Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, because I'm not Kubo-sensei. The bleach I own keeps my whites white.
Kotetsu Isane stared up at the building in front of her and tried not to be intimidated. It wasn't the building itself – the 8/13 Dance Studio was housed in an innocuous construction of concrete and glass, its only distinguishing feature the fact that it was wider than most – Tokyo was built on long, skinny lines. No, it was what the building contained that held her fast to the sidewalk. "It's for Kiyone, Isane," she scolded herself.
She didn't know why she was so nervous to go inside. It wasn't as though Unohana-sensei was intimidating – far from it. It was Unohana-sensei who suggested that she come here to talk about enrolling Kiyone in ballroom dance classes. But something about the conversation itself did not bode well. Her mentor had been looking at her rather strangely in the last few weeks, as though she had taken a special interest in her student.
Not that Isane minded. Unohana Retsu was one of the preeminent surgeons in the country. Her accomplishments in Africa and Japan were praised far and wide. Isane wanted to be exactly like her, if she thought such a thing was possible. So the fact that she had taken interest in her, a sixth-year medical student, was astonishing. But sometimes her regard was a little unsettling. As though Unohana-sensei had plans that she wasn't ready for.
Before she lost her nerve, she pushed through the front doors and found herself in a small, empty lobby. A staircase led up to the second floor, presumably where the smaller studio rooms were. That meant the massive doors in front of her were the doors to the ballroom. The office that Unohana-sensei shared with her husband was down the hall to her right, towards the women's locker room.
Isane squared her shoulders, disgusted at her hesitation, and headed for the right-
-when a sound from the ballroom caught her attention. It was a distant, rhythmic pounding, as though someone was dancing. Of course it's someone dancing, it's a dance studio Isane! she scolded herself as she moved forward, her interest piqued. The huge doors to the ballroom were slightly open, and she peered through.
Her mouth went dry.
A lone man occupied that enormous room, spinning, leaping, and gliding, his feet skimming the floor as though he could fly up into the air at any moment. All he wore was a pair of black sweatpants, a matching black choker and armband, and dance shoes. The play of light off his skin, dewy with sweat, mesmerized her. The muscles of his arms, his back, and his chest were perfectly delineated, curving and bunching as he danced. How long she watched, she couldn't say. The performance was arresting, and the man-
She couldn't take her eyes off him, and when he moved out of view, she stepped into the ballroom without even thinking.
"Finally decided to come in, have you?" he drawled, smirking when she flushed. He walked towards her, wiping the sweat from his face. His hair stood up in short, black spikes – but that's not what held Isane's attention. No, it was his eyes, piercing and black as they peered into hers. She wondered if it was a special ability of his, to hold people frozen with a look – or if it was just her.
"Cat got your tongue?" He looked at her curiously, and she was struck by how much character his face had. It was a very attractive face, despite the three parallel scars running down its right side. He had two tattoos – the number 69 on his left cheek, and a whitish-blue stripe that slashed across the left side of his face, crossing his nose.
But his eyes – the way they bored into hers made the world stop around her. Frankly, it was quite frightening. "Are you here to dance?" he asked, a little impatient with her silence.
Dance? The word penetrated her mind. Yes, she'd come here because of something to do with dance, hadn't she? But for the life of her, she couldn't remember exactly why. Flustered, she nodded.
"Well then. Come here." Before she could protest, he pulled her into his arms, frowning as he corrected her posture and hold. "Rumba. Go."
He moved forward – and stepped on her toe.
"Ow!" Isane yelped.
"You can't even do a basic?" the man asked incredulously.
"I-I'm not here for me," she stammered. "It's-my sister, she's the one who dances. I'm looking for-"
"Ah, there you are, Isane-chan." Unohana-sensei stood in the doorway. Standing next to her was a tall, extraordinarily handsome man with a poetic face and long brown hair tied in a ponytail. His outfit was strange, all black with a pink mantle about his shoulders.
"Unohana-sensei!" Isane exclaimed, relieved.
"Well, this is better than I expected, Retsu-chan," the brown-haired man said cheerfully, his eyes twinkling. "They've already started dancing!"
Isane's eyes darted between the two of them, confused, while her partner snorted.
"Allow me to explain." Unohana glided into the room. "Kotetsu Isane, this is Hisagi Shuuhei. You will be dancing together."
Hisagi's eyebrows shot to his forehead. "Her?" he demanded. "She can't even do a basic!"
"D-dance?" Isane stammered. "But, Unohana-sensei, I'm here for Kiyone-"
The older woman waved a dismissive hand, her grey eyes glimmering with mirth. "Kiyone-chan will be taken care of, Isane-chan. You do not need to worry, for I will train her myself. But why should I content myself with one talented sister when I can have two?"
