When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, what happens? In a battle between Ise Nanao and Kuchiki Byakuya, who wins?
This is partially inspired by Feilyn's 'The Stage' which I lack the vocabulary to describe appropriately, so I'll settle for 'jaw-droppingly awesome'. However this is more on the subject of Rangiku friendship with Nanao than her relationship with Byakuya, though that naturally plays an important part.
I own nothing - this is based off Kubo Tite's masterly work.
"It doesn't matter." A bitter smile. "Isn't that the way it's meant to go, Kuchiki-taicho? Your first love is always supposed to be the worst. These things aren't made to last."
I half expected him to follow.
He didn't.
'The Stage'
'I am Matsumoto Rangiku and I do not cry. I am Masumoto Rangiku and I do not cry...'
Several minutes back her reminder to herself had become a mantra. The only thing stopping her from bursting into tears in front of the entirety of Seireitei.
Damn Byakuya and his pride.
'Damn me and my pride.'
She walked with her shoulders thrown back, head held high - the very image of a true shinigami fuktaichō, if not for the fact that her eyes focused on the distant horizon so none could see the encroaching redness in her eyes.
She stopped suddenly, realising her feet had been instinctively guiding her back in the direction of the 10th Division. She understood why, since whenever she had had a bad day in the past, teasing her cute little taichō had always lifted her spirits – or at least distracting her from the instinct to scream and break something. Or someone, as she was now tempted to do.
But as she stood outside the 9th, listening to Shūhei lead his division through their drills, she realised that this time it was something not even Tōshirō could help with. As unintentionally sweet and intelligent as her taichō was, sometimes he just didn't get it. Despite the fact that he was back to his usual self, she couldn't go and drop all of her problems on top of him. Byakuya seeming to be the cause of all her problems (and neither of them had any idea how to talk to emotional women).
Her mind ran over the alternatives. Byakuya (that stupid, arrogant, gorgeous bastard) was naturally out, as was Tōshirō; the boys of the 11th (apart from Yumichika) were useless with anything that didn't consist of blades or fists, so that only left her last resort. Sake. Most others would have scolded her for turning to alcohol as a coping method, but it was one that had always seemed to work before. She could go and get wasted in a way she hadn't since the end of war, pass out, and wake up to Tōshirō shouting at her, which would help her get back some sense of normality, but Nanao would...
That was it. Turning on her heel, away from the 10th, she used shunpo to go back the way she had come.
Ise Nanao considered herself to be an extremely practical, calm person, never at a loss for an explanation or a swift retaliatory remark. She sat in a dignified seiza on the engawa outside her office, savouring the sunshine whilst pointedly ignoring her captain-lover's distant whining about the cruelty of his 'lovely Nanao-chan'.
She shuffled meticulously through the papers, the slight frown that was a semi-permanent fixture on her face deepening at the sight of reports that dated back to the Muromachi era. Generally the squad did their paperwork on time, since the fact that their fukutaichō could terrify the psychotic Kurotsuchi-taichō just by removing her glasses was spoken about with equal amounts of pride and fear by the division. But Kyōraku was another matter.
Paying no attention to the fusuma outside slamming open, she rose with her ever-present grace to her feet, honing in on her lover's reiatsu while a familiar lecture unfurled itself in her mind.
"Shunsui, get in here" she snapped, dispensing with work formalities and turning towards the new presence that had made itself known.
"Rangiku you really shouldn't..." It was a series of firsts for Nanao, all in succession. The first time she had left a sentence incomplete, the first time she had experienced the dizzying feeling of complete and utter confusion. The first time she had been struck dumb by Matsumoto Rangiku's appearance.
Ever sunny, ever gorgeous Rangiku was standing in the doorway, clothes rumpled, perfect hair unkempt, breathing hard and Heaven above was she crying? Had she seen the former things alone she would have assumed that Rangiku had been enjoying herself recently, but grey eyes that usually twinkled with mirth were empty and glassed over with hurt, tears that only pride was holding back threatening to crack the brittleness of the blank mask she was wearing.
Baffled, mute Nanao took stock of the situation in a heartbeat, her natural calm, all-encompassing manner weighing up her choices and the consequences even more swiftly. Ise Nanao took the only option a best friend could.
She opened her arms.