Chapter 53: Self-Sacrificial

Makoto Senju's words seemed to hit a nerve, exposing some unspoken truth. Gin Ichimaru immediately fell silent, his expression turning cold as he replied.

"Just ordinary friends, that's all."

"Is that so?"

Makoto gestured to Kujo Taimei to leave the makeshift medical room. Turning his attention to the unconscious Rangiku Matsumoto lying on the bed, he began examining her with practiced precision, casually remarking.

"Generally speaking, I scoff at the notion of romance among youngsters. Early love does little beyond triggering a surge of hormones, bringing fleeting joy without any real benefit. While I lack personal experience in such matters, I oppose behaviors that are detrimental to both mental and physical well-being—at least, theoretically."

Gin watched as green light emanated from Makoto's hands. His serious and focused expression was a stark contrast to his usual self. Gin's composure faltered, and he stammered in protest.

"W-what love? There's no such thing!"

"Is that so?" Makoto continued conversationally, his tone light yet deliberate. "In that case, let me give you some advice. You're sacrificing yourself to save this little girl, but in the future, there's no guarantee you'll end up together. Have you really considered the consequences of your actions?"

Makoto spoke as though making small talk while meticulously conducting his examination. Gin's response was calm, his tone firm.

"That doesn't matter. I just want to repay her kindness, that's all."

Makoto's glasses reflected a faint green glow as he asked nonchalantly.

"Is that so? In that case, you wouldn't be upset if, in the future, this girl—carrying fragments of your soul—were to be with someone else, bearing his child, would you?"

Gin's face froze. His grip on his Zanpakuto tightened to the point where his knuckles turned white. The composure he had maintained was now teetering on the brink of collapse, and the urge to release his sword's power and strike down this infuriating man surged within him.

No, scratch that—he wanted to obliterate him completely!

Gin's thoughts spiraled as he stared at Makoto, whose gentle exterior hid a truly malicious nature. What infuriated Gin the most was how Makoto's words struck a deeper nerve than he ever expected. His usual half-lidded eyes were wide open, filled with humiliation and anger as if he had never suffered such an insult before.

Makoto, seemingly oblivious, adjusted his glasses, the green light reflecting off them as he continued.

"Oh, by the way, speaking seriously—since fragments of your soul reside in this girl, if she ends up with someone else, then technically, wouldn't you also be indirectly—well, you get the idea. Still unconcerned?"

*(TL/N - D*mnnn what the??? Mc sure likes trolling)

Gin's thoughts raced, his frustration bubbling over.

Would I care? Do you really think I wouldn't care...?!

The only thing holding Gin back from outright attacking Makoto was the knowledge that Makoto had successfully treated others in the Rukongai who suffered from soul fragmentation. He knew this man had the skill to heal Rangiku, and that fact alone kept Gin's rage in check.

Makoto, observing Gin's increasingly distressed expression from the corner of his eye, suddenly shifted his tone. It became softer, almost paternal.

"Listen, kid. You've got a severe self-sacrificial complex. If you don't want that hypothetical future to come to pass, you'd better start reevaluating your choices."

Makoto's words hung in the air, and Gin clenched his jaw, knowing he had no rebuttal.

Gin Ichimaru's expression froze, his face rapidly shifting between shades of green and white.

Yet, beneath the harsh and teasing words, he began to sense a faint warmth—genuine concern buried under Senju Makoto's harsh tone.

"Thank you."

After a long pause, Gin finally managed to squeeze out these two words with some difficulty.

"No need to overthink it," Makoto replied softly. "I'm merely doing my duty as a healer."

Makoto adjusted his glasses, the green glow reflecting off their lenses as he asked, "One final confirmation, Gin Ichimaru. Are you certain you want to proceed with the 'soul transplant'—transferring a fragment of your own soul into Matsumoto Rangiku to treat her soul deficiency?"

Gin, who had nearly lost his composure under Makoto's earlier taunts, took several deep breaths before looking at Rangiku lying beside him. His gaze slowly firmed, and he nodded. "Yes, I'm certain."

Makoto's voice took on a more serious tone. "You should know this: since your Zanpakuto has already awakened, performing the soul transplant may partially impair its abilities. It could even affect your potential as a Shinigami in the future. Are you okay with that?"

Gin didn't hesitate. "That doesn't matter at all."

Makoto stepped to Gin's side, his expression solemn. "Very well, then… Let's begin."

Gin nodded but suddenly seemed to recall something. "Wait—"

Makoto paused mid-action and raised an eyebrow. "Second thoughts?"

Gin's gaze remained fixed on Rangiku as he asked, "The part of my soul being transplanted—will it affect Rangiku? If so, I'd like you to choose fragments that carry 'happiness,' 'joy,' and 'contentment.' Please, I want her to have only the best emotions."

For a moment, Makoto was stunned, feeling as though this kid had stuffed him with an overwhelming dose of sentimentality that he was now forced to digest.

This self-sacrificial attitude—was it worsening?

Makoto let out a heavy sigh and snapped, "Oh, are you teaching me how to do my job now? Should I lie down, and you take over the treatment?"

Gin immediately fell silent, intimidated, and simply allowed Makoto's glowing green hands to rest against his frail frame.

"Argh!"

The next moment, Gin cried out involuntarily as he felt his soul being divided. Clenching his teeth, he suppressed his voice, not wanting to distract Makoto.

Pain.

Indescribable pain, a sensation that cut straight to the essence of his being.

Within seconds, Gin's consciousness began to waver, the agony pushing him to the brink of blacking out. Only then did he understand why Makoto had insisted on sedating patients before performing a soul transplant.

But Gin refused to yield. He held on fiercely, forcing himself to remain conscious.

He had to see it through. He had to ensure Rangiku's recovery with his own eyes.

Rangiku…

Her name echoed in his mind, her image surfacing amid the unbearable pain—a warm smile and the memory of her handing out a dried persimmon to him.

Rangiku… no matter what, I will protect you. I will see you healed.

In the midst of the torment, as though his very soul was being sliced apart repeatedly, Gin clung to the thought of her. It was the last thread anchoring his fragile awareness.

Rangiku… for you, I would endure anything.

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