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She watched in horror. All she could do was watch. He was so powerful, too powerful, and Gin...and Gin... When it was all over and he was on the ground and Aizen was gone, she went to him. She heard ichigo, heard Aizen, but was heedless of them. Tears slipped down her face, dropped on his face, and she pressed her hands to the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding, praying she could save him. He shut his eyes and a gut wrenching sob escaped her throat. He was gone.
And then she felt him move, just a little. He was lifting up his arm. She might be able to save him! Maybe...maybe..
“Rangiku.” His voice was just a little above a whisper. She couldn't hear him at first, and the tears blurred her vision but she saw him move his lips, saw him open his eyes again. “Rangiku...I did it for you.”
“Gin, why?” she asked. “Why couldn't you just let it go? Why?”
He moved his hand, his fingers brushing the side of her hand, not quite reaching the top. He settled his hand on his chest, next to hers, his fingertips touching the bloodied skin on her hand. She wavered for a moment, then let go of the wound, grasping his hand in hers and squeezing. She felt the smallest squeeze back, and then felt him sigh, just once. “You are the most important person to me in the world. I am sorry I hurt you,” he said, the volume of his voice dropping.
“Gin, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Don't die. Don't leave me alone again.”
“You're not alone,” he said, the weak grip he had on her hand loosened. “You...are not...alone.” And with one last exhale, he shut his eyes again, and she felt his chest cease moving.
She stared, tears streaming down her cheeks, and held on like she could pull him back from the depths, like she could bring him back from the dead. And then she lowered her head, and closed her eyes, and let the ache in her heart come to the surface in great wracking sobs that shook her before she was spent. Only then, when the voices of others got her attention, when her hands were pried from his, when Unohana pulled her away and up and put an arm around her shoulders to move her away, did she realize that the last tie to her childhood, the one who had given her a birthday, the one who had long ago been the center of her world, was gone, and would never come back.
And then there were no more tears. She did not cry over him again. She mourned in quiet, in private, and in the solitude of her mind she accepted his apology, acknowledged what he did, and finally forgave him. And when that happened, only then did she stop feeling alone, because the memory of their youth would always be with her, and the sacrifice he made would stand with her until the day she too died. She would remember, and that would be enough.