"Indeed," the pony tailed man boomed, coming up beside Unohana-sensei. "Shuu-kun, what do you say to a pro-am partnership?"
He folded his arms. "She's not an amateur, she's a beginner. Do you truly expect me to waste my time on a beginner-" Isane stiffened. He didn't need to point that out and there was no need for him to be so rude!
"And what have the past two years been, Shuu-kun?" His voice was genial, but there was a note of disapproval in his voice that made the younger man flush with shame. "You haven't had a partner, you've been borrowing Soi Fong and Ran-chan, and that cannot happen anymore."
"But he's right!" Isane blurted, hating to have to agree. "I can't dance-"
"But you will have to learn," Unohana-sensei said firmly. "I've talked with the fundraising committee at the hospital, and they've agreed to put you in charge of the children's entertainment for the charity ball."
Isane goggled. Tokyo General Hospital's annual charity event was one of the events of the summer. Celebrities and patrons of the hospital gathered for one glitzy night to raise money for whatever part of the hospital that needed it the most. The celebrity guests provided entertainment for the event, but it was the performance by the children who lived in the hospital's ward that was the most anticipated. She was just a sixth-year student – why was she in charge of that?
"The theme is prom," Unohana-sensei continued, seemingly oblivious to enormity of the situation. "I would like you and Shuuhei-kun to show the children the basics of ballroom so that they may put on a dance." She studied Isane, who was rapidly turning white. "And in order to teach, you will have to learn, won't you, Isane-chan?"
"It works perfectly for the pro-am partnership!" the brown-haired man chirped. "Retsu-chan and I will be there to help when we can, of course."
"And why," Hisagi Shuuhei managed, his voice perfectly controlled. "Couldn't anyone else do this?"
"Why, everyone else is far too busy, between training, teaching, and preparing for the show! I know you're busy too, Shuu-kun, but you are one of the only dancers without a permanent partner."
"Zaraki-"
"-has Yachiru to take care of."
"Ikkaku-"
"-is no longer partner-less." Catching Isane's astonished eye, he smiled. "My wits have gone begging. Allow me to introduce myself – I am Kyouraku Shunsui, one of the owners of this fine studio."
"Charmed," she managed.
"Of course you are." He winked. "Now, Retsu-chan and I must go, but I suggest that you get started right away, right Shuu-kun?"
Isane thought she heard his jaw grinding. "Of course, Kyouraku-sensei."
Outside the ballroom, Unohana turned to her longtime friend. "We did the right thing, didn't we?"
Shunsui grinned. "Of course we did, Retsu-chan. I saw what you meant – your lovely student is in need of confidence, and our jaded Shuu-kun needs a partner. All the better if she's such a breath of fresh air." He sighed. "He's been burned by the sport – too many of the wrong partners will do that to a person. Shuu-kun's a good person, and I think your student is perfect for him…in more ways than one."
She shook her head, smiling. "You're a matchmaking old biddy, Shunsui-san."
"But of course!" Tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, the two strolled off, pleased that their plan was in motion.
Inside the ballroom, Isane and Shuuhei were staring at each other. Or rather, Shuuhei was glaring in her general direction while she stared at the floor.
"Well," he said finally. "It appears we're well and truly stuck with each other, so we might as well do what we're told. But let me tell you now that I'm a hard taskmaster, Kotetsu-san. I won't be easy on you, so don't expect to coast through this easily."
Isane's head shot up, forgetting for a brief moment that he intimidated her. "I don't coast through any task I'm given, Hisagi-san." Her voice was sharp and disapproving. "I promise you that."
He smirked, but there was respect in his black eyes. "As long as we understand each other. Let's start, then." He looked at her from head to foot, pleased that she was dressed comfortably. Isane turned red, her bravado flying out the window.
"First thing," he said. "Is body technique. The neck is long." Warm hands settled on the back of her neck, pulling her head up. "Shoulders down." The hands slid to her shoulders, pushing down gently. "Chest is tall and out, abs pulled up." One hand went to her back to push forward as another slid over her stomach, pulling it in and up.
Isane squeaked, turning redder.
"Sorry." His voice was liquid gold against her ear, and he didn't sound sorry at all. "I know it's intimate, but you have to get used to it." He smiled slightly, amused at her reaction. Most women in ballroom didn't blink twice about hand placement. He'd forgotten what it was like to be new to it all. "Hips square. For now, legs parallel and toes relaxed." He went over the rest of the corrections. "You have good posture, Kotetsu-san, are you sure you haven't done this before?"
