Hi there, this is my first multichaptered fanfic - wanted to try my hand at something different other than the usual one-shots and drabbles. This is rather AU, slipping away from canon after the Bount Arc. Also, there seems to be a heap of fanfics featuring romances between canon characters and OCs. I've decided NOT to include romance and focus more on an aspect which is equally important but usually gets less attention: friendship, as well as the lives of the shinigami in days wherein war threatens every corner of Soul Society.

Anyway, I'm an aspiring writer willing to improve my prose, so I'd like to know what you readers think! :) And I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: A Toast to Death

In the early hours of dawn, Captain Ukitake Jushiro sat in the office of the Thirteenth Division barracks, nursing a steaming cup of tea and watching as the sun rose from behind the obscuring walls of the Seireitei. Jushiro loved watching the sunrise which was, in his eyes, a fair sight to behold. But given the state his health was in, it was strongly recommended for him to skip his morning pleasure in exchange for extra hours of sleep. But really, was there any point in losing the chance to witness such a breathtaking reality just so he could carry on with an empty dream? -

Jushiro smiled to himself, taking a light sip of warm tea. Even in a small amount of intake, he found himself sighing at the rich complexity of its taste. There was no surprise in that, however. He should have known that the quality of the Kuchiki family's tea leaves was not one to be disputed.

As the sun rose in the sky, overflowing the dark halls of the Seireitei with its generous light and ushering in a new day for humans and shinigami alike, Jushiro set down the empty cup and started shifting through the heaps of documents piled high in front of him. He was sure that his two acting lieutenants were going to arrive soon with more paperwork. Shortly after the thought ran through his mind, they came racing into his office, tripping over one another while uttering awkward formalities which Jushiro dismissed with a wave of his hand. After handing him two more piles of paperwork and a long blur of compliments, they disappeared.

Eying the greatly despised work now piled much higher than before, Jushiro sighed and reached for a pen. As he did so, his eyes darted involuntarily to the door, shut and not promising any visitors other than his two officers.

It was during days like these that Jushiro wished he had the sense to take breakfast beforehand.

xxx

It was not until much later, nearing noon, that Jushiro received a knock on his door. Before the knock even came, he already recognized the familiar pattern of weak spiritual pressure, and it was unsurprising when a young brunette came stumbling into the office with a wide grin of apology.

"Mornin', captain," she mock saluted, nudging the door shut with her foot.

"Let me guess," Jushiro said as he settled his pen down, intertwining his fingers. "You found out at the very last minute that you hadn't enough ingredients, and so you had to wait for the grocer to open shop before you could start. Is that correct?" He smiled as she began to fumble with words, trying to lie her way around it.

"Don't be so demanding," she replied. "At least I brought your meds. You were running low, after all," she added, nodding at the rapidly decreasing pills in the small container on the desk.

"Thank you." Jushiro took the packet that contained capsules of medicine that had been specially formulated for his illness by Unohana Retsu, a former classmate of his in the academy, as well as the current captain of the Fourth Division. Given the number of pills in the packet, and the size of the container, he would last for about three days at the most before having to re-supply.

As he watched her unpack a round container from the basket she was carrying, only to set it in front of him with an authoritative "drink it," he couldn't find the might to inform her that he had already eaten, and that he was more than contentedly full. One of his acting lieutenants, Kiyone Kotetsu, had taken the liberty of ordering a meal larger than was possible to fit in him, saying that he needed the nutrients. But honestly, he didn't find much protein in a mass of greens. Nonetheless, he put the rim of the container to his lips and drank. Once the bitter tang of herbs melted away, the sweetness of red beans danced on his tongue, leaving a wonderful aftertaste.

"How was it?" she asked, a question uttered at least once every day, and Jushiro gave the reply he normally offered.

"Good as always."

A proud beam lit up her face, though she tried to control it with a satisfied nod, as she packed the empty container away.

"I noticed something different," he said, observantly.

"Yeah, I replaced lemon with red beans. Thought you might want something new instead of all those boring – not to mention sour – lemons."

"So, you're experimenting?"

"Well, sort of. It's not fatal, really. What, do you want those lemons back?"

"I don't mind how it tastes so long as it does its job." Jushiro wasn't one for superfluous additions.

"So you won't mind even if it tastes like shit?" She laughed when he made quite a sound clearing his throat, and gestured to the chair opposite from him. "May I sit?"

