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Chained to an Escapist	By : Lances Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2565 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
WARNINGS: In this chapter, nothing much really, except this is unbetaed. Generally, YAOI (aka male/male relationship), VIOLENCE and INSANITY.
A/N: Thank you for your kind reviews and encouraging words! I already warned that I am a slow writer, so I don�t bother to apologize that I�m such a slow updater. Just� try to bear with me! Thanks! -Lances
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Chained to an Escapist
by Lances
Chapter 4: A Sleepless Night
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Gin lay face down on his simple futon, breathing in the fresh scent of the crisp white sheets. It was late at night; how late, he didn't know, but the darkness outside was already impenetrable. There was no moon in the sky because it was thickly clouded, nor were there any pretty stone lanterns in the garden to create a consoling, cosy atmosphere. The only window in Gin's room looked into a small, enclosed courtyard, where only menacing blackness prevailed.
It had been a hellish day � hellish according to even Gin's torpid standards. Losing a few measly fingers in the morning was nothing compared to what he�d been forced to go through in the afternoon. But Gin didn't want to think about it. The meeting with the Kuchiki family council had possibly been the most terrifying, humiliating experience in his entire life, and thinking back on it would only drive him crazy. Or, crazier than what he already was. He could still feel the itch on his skin where he'd been touched against his will, and he could still hear the voices of those condemning noblemen (and noblewomen) inside his head, mocking him, sneering at him, pointing out his shortcomings, seeking out his flaws.
Gin shivered; he really didn't want to remember it, but he did. He didn't want to think about it, but he did. He didn't want to experience it again and again in his mind - not now, when everything was calm and quiet in the house, not now when the wind softly rattled the chimes outside in the darkness and lulled the world to sleep...
But he did.
Biting the inside of his cheek so hard it bled, Gin forced the horrendously torturous memories to recede. After all... at the moment, he was feeling relatively good. He was no longer in pain, at least not physically, and he was warm and comfortable. The drugs he'd been given earlier were finally taking effect, making him feel tranquil, relaxed and secure - almost even frighteningly so. He was also tired - no, more like drained or exhausted - but sleep, unfortunately, was currently among those bodily needs that had to be ignored. Gin could not doze off, no matter how much he wanted to; there was namely a list of certain rules he had to memorize. Preferably before sunrise.
Against the dull protests of his body, Gin forced his face up from the invitingly soft pillow and returned his attention to the small, black-covered notebook he'd been given. A small candle stood on a silver tray next to his futon, illuminating his small room with a soft light; it was barely enough for someone to read, but Gin was too tired of getting up and fixing the situation. His eyes were already half blind from too much reading, but he could not stop. Not yet, not until he was certain he would remember these first fifteen rules by heart. Not until he was certain Kuchiki Byakuya wouldn�t find another excuse to play with his zanpakutou tomorrow. Because, frankly, Gin wasn�t ready to deal with yet another group of missing fingers in the near future.
Rule number 1: Always obey your master. Never protest, never disagree, never question.
Yeah, sure thing! That would be easy. To remember the rule, that is; not necessarily to follow what it suggested. In fact, Gin would have to make tremendous sacrifices to his own basic principles if he ever hoped to adjust to complying with it. But there was no choice for him, was there? For the next few months, at least, he would have to try and adhere to Byakuya�s every fad and whim. How the heck was he going to do it? Gin was certain it would all end up in a bloodbath; featuring his blood, most likely.
Rule number 2: Never speak before you are spoken to. In case of an emergency, or if you have something of considerable importance to say, ask for permission to talk by kneeling down in front of the person you wish to address, place a hand in front of you and bow.
Hah! As if he would ever want to say anything to Byakuya � or anyone else in that damned household for that matter. If not counted several curse words and a few selected insults, of course.
Rule number 3: Never look people in the eye. Or anywhere close to their face, if it isn't absolutely necessary.
That is, if you're not willing to get your own eyes gauged out.
Rule number 4: Never embarrass your master. Be polished, docile and always respectful, not only towards your master but his family and friends as well. As a general rule, try to please everyone around you.
For the umpteenth time that night, Gin heaved a sigh and then gently began to massage his temples. Reading these rules, he felt more like a caged animal than a human being � or, in this case, a shinigami. A caged, tortured, mistreated animal with a haunted look in his eyes. A wild animal. A creature not fit to be a pet; revolting, poisonous, impossible to domesticate. A waste of everyone's effort, time and life.