"I-I t-took a year of ballet. A long time ago." Ooooh, she hated how timid she sounded.
"I see." Finally, he stood in front of her. "We'll start with the rumba." Again, he put them into the first position. "The count is one-two-three-four, all right? Now, follow me." As he stepped forward, he began to count. "One, hold two, three, four. This is the basic." He pushed his hand against hers. "Make your arms strong. Push back against me, and put some tension in them." Isane complied.
After a few basics, he nodded. "Now, we'll turn. The count is one, two, turn three, four."
Isane, brow furrowed in concentration, tried to follow, but her arm locked and she stopped underneath his arm.
"Look here," he said, pointing up at his eyes. "Use my eyes as a spot when you turn. I'll give you the signal." She turned again – and ended up so close that they smacked foreheads. "Again," he sighed as she clutched her head, stammering out apologies.
The second turn was smooth and perfect, and he built on from there. Basic, turn, lunge – on it went. He was not the most sympathetic of partners – yes, he was patient, but mistakes were bluntly pointed out, and moves drilled into her until there was no way she could possibly do them wrong. But somehow, it worked.
She practiced with him three times a week for two hours at a time, learning the basics of all Standard and Latin dances. Then, on the weekends they went to the hospital to teach the children.
Isane was astonished at how different he was with them. Every aspect of jaded bitterness melted away, revealing a charismatic, kind, and patient man. The fact that he hid that persona intrigued her. She was beginning to develop a crush, much to her embarrassment. She'd never been good at hiding her feelings, and if he somehow found out she was sure the earth would open up and swallow her whole.
When it came time for the children to choose their dance, they surprised everyone by picking the fiery and passionate paso doble – because it looked like the most fun.
"Like all dances, the paso doble tells a story," Shuuhei told her in the studio. "I am the bullfighter. You are either the cape or the bull. If you are the bull, you fight me. You challenge me. If you are the cape, you follow my every move as an extension of me, light and flowing. It involves a lot of exaggerated swaying.
"It's a strong, powerful dance. The moves are sharp and crisp, but fluid at the same time. There's a delicate balance in dancing the paso doble. There's no hip action. Our foundation is the rhythm." He took her hand and placed it over his heart. "It always comes from here. Can you feel it?"
Isane was too busy feeling dizzy to feel the rhythm, unless it was the one roaring in her ears. Her hand was on bare skin, and he was so, so warm…she was too absorbed in him to feel embarrassed. She nodded.
"Good. Now, count. One, two, three, four." Still holding her hand to his chest, he moved forward. "Appel, two, three, four. Now come forward. Appel, forward, seven, eight." They went through chasses, banderillas, attacks, and huits. And all the while, he drilled the story into her head. "Think past the bullfighter and the cape now. We're also a man and a woman. You love me, but you hate me. Love me, hate me. Show me that."
She gulped. The paso doble was already hard in and of itself and he wanted her to add more emotion? Latin was extremely difficult for her, yet that was what Shuuhei excelled at.
Her hesitation showed in her moves and Shuuhei immediately stopped the movement, shaking his head. "There can be no hesitation in this dance, Kotetsu-san. Every step must be strong, every emotion must be strong." He stared at her, eyes dark and piercing. "I don't care if you're lying, but just give me that emotion."
"But I don't hate you…how can I pretend that?"
He suddenly grinned at her, making her heart do wild flip-flops in her chest. "I'm sure you hated me just a little at the beginning, right? I've been a jerk, I admit it."
"No…" Isane fibbed, trailing off as he raised an eyebrow at her. "All right, fine. I wasn't quite thrilled to dance with you. You seemed very much against the idea of dancing with me."
Shuuhei winced, running a hand through his hair. "Did I? I'm sorry, it wasn't you, Kotetsu-san. I've had bad partners in the past. Training someone for a pro-am partnership is also difficult – much more difficult than teaching a beginning class."
"I understand," she said slowly. "You're a professional, so it must be frustrating-"
"No, it's not." He was still smiling at her, and it was unnerving. He never smiled at her. "It's fun. I've forgotten how it is, you see, to be new to ballroom. The joy of each new step and the triumph when you learn and master a routine…" He shrugged. "It's nice to see you discover that."
"Ah." What could she say? Now she really couldn't hate him. Each day he gave her new reasons to like him, which didn't bode well for her emotional wellbeing. Her crush could grow, she thought in dismay. She could actually fall for him. It was entirely possible.
Her inner monologue was interrupted when he pulled her into position once more. "I'm still going to be hard on you, Kotetsu-san-"
"Isane," she interrupted.
