Characters: Shunsui, Nanao
Summary: It's telling what names she calls when sleeping.
Pairings: slight Shunsui x Nanao, past Shunsui x Lisa
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Turn Back the Pendulum arc
Timeline: Pre-manga
Author's Note: Just a sweet, only slightly romantic oneshot. And of course, with memory of Lisa thrown into the mix just for fun.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Unohana's given her a strong draught for her flu and it will put her out, the wise captain tells Shunsui, for eighteen hours at least.
The sun's starting to go down, and Nanao's head lolls limply; the draught's affected her almost immediately. White smells echo off of the walls of the hospital and Unohana nods when Shunsui asks if he can take her home. Most would give him suspicious glances but Unohana knows better and knows Shunsui well enough to know that he won't try to take advantage of Nanao while unconscious.
Shunpou makes it fast and easy; Nanao is but a slight weight in his arms.
Of course, she locks the door to her room, and Shunsui has no idea where Nanao keeps her key. He supposes he could check her shihakusho, but is reluctant to go rifling around in Nanao's clothes while she's still wearing them.
There's a difference between Nanao and Lisa. Lisa was all forward intention; she could be touched without her taking mortal offense to it, and Lisa was somehow far-off as a queen yet down to earth and up-close and personal. She could be touched; welcomed it, even. She wanted to know that the people around her were real and welcomed physical contact as a result. She had no boundaries, no filters.
Nanao is different. Nanao is restrained, is withdrawn, is cooped up within the confines of her own skin. No one can touch her, is allowed to touch her. Especially not Shunsui. She is the moon, white, shining, unreachable, untouchable.
The fire's burning low in the grate in Shunsui's office; he stokes it with the poker after laying Nanao down on the couch. There's nowhere else to put her, since she dutifully locks the door to her office, too.
Shunsui crouches by the fire, and when a flash of light meets his eyes, he turns around.
Burnished firelight glimmers off of Nanao's glasses. The girl's head is slumped against the arm of the couch, one arm hanging flaccidly off the side.
It's going to get uncomfortable for her, Shunsui notes, if those glasses are left on, leaving red marks against otherwise pale, unblemished skin.
As he moves to gingerly remove them, Nanao shifts on the couch, shoulders quaking, face furrowing. She sighs softly, and Shunsui catches one word on her slack lips.
It sounds like "Yadomaru-fuku…taicho".
God only knows what she dreams to go along with that word.
Shunsui frowns. There's no humor in his demeanor, only weariness now and sadness too. So the old wound lies unclosed.
Nanao's face looks different in sleep, without glasses. Softer, more childlike. Shunsui notices the blue smudges on her eyelids, the telltale signs of sleepless nights, and the curve of her jaw line, softened with no speech in her mouth. "Sleep well, Nanao-chan," he sighs, brushing a hand across her hairline. Black hair is soft and fine as ebony silk threads. He drapes his flowered haori over her. "Sleep well."
Shunsui could tell Nanao he misses her too, but he knows that Nanao can't hear a thing.
Sake and plum wine can't provide oblivion like that.