with Ulquiorra.” His smile was as unsteady as his voice, but he continued as best as he could. “I think ya call it,” flinching as the digits compressed his vocal chords, he looked for the right term, “Stockholm syndrome?”

He's lying!

It was Ichigo that tightened his fingers around the Gin's throat this time.

“She didn't want to see tha two of ya fight each other,” Gin wheezed, and tried to get the last few words out, “She did what she thought was best fer everyone.” Stars were dancing in front of his eyes now, but Gin reached up to caress the edge of the otherworldly mask. He slid his thumb underneath, then swept it across Ichigo's cheek.

The mask fractured down the center, then disintegrated leaving a bewildered Ichigo gazing at him. Gin stared back before confiding, “I don't know why. The memories are jus' gone; right outta my head. Happened, I think, when Inoue....” Gin trailed off, and stared at some point over Ichigo's shoulder.

With a subtle shift of his shoulders, Ichigo released the other shinigami.

The hollow was surreptitiously dragged back into his own realm where Zangetsu merely smiled at him from atop his usual perch. Stupid zanpakuto! he snarled. The negative version of Ichigo kicked at the post as he walked past to find a quiet place to destroy.

Ichigo glanced up. His eyes traveled past the pale hand clasped loosely around a rapidly bruising throat, and was caught within Gin's oddly entertained gaze. The smirk that graced Gin's features broke into a genuine smile. “I'll hafta ta make sure yer the one who ends up hoarse next time we practice,” the older man drawled in a rough voice.

A wicked laugh came from his hollow, and Ichigo closed his eyes against the mental images that threatened to resurface. Gin chuckled at his reaction, and Ichigo tried to hide his pink cheeks by flash-stepping away.