He understood immediately. "All right. Call me Shuuhei, then." For the first time, he really looked at his partner. She really was quite lovely, a corner of his mind observed. She was tall, barely an inch shorter than him, with long limbs that reminded him of a fawn, graceful yet still awkward. She had a doe's eyes, big and sad, the rich gold color of fine whiskey. The setting sun glinted off the beads that hung in the two braids on the right side of her face, diamonds on the snowy backdrop of her hair.
He blinked. "Let's move on to the flamenco steps, shall we?"
Isane stared, horrified, at the outfit on the mannequin. "You're joking," she croaked.
"Now Isane, don't protest," Unohana said, concealing her laughter. "This gown was specially designed for you, and now we're going to fit it."
"But…there are two pieces! My, my stomach-"
"Will look fine," the dark-haired woman said firmly, pushing her protesting student into the dressing room. "Don't you think so, Kiyone-chan?"
Isane's younger sister was perusing the scandalously short Latin costumes. She looked up, grinning as the seamstress took the dress from the mannequin to the dressing room. Her blonde hair was cut in a short, pixie style that accented her elfin face. "Onee-san looks great in scrubs. I've been dying for her to show off her body!"
"Traitor!" Isane cried, her voice slightly muffled.
A few minutes later Isane emerged, her platinum hair in a disarray and her face crimson. Her hands were crossed protectively over her stomach.
"Now, now, none of this," Unohana scolded, turning her to face the mirror. "Arms out, and let me see." She gently guided her arms out to the side. "Lovely. Yuri-san, you never fail to please." The seamstress preened.
The top was black, heavily embroidered with silver and bustier-cut. The neckline was off-the shoulder, the sleeves long and snug with fabric trailing from the wrists. The skirt was floor-length, also black and embroidered with silver, with a few layers of ruffles at the bottom. It hung low on the hips and a slit went up to mid-thigh on her right leg.
"Onee-san, you're hot!" Kiyone exclaimed with glee.
"I am not going out in public like this," Isane grumbled as the seamstress began tucking, pinning, and measuring, dictating to an assistant who hovered nearby.
The door to the shop opened, and the sounds of men joking filled the air. Isane peered over her shoulder and turned redder, if possible. There was Hisagi Shuuhei, accompanied by Abarai Renji, Ayasegawa Yumichika, and Madarame Ikkaku. She didn't notice how her younger sister also stiffened at the sight of the men – Unohana had paired her with the bald, hot-blooded Madarame Ikkaku, and they fought more often than they danced.
"It's Unohana-sensei! And look Ikkaku, it's your lovely partner!" Yumichika observed, ignoring how his best friend scowled and muttered curses under his breath. "And if I'm not mistaken, Shuu-kun, that's your partner trying on that exquisite costume…" he fluttered over to the women, joining Yuri-san in her appraisal of the gown.
Shuuhei glanced up and caught Isane's eyes in the mirror. She looked both stunned and mortified…and absolutely breathtaking in the ballroom costume. His eyes trailed down her figure, enjoying the way the silky black fabric clung to her curves, exposing pale, flawless skin.
The punch of heat to his gut was unexpected and not entirely unwelcome. His lips curved slowly. So this is the way things are going to go, he thought in a sudden rush of clarity. And from the look in her face, the knowledge was just as clear to her.
Isane felt her knees trembling. The look in his eyes had gone from surprised to appreciative to…well, how could she describe the piercing gaze that held her transfixed? He almost seemed to prowl forward, never breaking their eye contact until he was directly behind her. From there he could smell her, her scent delicate and fresh, like lilies.
"You look stunning, Isane-san."
It would not do, she thought wildly, to faint like some silly heroine in a romance novel. "T-thank you, Shuuhei-san," she replied, grateful that her voice came out stronger than she actually felt, which hovered somewhere around awkward and distressed. Really, it couldn't be healthy for her heart to beat so fast…
Unohana hid a smile behind her hand. It looked like Shunsui was right. She took the situation quietly in hand, shooing out Renji and Yumichika, chatting quickly with Yuri-san about the dress, and pulling Ikkaku and Kiyone out with her for an impromptu lesson. And the two standing in front of the mirrors didn't notice a thing until the shop was quiet around them.
"What…where did everyone go?" Isane gasped, snapping out of her reverie.
Shuuhei chuckled. "I'm not sure," he lied through his teeth. "But perhaps you should change so that Yuri-san can get started on your dress. Would you like to get a drink with me?"
He was asking her out! Going pink with pleasure, Isane could only nod as she all but ran to the dressing room in her excitement.
They talked for hours over drinks. She told him about her parents, who were successful and eternally young in mind and heart. He told her about leaving Japan at a young age to learn to dance in America. She told him how watching ER made her want to be a doctor. He told her about losing his coach and his partner to a rival British dancer, an event that prompted his return to Japan. She told him how she basically raised Kiyone herself because their parents' constant jet setting.