He swallowed the blood that had gathered on his tongue from where he'd just recently bit his cheek. It felt uncomfortable. Not only because it was blood he was swallowing, but also because he had yet to get familiar with the feeling of his Adam's apple moving up and down under the new, tight collar around his neck. Yes � a new collar. Not the red one he had been wearing earlier at Soukyoku, but a more exquisite, more deadly one, carrying the engraved platinum emblem of the Kuchiki clan in its centre. It was about one and a half inches wide, made of soft, pure white leather, and there were thin platinum wires threaded inside. Those wires were what made the damn thing so deadly. The collar was namely charged with reiatsu, more specifically Kuchiki Byakuya's reiatsu. It meant, of course, that should Gin once lift a finger against his new master, the collar would automatically start to constrict � and would, consequently, suffocate him to death.
Feeling morose, Gin glared at the small notebook in front of his nose, and it glared right back at him in mocking silence. Ten slow minutes slithered by as he concentrated on reading Byakuya�s neat handwriting; then his head slumped forwards, his face sank into the pillow, his forehead hitting rules number 9 and 10 in the process, and his eyes fluttered closed. He really couldn't help it; he was just so tired. He hadn't slept in nearly forty-eight hours, after all, and even the sleep before that had been sporadic at best. The time he had spent unconscious earlier in the day didn�t count, because that couldn�t be considered as good, normal rest � and what his body needed right now was just that, good and normal rest. Not some weird short-circuits in his brain cells.
No... No... This is bad... Get up...
No matter how sweet the temptation to get some sleep was, he could not give in, even if the demands of his throbbing muscles were becoming harder and harder to resist by the minute. He had to stay awake and read. Study. Learn. Remember.
Pull yourself together, Gin... Open your eyes... Come on, you can do it...
A hand, shaking with exhaustion, reached out and removed the notebook from under his face. However, instead of lifting it up for a pair of bloodshot aquamarine eyes to read, the hand pulled the book close to his warm, heaving chest, against the soft, dark blue fabric of his new nemaki � a gauze lined kimono robe designed specifically for sleepwear. In his mind, Gin still wished to continue studying, but his body was done obeying him. Apparently. And it wasn't like Byakuya could kill him for giving up, either, because he simply wasn�t allowed to.
Gin smirked and curled into a more comfortable position. There wasn�t much left of the candle, anymore � only half an inch or so � and Gin pondered whether he should make the effort of blowing it out. He decided against it when he realized the flame actually cast quite a reassuring sort of flush against his closed eyelids, making the dark night in the small, shadowy room seem a little bit less cold.
Ah, yes - his room. He had been given his own room. He didn�t know exactly what he had been expecting � a jail in the cellar, maybe? � but this was a nice turn of events nonetheless. And it was a nice room, too; spacious and bright (when it wasn�t night-time) and clean. In addition to his simple (but very comfortable) futon, there was a walk-in wardrobe filled with (what he assumed) clothes for him to wear; a massive, sinking western-style armchair with white upholstery next to a neat dressing table in the corner; a desk for studying and a small bookcase on the wall facing the window; a gigantic plant that stood almost a couple of feet taller than he was, and a soft, white, sinking carpet covering half of the polished, wooden floor. There was also a large painting of Chinese bellflowers on the wall that was otherwise left boringly blank and white, right above his bed.
But still, none of this relative extravagance could even compare to the fact that he had also been given his very own bathroom.
Lazily, with one eye only, Gin glanced at the direction of the door leading to this small, grey-and-black-tiled paradise. A real, private bathroom, where no-one could see him when he took a shower or a bath. Where no-one could stare at his wounds, his inflamed sealing tattoos, his deformed looks! After this morning�s atrocities, Gin had honestly cried with relief when he had been allowed to clean himself up alone and in peace.
As if on cue, the green sealing marks on his back burned and he shifted against the sheets in mild discomfort. Quickly, he tried to think about something cheerful, but in vain; it was already too late. He was already falling into the darkness, and he couldn't pull himself up. The unpleasant thoughts he�d tried to avoid all evening finally managed to gnaw their way through his weakly built resistance with their razor sharp teeth - and now surfaced with vengeance, coming to plague him with terrifying intensity, no matter how desperately he tried to push them out of his fragile, unstable mind.
Despairingly, Gin moved his gaze to the flame of the candle and it flared, burning his retinas, making him see only golden white for a while. He felt bile rising in his throat, tasting of metal and blood, and he felt the need to spit it out, spit everything out � but he resisted. He kept gulping everything down, even though it felt disgusting, because if he started vomiting now, he would never be able to stop. Shakily, he turned sides and pulled his knees up to his chin. Was it normal to feel nauseous still several hours afterwards?
"So this is the man you are considering to take as your slave... Byakuya."
The echo of that voice in his mind made his stomach clench again and again.
The room - or, rather, the hall � had been bright with sunlight, spacious and beautiful. Gin had entered it after Byakuya, having been escorted there by two male servants who had proceeded to chain him on the floor in the middle of the room from his ankles and wrists. There had been several people � most of them old rather than young � kneeling in their costly silk kimonos on the soft cushions lining the walls, all of them silent as statues as they had stared down at the blond-haired ex-captain with hardly concealed disdain. Gin had noticed not all of the family members were shinigami, but that didn�t signify; their hatred and disgust had still been palpable enough to rival the bursts of angry reiatsu from those who were, or had once been. Gin had been completely drained of all energy in a matter of mere seconds.
