Follow The Leader
Title: Follow The Leader
Author: green_amberjade
Prompt: 5. Russia
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Gin Ichimaru/Rangiku Matsumoto
Summary: She knew he'd be the death of her, but she'd stayed anyway.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: implied character death, cannibalism.
Russia (Soviet Years)
She had known that it would end this way since the very first time she set eyes upon him. He had held out a piece of cooked meat to her, as if she were a small dog. Behind him, she could see smoke raising up into the air, dark and hungry. Yellow flames licked the blue sky as a tall farmhouse collapsed into itself.
She hadn't eaten for three days.
He didn't flinch when she pushed her body up into a sitting position and grabbed his skinny wrist with both her bony hands and tore the meat from him with her mouth. As she worried the food with her remaining teeth, the boy reached forward with his other hand and stroked her blonde hair in slow motions, pulling apart the countless tangles. Some of her fleas crawled from her scalp onto his warm fingers.
He didn't tell her where he got the meat, and she didn't ask.
When he turned to go, he pulled her up beside him and helped her to walk away from the fire and the angry sky.
Even then, as a small child of ten, she had known the fate that lay in store for her at the hands of that twelve year old boy with the kind smile, the haunted eyes, and the long, pale fingers dripping with meat juice.
Perhaps that was why she was so calm now, as she stared into the muzzle of the handgun. For a long moment, she was silent, her face revealing nothing that he would be able to read. She hoped.
Her eyes slid slowly past the gun and up to his face, which, strangely, was as unreadable as her own. Usually, she was able to read all of his moods, or at least, read them better than anyone else could, but at this moment, she couldn't think of one emotion that could describe his face. It was as if he were a sculpture, a badly made one. After all, nobody was interested in a face that was just... there.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, before she could finally force her lips, tongue and jaw to move.
"This isn't quite what I was expecting when you told me you had a surprise for me, Gin."
His trademark grin appeared. He could see through her lie. But he played along. Just like he always did. "What did you expect, Ran?" He lowered the weapon so that it could rest at the base of her throat. "Diamonds?"
She couldn't stop the smile that formed on her lips. "Sapphires," she said and winked.
Gin laughed, and wrapped his free arm around her waist. Out of habit, she leaned into his touch, her eyelids fluttering shut. The cold metal of the pistol kissed the hollow of her neck, as his lips found hers. Her hands reached up to cradle his face as his fingers dragged themselves down her backbone, bump by bump.
He never told her where the meat came from and she never asked. Nobody asked where the meat came from, out in the country. It was the only way to preserve your sanity in the never dying madness. If somebody disappeared, Rangiku knew better than to ask questions, especially if Gin was involved. And he always was.
That was the reason why they had found themselves in the city. Gin had gained the attention of a wealthy man. A wealthy man with friends. A wealthy man who saw his potential. Once more, Gin had taken Rangiku's hand and pulled her along after him. She had followed with no protest.
Instantly their lives began to improve. Gin was given a dark brown uniform and was taught how to carry a sword and ride a horse. Rangiku had more dresses than she could ever have hoped to own. They never went hungry. These days all she had to worry about was ignoring the crimson stains on Gin's uniform. She never asked him what exactly his job was and he never told her.
They broke apart. She panted slightly as he looked on. The murder weapon slid down her torso to rest between her breasts. Her heart beat faster and faster against her ribcage.
Perhaps it was the way that he was looking at her, or maybe she was just plain tired of being left in the dark all the time. "Tell me why." She grabbed him by the shirt collar.
He grinned down at her. "'Cause you can't kill a corpse."
She'd known since the very beginning he would be the death of her. She'd known and she'd stayed. And that's really all there is to it.
Author: green_amberjade
Prompt: 5. Russia
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Gin Ichimaru/Rangiku Matsumoto
Summary: She knew he'd be the death of her, but she'd stayed anyway.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: implied character death, cannibalism.
Russia (Soviet Years)
She had known that it would end this way since the very first time she set eyes upon him. He had held out a piece of cooked meat to her, as if she were a small dog. Behind him, she could see smoke raising up into the air, dark and hungry. Yellow flames licked the blue sky as a tall farmhouse collapsed into itself.
She hadn't eaten for three days.
He didn't flinch when she pushed her body up into a sitting position and grabbed his skinny wrist with both her bony hands and tore the meat from him with her mouth. As she worried the food with her remaining teeth, the boy reached forward with his other hand and stroked her blonde hair in slow motions, pulling apart the countless tangles. Some of her fleas crawled from her scalp onto his warm fingers.
He didn't tell her where he got the meat, and she didn't ask.
When he turned to go, he pulled her up beside him and helped her to walk away from the fire and the angry sky.
Even then, as a small child of ten, she had known the fate that lay in store for her at the hands of that twelve year old boy with the kind smile, the haunted eyes, and the long, pale fingers dripping with meat juice.
Perhaps that was why she was so calm now, as she stared into the muzzle of the handgun. For a long moment, she was silent, her face revealing nothing that he would be able to read. She hoped.
Her eyes slid slowly past the gun and up to his face, which, strangely, was as unreadable as her own. Usually, she was able to read all of his moods, or at least, read them better than anyone else could, but at this moment, she couldn't think of one emotion that could describe his face. It was as if he were a sculpture, a badly made one. After all, nobody was interested in a face that was just... there.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, before she could finally force her lips, tongue and jaw to move.
"This isn't quite what I was expecting when you told me you had a surprise for me, Gin."
His trademark grin appeared. He could see through her lie. But he played along. Just like he always did. "What did you expect, Ran?" He lowered the weapon so that it could rest at the base of her throat. "Diamonds?"
She couldn't stop the smile that formed on her lips. "Sapphires," she said and winked.
Gin laughed, and wrapped his free arm around her waist. Out of habit, she leaned into his touch, her eyelids fluttering shut. The cold metal of the pistol kissed the hollow of her neck, as his lips found hers. Her hands reached up to cradle his face as his fingers dragged themselves down her backbone, bump by bump.
He never told her where the meat came from and she never asked. Nobody asked where the meat came from, out in the country. It was the only way to preserve your sanity in the never dying madness. If somebody disappeared, Rangiku knew better than to ask questions, especially if Gin was involved. And he always was.
That was the reason why they had found themselves in the city. Gin had gained the attention of a wealthy man. A wealthy man with friends. A wealthy man who saw his potential. Once more, Gin had taken Rangiku's hand and pulled her along after him. She had followed with no protest.
Instantly their lives began to improve. Gin was given a dark brown uniform and was taught how to carry a sword and ride a horse. Rangiku had more dresses than she could ever have hoped to own. They never went hungry. These days all she had to worry about was ignoring the crimson stains on Gin's uniform. She never asked him what exactly his job was and he never told her.
They broke apart. She panted slightly as he looked on. The murder weapon slid down her torso to rest between her breasts. Her heart beat faster and faster against her ribcage.
Perhaps it was the way that he was looking at her, or maybe she was just plain tired of being left in the dark all the time. "Tell me why." She grabbed him by the shirt collar.
He grinned down at her. "'Cause you can't kill a corpse."
She'd known since the very beginning he would be the death of her. She'd known and she'd stayed. And that's really all there is to it.