Jushiro picked up the discarded pen and resumed his work, pretending to not notice her finger-snaps in his face.

"Fine. Ignore me," she grumbled.

"You don't need an invitation to sit in my office, Izumi. Haven't I told you that before, or have you just simply forgotten?"

"I'd say that I ignored it." Izumi plopped down in the chair and leaned over the desk to see what he was doing. "Looks tough."

"Would you mind helping me with them, then?" He didn't even know why he even bothered to ask since he already knew the answer. Maybe it was just for the fun of it.

"I love reading, but only if it's got something to do with someone climbing on top of the other." She blinked innocently when his pen stopped moving. "Has it got a detailed text of women stripping? That why you love your work so much?"

Jushiro signed his name, a confirmation seal, without a word and placed the paper in the outbox rack.

"I'm just kiddin', Ukitake. C'mon!"

"Yes, I know," he replied calmly, reaching for another paper and holding it in front of his face to read. If only there were texts of stripping women, poor Lieutenant Nanao wouldn't have to dig up the whole place looking for her procrastinating captain. And Kyoraku himself would be stuck in his office all day, drinking sake and imagining indecencies as his eyes fed on the words. "How's Saito doing?"

Izumi blew a raspberry, supporting her chin in a hand. "That guy can never keep his mouth shut. Once he walks through the door, he's all 'bastard said this, bastard did that.'"

"He's still upset, I see. Still misses his old captain?"

"Yeah. I try to get him to shut up but he just won't listen. If he keeps going on like this, I won't be surprised if he ends up like that dumbass Ichinose."

"I personally think that Captain Zaraki does not find joy in murdering his own subjects." Jushiro let the paper flutter into the out rack and reached for another one. "He may be the one most aroused by the sight of blood, but he has his own code of honour as well. No captain would think of killing his own squad member."

"Yeah?" She sounded skeptical.

"I'm positive." He flashed a reassuring smile. "Does Saito still complain about your bringing soup over here? He seems quiet about it these past weeks."

"Sometimes." She nodded, and Jushiro could see the relief in her eyes following the change of subject. "But he's fairly used to it now. He should be. I mean, I have to put up with his late nights out and all the alcohol. After all that, I'd be damned if he doesn't cut me any slack." She shifted in the chair, grinning as Jushiro plucked out yet another piece to read through and sign. "Tough work. Don't your lieutenants help you with that?"

"Acting lieutenants," he said with a tone that was a little too sharp. Looking up, his apology was lodged in his throat when she waved a hand dismissively with a muttered "sorry" of her own. "Acting lieutenants," he said, softening his voice but still retaining a hint of finality. "Yes, they do help me with paperwork sometimes, when they aren't busy training the new recruits, but their squabbling…doesn't really make for a peaceful environment, don't you think?"

A chuckle left her. "But it's fun to watch 'em getting all nervous around their beloved Captain Ukitake."

Jushiro sighed in slight exasperation at the patronizing tone in her voice. He knew that it was just a joke, but he couldn't help but feel more than a little fed up with it.

"It's hard to manage them at times-"

She coughed behind her hand to mask what Jushiro caught was "most of the time."

"Well…yes, but they are very reliable. They get things done, fast and efficient."

"Though not all that professionally."

"But they get things done nonetheless," said Jushiro with a tone that denied any form of objection. Izumi held up both hands, palms towards him, in mock defeat before pointing an accusing finger at him.

"See, Jushiro?"

"Oh, don't start please."

She ignored him. "That's the reason why you receive tons of new recruits each year. You're what every squad member would want in a captain."

He held his forehead in his hand with a frown that seemed strange, contorting his near-feminine features whose sharp face contours the only form of masculinity present. "Don't start."

Grinning, Izumi got up from her seat and, leaning over, gave Jushiro's shoulder a good-natured slap. "All right, I'm gonna leave you in peace. Take it easy, okay, Captain?" Pinching his cheeks, she stretched the sides of his face till a rather reluctant smile formed. His eyebrows were still knitted together though, which made her huff in frustration. "C'mon, smile!"

Gently, Jushiro removed her hands and stared up at her, studying her.

"What?"

"You're the one who needs to smile."

"I'm smiling right now."

"Many say that what shows on the outside rarely reflects what is really on the inside." Reclining in his chair, Jushiro put the pen down, letting it roll over the paper, his eyes never leaving hers. "I find that to be true. With you, at least." When the pen came to a stop, he said, "You're worried about Saito, aren't you?"