"You are aware, of course, that acquiring a slave is an action that brings forth a need of great responsibility."
Gin had wanted to squirm; the voice had made him feel like there were suddenly thousands of beetles crawling all over his skin. And underneath it, as well.
"I am aware of that, Grandfather Ginrei."
Byakuya's voice had been just as cold and devoid of feeling as usually; it didn't seem like the room�s menacing aura had been getting to him at all. And, Gin could tell from a professional�s point of view, that aura had been very menacing. In fact, the whole damned meeting had probably been... no, it had definitely been themost oppressive get-together Gin had ever in his life � both current and past � been forced to attend. That was even counting the ones held by Yamamoto-chotaichou when the old geezer had been hung over, heated and sexually frustrated at the same time.
�He is not even fit for the position. He is too proud.�
�Yes. But we mustn�t forget he is here of his own free will.�
�No doubt he has his own wicked reasons for agreeing to this farce. Dare I even ask why you chose to participate in it.�
�I, too, have my own reasons; although they are more private than wicked, sir.�
Confused, and not just a little overwhelmed, Gin had marveled at the formal manner of speech between the family members. Was it normal? Gin wasn't sure, because he'd never had a family of his own, but he was pretty sure it wasn't normal. Even in Hueco Mundo, between Aizen-sama and the Espada, the speech hadn't been so formal � and that speech had even been all business. So what the fuck was this? What kind of a family meeting was this?
Of course, Gin had already known from prior experiences that Byakuya was a frigid bastard, just like he had known Rukia-chan was a bit retiring and gloomy; but that the entire Kuchiki family could be so freaking callous, so obstinate, so inhumanly cold? There seemed to be a draconian order in the house, and it wasn�t because of Kuchiki Byakuya. In fact, Gin no longer wondered how the dark-haired man had turned into an ice-block from the fiery, rowdy kid he once had been: it was the family�s fault. The grandparents, the numerous uncles and aunts and cousins � all of them mostly faceless to Gin who wasn't supposed to even glance at their general direction � made even Byakuya's temper appear warm and gentle, if possible. There was no love lost in this family.
�I sincerely hope this isn�t yet another burst of ill-placed sense of rightfulness and responsibility like it was with Rukia-chan a few decades back.�
�Such fears are completely unfounded, Sir. I have never had � nor will I ever have � the intention of adopting him as my brother.�
�That is not what I meant. I just merely wanted to point out that there should be some limits to your generous goodwill. This is not a charity institute, but a noble home. And Ichimaru Gin is, for all purposes, a condemned criminal.�
�There is nothing even remotely charitable in my actions, I can assure you. I have actual use for him.�
Gin had briefly wondered what use would a captain like Kuchiki Byakuya have for him, but had eventually decided he was better off not knowing.
"So you are quite determined to see what comes out of this arrangement?"
"Yes, I am.�
"And what if you don�t want to keep him, after all?�
�He has these following three months to make a good impression on me. What comes after that depends solely on him.�
�While it is a great responsibility to take care of a slave, it is an even greater one to send one to its death."
"I would never make such a decision without careful and profound consideration.�
Several other words in the similar, cold manner had been exchanged in the course of the meeting, but Gin could not remember them now. His memory was a bit fleeting like that. But, for the first time, he had to admit he was rather grateful for it, instead of being remorseful like usually. Of course, he would have been even more grateful if his memory had chosen to forget the moments after said conversation. Even now, over seven hours later, Gin couldn't think back without his heart painfully constricting in his chest. Kuchiki Ginrei had namely interrogated not only his grandson about this rather unconventional situation, but Gin as well. And with Gin, this former Captain and head of the family had not been callously polite, but ruthless and malevolent instead.
To sum it up, Gin hadn't been able do anything to defend himself at that meeting. On his knees, shackled onto the floor, he had found himself answering the council's questions with alarmingly raw honesty, entirely against his will. It was as if he'd been given some sort of truth serum or something, which was, of course, impossible. Or was it? Somehow, Gin didn�t think it was so entirely impossible anymore. Nevertheless, he had been asked several questions to which he'd not dared to answer as cockily as he would have wanted (especially since the majority of them were digging deep into the dark recesses of his private life) and he had been also brutally examined. Physically. He'd been forced to take off all his clothing and be medically examined by someone he didn't even recognize. Not even the long, dark shadows that licked the walls of the insanely large meeting hall had been able to hide Gin's blushing cheeks and rolling tears as he'd listened to the cruel, demeaning comments about his outer appearance � or, rather, the complete lack of it.