"You know, I've got you pegged, Isane-san," he remarked as he took her home.
"Do you?" She leaned her head against the cool glass of the subway window, keeping her eyes on his the whole time.
"Yep." His fingers traced the lines of her hands. "You live to take care of people. Your parents, Kiyone, and now your patients."
"Yes, that makes sense. But I don't mind. I like taking care of people."
"But what about you?" Something in the tone of his voice sent shivers up her spine. "Who takes care of you, Isane?"
He'd dropped the honorific. Startled, Isane sprang to her feet as they reached her stop. "I take care of myself," she said quickly. "This is my stop, no need to come with me. I'll see you at practice, Shuuhei-san, thanks!" And she was gone.
Shuuhei stared after her. Matters had gone from simple to complicated in mere seconds. In the beginning, she was just another body to dance with; that was all. The respect and the attraction that developed soon after surprised him. Perhaps she could be a little more. But in the past few hours he saw far more than that and discovered a woman who was unfailingly generous. She gave to her sister, her parents, her patients, and to Unohana-sensei. But few gave back to her and it bothered him.
He knew all too well how that felt, after all. He'd given most of his life to ballroom, to a coach who always expected much but never demanded, and partners that demanded but never expected anything from him. For Coach Tousen, he worked: for his partners, never. Except now. He truly wanted to help Isane with the benefit for the hospital. He wanted to continue dancing with her. Perhaps…he even wanted to take care of her.
He brooded all the way back to his apartment over the studio, disconcerted by this sudden change in events.
Isane smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in her costume with fingers that trembled. The excited, hushed voices of the children filled the room as they lined up for their entrance. In the large, spacious lobby beyond she could hear the strains of the band above the muted rumble of voices. Tokyo General Hospital's 31st Annual Charity Ball was underway. The invitation list read like the Who's Who of Japan. Already she had seen more movie stars, singers, dancers, and social elite than any gossip magazine could dream to cover.
At least she hadn't bobbled when she saw Kuchiki Byakuya, though. She had already met him at the studio weeks before and had done plenty of bobbling then.
"Stop fussing, Isane-chan, you're going to chew off your lipstick!" Matsumoto Rangiku scolded, producing a tube of the stuff. She and Ise Nanao had appointed themselves as her helpers, getting her into the black ballroom costume, dealing with her hair, applying her makeup, and helping to organize the children. The two had rapidly become friends of hers within the past few weeks, even though both women still intimidated her with their beauty and confidence.
Even in the skin-tight, revealing costume she wore, she felt pale in comparison to Matsumoto, exquisite in a satiny pale green halter dress, her strawberry-blonde hair half pinned up and tumbling into riotous curls. Nanao was beautiful in a deep violet silk dress with wide straps that crossed at the gathered and pleated bust, her black hair pulled into a low ponytail that draped over her shoulder.
How could she ever think that Shuuhei would look at her twice with women like that standing next to her? She thought morosely, conveniently forgetting that ever since she tried on the black dress, every meeting of the eyes and every touch of skin between them sizzled with intensity. She didn't notice the careful scrutiny that was boring a hole in the back of her skull as Shuuhei stood on the other side of the room, carefully adjusting his silver bolero jacket.
Yuri-san had made him an outfit to match, of course. His pants were black and high at the waist, with a white dress shirt tucked into them. The silver bolero jacket went over the shirt, matching the silver embroidery in her dress.
He looked wonderful. He drew her just as strongly now as the day she walked into the 8/13 studio and she had a feeling that he always would. The fact that he saw her loneliness and her need was alarming. That night on the subway, it seemed like he was offering himself as the solution, but what if she was simply misreading the moment? She couldn't bear to think that she would gather the courage to accept only to find out that she'd gotten it terribly wrong.
Isane also didn't like the fact that he had managed to get to the root of her problem. She truly enjoyed being the caregiver, otherwise she wouldn't have taken that role for so many years or decided to take it on as a profession. She had done well without being taken care of, so it was a point of pride for her. For him to suggest that she needed it…well, that stung a little bit, even though it was true. She wanted someone to take care of her, for more reasons than she could admit. And she wanted that someone to be him.
"All right, dancers, places!" Nanao called, walking over to the children to soothe last-minute nerves and fix costumes. Matsumoto, after one last critical look-over, joined her.
Warm fingers curled around her elbow. "Are you ready?" Shuuhei asked, looking over their reflection in the mirror. He grinned. "We look good together."