Giving up, Izumi stood behind the chair with her hands braced on top of its backrest, as if it was a shield meant to protect her from the white-haired man. "I hate you and your mind-reading games."

Jushiro let a small smile tug at the edges of his mouth. "It's called observation. And you're a bad liar which makes it significantly easier. Now, talk to me."

Izumi stared out the window for a moment, not really looking at the greenery surrounding the barracks, before giving a nonchalant shrug which Jushiro knew to be a façade. A very lousy one. "He's gone on a mission. Apparently, there's a horde of Hollows ravaging the outer districts of the Rukon. He was already gone when I woke. Left me a note. Told me not to worry."

"And you shouldn't."

At the stern look in his eyes, Izumi sighed and held up a hand. "All right, fine. I shouldn't. But I can't help it. If Saito was your husband…wife, I'm guessing you'd feel the same."

Jushiro couldn't deny the fact, but yes he would feel the exact same way. But that was what they did. Their job was to risk their lives to protect Soul Society and to do that, they underwent training to minimize any unwanted casualties.

"You're being paranoid," he concluded, rising from his seat with a gesture towards the tea pot. The leftover tea should be cold by now, but there was no trouble in brewing another round. Izumi shook her head, backing towards the door. "The Eleventh Division is specially trained to fight on the front lines. Dispatching a few Hollows is mere child's play to them."

Izumi forced a laugh that came out as a miserable wheeze, the sound reminiscent of what one hears when stepping on a toad and squeezing the life out of it. "Saito says that all the time. Guess you're both right. Why do I even bother anyway?"

"You worry too much." Jushiro opened the door for her and she stepped out into the corridor. Loud sounds of clashing zanpakuto could be heard from the dojo downstairs. "Are you sure you wouldn't want to have some tea? I had Captain Kuchiki's latest sent over just recently. It does quite a job of calming the nerves."

"Maybe in the evening, after you're done with work, when I send over more soup?" she suggested, looking down the corridor both ways with a grin that showed no less mischief than a child's. "Where's Kiyone?"

"Most likely in the dojo." Chuckling, Jushiro nodded. "Well enough." And as the white-haired captain watched her back as she faded down the stairs, he felt a slight change in the wind rustling through the trees outside the window. He didn't know whether it was for better or worse, but he couldn't wait for the day to end. Turning back to his desk where work was waiting for him, daunting, he wished he had told her he preferred lemons to red beans.

xxx

That evening, as Izumi prepared the captain's herbal soup, a hard rap on the door of the little house startled her out of her concentration. Hot liquid splashed onto her hands but she managed to jump back before staining her clothes. Grumbling a curse, she raced to the sink and ran her hands under the faucet, sighing in relief as cold water eased the burning pains.

Another rap sounded, this time much louder and angrier, threatening to burst a hole in the door.

"I hear you, damn it," she growled. What idiot could possibly be trying to grate on her nerves at this time of night? If Saito were home, he'd already have the person smashed through a wall.

Wiping her hands on her shirt, she grabbed the knob and flung the door open. Black dots clouded her vision as the light of a lantern blinded her momentarily. Blinking them away, she found herself staring at a young man who seemed to be slightly older than she was, with tousled jet black hair and grey eyes.

Izumi couldn't understand the desolate look in those grey orbs nor the crease in his brows. Not until he opened his tight-lipped mouth and she heard the words that stabbed a thousand zanpakuto into her heart.

"Murakami Saito is dead."

xxx

That evening, Jushiro waited and waited until well into the night for the herbal soup that would ease the increasing irritation in his throat. Finally deciding that the woman had probably forgotten, Jushiro went to bed and braved through a series of dry hacking coughs with only the cold leftover tea for comfort.

It wasn't until late the next morning that he heard the news from a blabbering Kiyone, who in turn overheard a few unseated shinigami of the Eleventh Division talking.

Both husband and wife were dead. He was struck down by a multitude of Hollows, a most heroic way to die. She, on the other hand, had too much to drink.

Death by one's own hand was frowned upon by the shinigami and, as stated in the ancient laws, the perpetrator's soul was to be banished to the fiery depths of Hell where it would suffer severe punishment. Those who were strong enough made it through and were reincarnated as human beings to start a new life on Earth, much like any other soul.

Those who hadn't the strength or will to survive the Fire, well, they simply perished.

Most of them did.

Beta-read by: Laerkstrein