Chapter Text
Accidental Child Acquisition
Out of all the possible outcomes Aizen had calculated when the Hougyoku had suddenly activated, finding Gin sitting in a pool of his now oversized clothes blinking at him in complete confusion had not been one of them.
Nor for Gin to turn to him and look at him without a single flicker of recognition. Aizen would be impressed by the Hougyoku’s considerable power and thoroughness if it hadn’t happened to Gin.
Oh, he knew the boy was planning on killing him (or at least, attempt to), but the fact that Gin hides it so well… well, it’s impressive. Aizen can really only admire him for it—and after all these long years Aizen really has become quite fond of the boy. A part of him has been dreading the day Gin will turn on him because no matter how fond, Aizen will cut him down without any hesitation if he stands in his way.
But now that calculating look on that grinning face is gone. Almost like he doesn’t know him at all.
How far back did the Hougyoku de-age him? Aizen frowns thoughtfully, thankful that his Espada keep well out of the way of this place unless he summons them here. Gin looked spooked enough as it was.
He kneels down with Gin still half a room away and smiles in that soft, comforting way that used soothe Hinamori-kun, and once upon time, Gin (not that the boy would ever admit to needing comfort).
But the Gin before him now only looks at him dubiously. And remains pointedly silent. Smart boy, even as a flicker of anger licks at Aizen’s heart because someone so young shouldn’t have such hollowed, suspicious look on their face when confronted with nothing more than a smile.
The unfairness of it makes something in his chest bristle.
Soon that unfairness will be confronted, Aizen promises himself (promises Gin, who is still watching him carefully).
“Hello little one,” he says softly, “do you know where you are?”
“No.” Gin cocks his head at him. “Should I?”
Aizen can’t help but smile at the borderline belligerent tone—even small, and alone, and lost somewhere so unfamiliar, it seems Gin will always have that bite to him.
Who taught you that? He wonders. Who wounded you so much that even the slightest hint of kindness inspires such suspicion in you? Because he would dearly like to tear that person apart.
“I suppose not,” he replies mildly. “Would you like me to tell you?”
Gin’s whole posture suddenly changes, his reiatsu flaring much like a pup trying to bare its milk teeth; it would be amusing if Aizen knew what had caused such a reaction. He frowns, concern creeping like weeds through his ribcage—his reiatsu is bristling with fear.
“I ain’t suckin’ yer cock. Ain’t nuthin’ ya can tell me that I can’t find out on my own,” Gin snarls at him.
And Aizen—Aizen feels like he’s been punched through the chest, disgust coiling hot and then cold in his stomach as he suddenly understood what made someone so young look at the world with such distrust.
And Aizen doubts that Gin has even hit his thirtieth year (if he were human he would be no older than seven)—the fact that he knows what “sucking a cock” even means… just the thought of it turns Aizen’s stomach.
He wills his reiatsu under control and forces his anger away. Now is not the time to lose his temper. Later. When he has space and Gin is safely tucked away he’ll find a few thousand ants to crush, and maybe a mountain or two.
But now Gin doesn’t need his anger, it would only frighten him—he needs kindness that doesn’t come with strings attached, and most importantly he needs patience.
Aizen breathes out, tucking his anger away as he carefully brushes against Gin’s prickly reiatsu with his own. The boy stills. Aizen knows his own reiatsu is sharp, like touching shattered glass—he can soften it of course, make it warm and soft like he did for Hinamori-kun, but Gin needs to trust him and even for as young as he is, Aizen can’t risk him sensing something off about his reiatsu and trying to flee.
That would only lead to disaster.
So Aizen lets Gin feel him out, lets his young, untrained reiatsu poke at him curiously like he’s trying to find his measure. Clever boy. Aizen hides a smirk, no wonder Gin was hailed as a genius—there were fully grown shinigami who couldn’t use their reiatsu like this.
It was truly remarkable to see it one so young.
“May I know your name, little one?” Aizen tries again.
This time his question isn’t met with a towering wall of suspicion, but Gin’s bare shoulders were still hunched defensively. It was a long moment before he answered.
“Gin,” he said quietly, “Ichimaru Gin.”
“Gin. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Aizen Souske.” He lets his reiatsu tangle more firmly in Gin’s, allowing the boy to truly feel his intentions when he speaks because if Gin believes nothing else, he needs him to believe this. “And you’re safe here, I promise.”
“I…” Gin looks at him, startled, “believe ya. Why do I believe ya?” He asks almost to himself.
Aizen smiles at him fondly. “You can feel my reiatsu, right? Well, reiatsu can’t lie,” it was why he got so good at masking it, “when you can feel someone’s reiatsu—if you’re good at it—you can feel those persons intentions, whether they’re lying for instance.”
“And ya ain’t…lying?” Gin asks, sounding so painfully hopeful it makes something in Aizen’s chest twinge.
What an odd feeling. He pushes it away with a reassuring smile. “I’m not.”
He watches Gin twitch when he feels the truth of his words resonate through his reiatsu. And it is the truth, untainted by pretty, empty words—he will slaughter anyone, even Tousen, if he dares to lay a hand on Gin with the intent to hurt him.
“And ya’ ain’t gonna ask me too—”
“No.” Anger slams through his reiatsu before he can stop it and Gin whimpers beneath the weight of it (a sound that stabs Aizen through his ribs like a hot blade) before he manages to reign himself in.
“No,” he says more gently, “never. No one will ever ask you for,” he can’t even bring himself to say it, “that.”
And anyone who does won’t live long enough to regret it.
He sees Gin swallow hard, a mixture of hope and fear on his face.
He doesn’t move from his kneeling position as he holds out his hand. “Come Gin, you will never know fear or hunger again.” You will never again suffer under the uncaring cruelty of the Soul Society.
Gin doesn’t move for one long moment, but suddenly his reiatsu is tangling with his as Gin gets shakily to his feet, naked as the day as he was born and reaches for him.
Aizen has him in his arms in a flash, Gin’s adult haori wrapped around him like a blanket. He cradles Gin tight against his chest and some distant part of him feels something click into place though he has no name for it or the sudden feeling of rightness that flows through him.