"You make the beautiful, I make the couple," she joked weakly, looking away when he frowned. He would have said more, but she walked away quickly when Nanao called for them.
In the spacious hospital lobby, a space had been cleared for the dance. Shuuhei and Isane led the children out. The lights had been dimmed except for a ring of lights around the cleared space. The audience sighed over the children's costumes: all the boys wore duplicates of Shuuhei's outfit, though their bolero jackets were black. The girls wore long, ruffled black skirts with silver blouses, white roses in their hair.
And in the center stood Shuuhei and Isane, magnificent in silver and black.
Shuuhei knelt in a deep lunge, looking up at Isane, who posed with her legs slightly bent, her back arched, and her hands folded in front of her. "Isane," he said.
She met his stare, the nerves showing in her eyes. "What?"
"Remember, I want to see our story in every step. I want to see intensity, I want to see passion…and Isane…"
"Yes?"
"I want to see confidence. Believe it. Believe that you can do this."
And the music began, the famed España cañi, known all over the world with its distinctive Spanish guitars and castanets. It was music designed to rouse the body and the spirit. Isane closed her eyes, feeling the music move through her, seeing the confidence in his eyes. Confidence in her. She wouldn't let him or the children down.
She opened her eyes, and her resolve was clear. She danced. Her heart matched the rhythm, fast and furious, her blood singing with the guitars. The steps echoed in her head. Appel. Fallaway reverse. Promenade. Promenade link. Spanish line. Coup de pique. They had changed the choreography long ago, turning her from the cape to the bull. The dance was a challenge now; she could see it in his eyes. I dare you to love me, they seemed to say. It echoed in his hands, firm on her hips or on her hands as he spun her.
I dare to resist, she replied with a coy turn of the shoulder, turning her head to avoid looking into his eyes. Press line. Flamenco steps. Grand circle. Her hands were on her skirt, frothing the fabric into waves as they circled. The music swelled, approaching the grand finale.
The muscles in his arms bunched as he lifted her up and then down, spinning her in a circle while her arms circled his neck. He set her down gently and used the flamenco steps to put distance between them before sliding in front of her on his knees. He stood, coal-black eyes locked on golden cognac ones as the guitars made one last flourish. The children, having executed a simplified version of the dance, went into their final pose. The audience roared with approval.
Shuuhei ran a finger down a beaded braid, his eyes hooded. "Good job," he said. "Now, bow to the audience." Turning, they bowed and exited gracefully.
Later, Shuuhei walked the outdoor terrace off the cafeteria, which had been turned into a chic cocktail area. He tipped back his head to gaze up at the clear night sky, the silvery starlight bright against the inky blackness. Rather like Isane's dress, he mused. The breeze was crisp and cool, music drifting on its wings. It was, he mused, a night for romance. A night for magic.
He shook his head at his own folly and took a sip from the champagne flute in his hand.
"Is something funny, Shuuhei-san?" He glanced up and lost his breath for the second time that night. She wore chiffon, yards and yards of it in midnight blue. Yet when she turned to accept a glass of champagne, he caught a glimpse of the long, pale line of her back, showcased by draping fabric and a hint of lace. It was demure yet sexy, and completely Isane.
"Not really." He took another sip, regarding her thoughtfully.
Even though there were countless men wearing suits and tuxedos, there was no man present that looked like him, Isane thought. The cut of the jacket accented his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and his rough good looks added an intensely masculine appeal that overshadowed the pretty boys in attendance. "There's something that's been bothering me," she said hesitantly. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she continued. "What story was our paso doble telling, Shuuhei-san?"
Ah. So she'd caught his slip. "I thought I made that clear, Isane." He barely resisted emphasizing the familiarity with which he addressed her. "It's our story."
"Do we have one?"
"We could." The moonlight seemed to shine in her blush, and for a moment he thought he saw a glimpse of stars above in her eyes. It seemed his mind was on romantic overdrive, and he blamed it on the ambience. Pushing those feelings aside, he remarked, "Do you think I can't see it, Isane? You want this."
"Perhaps I do." She put up a hand as he stepped forward. "But what of you?"
"I-"
"Isane-chan, Shuu-kun, there you are!" Shunsui sang, interrupting the moment. Shuuhei took a step back with a disgruntled sigh. "What a fantastic paso doble, you two really outdid yourselves!"
"Isane-chan, I'm proud of you," Unohana said, hugging the younger woman. She wore a black-tiered satin shutter-tiered dress with a wide neck, cap sleeves, and a fishtail skirt. "The fundraising committee and the hospital board were very pleased. They are talking about dance lessons for the children."