Gin still hated himself for having been so pathetic, so weak in front of the council; he had thought he had managed to push the feelings of inferiority out of his mind already decades ago. But he had been wrong. He had been so very, very wrong. No matter how much he had tried to calm himself down as the cruel words rained upon him�
�it had still hurt so much.
Yes, he was anorectic and pale. Yes, he was bilious and plain. Yes, he knew there was something wrong with his eyes � a fault in his nervous system? What kind of a fault? Could it be treated? No? Pathetic. Yes, he looked disgusting; his hair was lifeless and limp and overgrown, his mouth too wide, his nose too sharp, his knees too bony, and his fingers � all remaining six of them � were too long and too thin. His expressions were plain ugly. Yes, he lacked bodily hair pretty much everywhere except his head � he was a freak. Yes, he had bruises and scars � both fresh ones and fading � all over his too-thin form; clearly he couldn�t behave at all if he needed to be punished so severely and so often. Yes, there was something totally bizarre and unhealthy about the color of his skin; no-one could be naturally so pale; was he sick? Was it something infectious, perhaps? And what about his facial features � they were entirely too angular. Abnormal. Not to mention his face was also too thin, even gaunt. Hell, his entire being was too angular and too thin and too abnormal; he was completely unappealing. He looked like a fox, or some other worthless wild animal; anything, that is, but a normal human being.
Gin gasped for air - his chest felt so heavy right now, and the collar around his neck felt like a real halter. No-one had dared to voice those kinds of opinions when he�d still been a Captain of Gotei 13; no-one had dared to. No-one had been that foolish. But Gin knew, even though they hadn�t voiced them, those mocking thoughts had still been there. They could be seen in the depths of their guarded eyes whenever Ichimaru Gin had come near. And during the countless decades, Gin had silently gotten used to dealing with them. He�d gotten used to being wordlessly scoffed at. So what made it different this time? Why was it so upsetting this time? Why couldn�t he keep his emotions, let alone his tears, in control this time? Were those words, now finally spoken out loud, so much more hurtful than the silent stares and glares from before? Hell, he was supposed be immune against these insults already, and yet...
He wasn�t.
No-one with a human soul inside of their hearts could ever be.
Forehead damp with cold sweat, Gin balled his right hand into a fist so hard he felt his overgrown nails digging into the skin of his palm, leaving red crescents. The soft pillow beneath his cheek swallowed his tears as he was once again forced to face what he truly was: a low-class mongrel from Rukongai�s dirtiest streets, nothing more. He had once been powerful, but no more. He had once even been grudgingly admired, at least by some � but no-one admired him now. He had lost his all, even his pride. Not one single ounce was left of that pride that had been thus far the protecting wall between his own world and the reality. He had lost it when that man, the physician, the faceless and nameless one who had so harshly examined him, had stuffed his fingers in Gin�s ass in the course of the long process. It had been just to humiliate him, because Gin seriously doubted there could be any medical reason for such an action.
And humiliated Gin had been. Never in his life had he been more profoundly embarrassed. And never in his life had he liked Kuchiki Byakuya more than when the captain had silently wrapped the rags of what was left of his clothes around his trembling body, shielding him from further insults and accusations, and escorted him away.
They had broken him. They had completely broken him.
Gin knew that now.
But how could you possibly break something that wasn't even whole to start with?
Not able to hold in his supper any longer, Gin dazedly scrambled up from his bed and rushed into the bathroom. Falling onto his bony knees, weak and dizzy, he bent over the toilet seat and retched. He still felt those fingers inside his most private place� twisting� probing� teasing� He retched again. And again. And then, when there was nothing left to come out, he just slid on his back and lay on the cold floor tiles, staring at the high ceiling with unseeing eyes.
�Shit��
His heart was beating so fast it hurt. His hands were trembling, and his lower back was hurting again. But it was calm. It was so silent and calm. Dark. Warm. Cold. Everything. There was a gentle scent of lavender soap floating in the air, and Gin realized his own skin faintly scented the same. He had washed away the filth, and now he was clean; at least as clean as he could ever become.
�Ichimaru Gin is not a docile pet you can play with, Byakuya. I warn you; he will seriously complicate your life.�
Gin brought his hands to his new collar and touched the platinum Kuchiki emblem. There had been amusement laced in Byakuya's voice when he'd replied his grandfater; and somehow, right now� That memory made Gin smile, even just a little, even if his eyes were still shedding silent tears.
�Yes, Grandfather. I expect that he will.�
--
TBC
A/N: This story will be rather long, because I don�t like to rush it. I don�t see Byakuya and Gin falling in love with each other overnight, anyway, so� Please try to bear with me. And I promise, these chapters will turn increasingly more cheerful in the future. Thanks for reading! �Lances
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Chained to an Escapist