Isane swelled with pride under her mentor's praise. "Thank you, Unohana-sensei, that means so much." She caught her partner's eye. "But Shuuhei-san deserves much more of the credit."
"Isane-san is a credit to herself," he corrected her gently.
"Indeed she is!" Shunsui boomed. "In fact," he continued, turning to her. "We would like to make you – and your charming sister – permanent members of the studio. That is, if Shuu-kun is in agreement?"
"I am." Shuuhei walked over to Isane and took her hand, making his decision. "Isane, I want you as my partner. Will you dance with me?"
Unohana exchanged glances with Shunsui. That simple question held more than it seemed. It seemed that Shuuhei had fallen for Isane. Love really is in the air, she thought delightedly.
Before Isane could reply, Ukitake Jyuushiro approached the group, his demeanor somewhat frazzled even though his appearance was impeccable. "Shunsui, Retsu, I need your help diffusing a situation."
"Oh?" Shunsui asked, mildly interested.
The white-haired man jerked his head over to the buffet table, where loud voices could be heard. "We need to separate Zaraki and Shiba Kuukaku before they bring the hospital down around our ears. You know how to deal with the woman. Retsu and I will take care of Zaraki."
Shunsui grimaced. "What kind of idiot would put those two in the same room?"
Unohana and her husband exchanged long-suffering glances. "You," they chorused.
"You are the one who said Kuukaku-chan should do the fireworks this year instead of Ganju," Ukitake reminded his best friend.
"Oh." Looking sheepish, he straightened his tie. "Well, l suppose we should waltz in and avert the crisis." He turned to Isane with a twinkle in his eyes. "If I don't return safely, tell my lovely Nanao-chan that I love her."
"Stop being melodramatic and go!" Ukitake ordered. Isane watched them go, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter.
"Do I get a response, Isane?"
She turned to him, her mind working fast. "Yes, of course I would like to dance with you, Shuuhei-san. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find Kiyone."
He let her go. Even an idiot would know that she only answered one part of that question, and he would be damned if he was going to press her for more. It was infuriating – for every step he took forward, she took one back, yet he knew she wanted…whatever it was between them. Maybe she didn't have needs of her own, he thought. She was kami-sama. He snorted.
"What are ya, nuts? Go after her, baka."
Shuuhei rolled his eyes. "Mind your own business, Renji."
"What good does that do?" The red-haired man leaned against the balcony railing. "I tell ya, if I'd minded my own business I never woulda gotten Nemu."
"Well, Nemu came to you, if I do recall."
"Yeah, after I laid out all my cards." Renji eyeballed his friend pointedly. "Ya gotta show them what they're looking for."
"I did. I sure as hell wasn't just asking her to dance with me."
"Well, maybe the woman didn't get the full message, eh? Women, they call us dense but they can be just as blind." He shook his head in disgust.
Shuuhei laughed. "Since when have you gotten so wise?"
He shrugged enigmatically. "Love does that, I guess. Ho, it's a show!" The two men watched as Shunsui not so gently towed a cursing black-haired woman dressed in red away from the buffet table.
"I swear to kami, Shunsui, turn me loose so I can beat the mother f-"
"Not a chance, Kuukaku."
Renji shuddered. "Shiba women. They're almost as bad as Shihouins." He glanced at his friend. "Well?"
A muted growl was his answer.
Hours later, Isane sat with Kiyone in the cab, watching as the buildings flew by.
"Onee-san, I saw something interesting today."
She smiled fondly at her sister. "What's that, Kiyone?"
"You. Being stupid."
Isane couldn't have been more surprised if her sister hit her with a baseball bat. "W-what?"
The blonde sighed gustily. "Any fathead could see the way Hisagi Shuuhei was ogling you. Do you know how many women would have given their right arm for him to look at them that way? I think even Inoue Mao was mooning over him a little but…but I digress. And yet here you are with me instead of him."
"Well, I needed to take you home-"
"Onee-san, I'm not a kid anymore!" Kiyone interrupted. "I'm twenty years old, so you can stop using me as an excuse for not really living your life."
Isane stared, astonished. "Kiyone, I'm sorry-"
"The only person you have to apologize to, onee-san, is yourself." The cab drew to a stop and she paid the driver. "And him," she said as an afterthought, jerking her head to the side.
Hisagi Shuuhei stood in front of their apartment building, backlit by the lights in the lobby. One hand was shoved into his pocket while the other one absent-mindedly rubbed the ever-present black choker.
"Hi, Shuuhei-kun!" Kiyone said cheerfully. She looked back at her sister and mouthed, "Talk to him," before sailing into the building.
"Shuuhei-san, I-"
"Please be quiet, Isane-san," he requested stiffly. "Renji said I need to lay out all of my cards, so I will. I take back what I said earlier about asking you to dance with me. You see," he continued, ignoring her sputter. "I feel like we could be more, much more, than mere partners, Isane-san, but if you won't acknowledge it, why should I? Why should I put myself through the torture of dancing with you every day knowing that I can't really touch you, when it's really all I want to do?" He was standing in front of her now, his hand hovering inches from her cheek. Isane couldn't breathe from his proximity. "See, you're trembling, Isane. You can't hide it from me."
Why would she want to? She thought dazedly. He wanted her, how wonderful was that? She never would have dreamed that he could. She couldn't allow herself to doubt or to say that she was misreading the moment because he just told her, in words plain and clear, what they could be together.
He bit off a curse, mistaking the emotion in her eyes. He yanked his hand away and Isane mourned the loss of heat. "I want to know why, Isane-san. Why won't you take a chance, even though you want to? Is it because I wasn't the nicest person in the beginning? I'm sorry, but sometimes I can be a bastard. You know what, never mind," he said when she opened her mouth. "I don't want to know. Kami, I can't take this!" He began to pace furiously.
Isane couldn't work her way around the barrage of information, her mind a mess of jumbled questions. Why was he calling her Isane-san? It made her feel itchy and uncomfortable. Why did he think she didn't like him? Why couldn't he stop moving and muttering, for the love of god, and just let her talk?
Shuuhei cursed again as the silence persisted, not knowing that Isane was lost in her own thoughts. Taking her reticence as assent, he gave up. "So you're not going to say anything? Fine. I'll go. Maybe I'll see you around, Isane-san."
She blinked: was he walking away? No, she couldn't let him go. Not when he was exactly what she needed and everything she wanted. Kiyone was right; she needed to really live her life for once, without regard to anyone's feelings but her own. She had to do something, anything to make him stay.
"I take care of myself, but that doesn't mean I like it," she called out. He stopped and turned, the expression on his face disbelieving. "You see, I get nightmares. Silly ones, stupid ones, but nightmares nonetheless. I wake up cold and sweating and trying not to scream because I don't want to disturb Kiyone."
"What are you trying to tell me, Isane?" He approached her, obsidian eyes intent on her face. "Where do you think I fall into this?"
Isane took a deep breath, summoning up her courage. "I'm trying to tell you that maybe I need someone to take care of me."
A hush fell over the street, as though the entire city was holding its breath. Shuuhei paced, finally stopping in the shadows, where she couldn't see his face. "And you think I can be that person, Isane? You want me to be the one who keeps the nightmares at bay?"
"Yes," she whispered, half-terrified that after all this time, he would turn tail and run.
Even though he stood in shadow, she saw his wide, boyish grin. "Get over here."
Isane stared dumbly. He made a face at her, one that plainly said, "Do you think I'm kidding?" and opened his arms. She beamed and stepped into them, turning her face upward to receive his kiss. He gave her moonbeams, Isane thought, dazzled. Moonbeams and violins and fireworks and music.
When they finally parted, panting, he pressed his forehead to hers. "Do you trust this, Isane? Do you trust in us?"
Her fingers twined with his. "Yes, yes I do. Do you?"
"I do." And together they swayed to the song of the summer wind.
A/N: Yay for the fifth installment of the Strictly Ballroom series! Isane and Hisagi were nearly as hard to write as Unohana was in CFWM, because you see them all of two time or so within the manga. I had to go with a lot of assumptions, especially with Hisagi. I thought I'd incorporate a little bit of Johnny Castle and Scott Hastings (the heroes of Dirty Dancing and Strictly Ballroom, respectively) into his personality - their arrogance, bitterness, and perfectionism suits a championship ballroom dancer, I think. And I do believe Hisagi would be a tiny bit arrogant, seeing as how he was taking assignments for the Gotei 13 while he was still in the Academy. The bitterness comes from Tousen, of course. Isane was much easier - her insecurity (and her nightmares, for that matter) is canon. Isane's paso doble costume is based on Kelly Monaco's from Season 1 of Dancing With the Stars. In case anyone's wondering, Isane and Shuuhei's paso doble is based entirely on the final dance in Strictly Ballroom. If you haven't seen it already, I suggest you check it out! As for the next installment's couple, I've already foreshadowed them here...anyone care to take a guess?
Thanks go out to Poptate, the ever-faithful and constantly suffering beta. Feilyn, this Shuuhei is for you, and big hugs go to MatsuMama for suggesting the whole idea for the hospital fund-raiser! I was so tired of writing about competitions!
By the way, does the idea of dancing the bolero with Mayuri scare you? If you don't want that to happen, please review! XD