" 'Cause I don't believe in anything, and I wanna be someone who believes," -"Mr. Jones," Counting Crows
The soft clink of thick-walled ceramic on wood as Tessai set the tea on the table in front of her, she thought, was warmer than the cold clink of thin-walled porcelain on stone in those great, distant halls could have ever been.
Tia cradled the traditional, handleless mug in both her hands and took a sip of the bold, yet mild bancha.
"I think this is just what I needed," she told Tessai as he sat down with his own cup as she silently hoped nothing of her was shaking.
"Miss Tia," he spoke softly—though softly for a voice that spoke as the great Lucianno Pavarotti had sung was not as soft as most.
At the unusual address, she could not help but remember their age gap, even if she was still 63, he was at least a hundred over her. She reminded herself that it was his way of conveying actual respect and not mocking, as it would be coming from the mouth of the man he'd just brought her away from.
"Why?"
At that, she knew he knew, that he had to know.
She rose her head from her teacup in a sort of deferent defiance; she would have him explain—it was her life, after all.
"Miss Nel and Mister Grimmjow have told me many a thing, and I have heard as many from the room you two share as well.
"Our children might be young, but Yoruichi, Kisuke and I have been together for over a century. I believe myself knowledgeable in love. What Noitora shows you, Miss Tia, is not love."
She had long noted Tessai's refusal to add the deferetial honorific to Noitora's name.
She had long known it was well deserved.
She had long known he was right.
But she had long known nothing better in her partnerships. Just as long, she had felt she'd known her luck. And as much as she'd known the blatantness of the men who'd done this to her was greatly fuelled by sexism, she, who believed in true equality, knew that a woman had just as much capacity for villany as well as heroics as a man. And that had she been interested in women as much as men, and sought female partnership, her luck would be no more kind.
Such, she felt, was her only choice. In an instant, she filled with rage, ready to burst and scatter as a dropped thermometer—how dare the person in front of her, so priveledged and loved and respected and lucky judge her.
She exhaled her contempt, for all appearances, deflating with it as a slashed tyre.
"Would it be, Mr. Tukabisi, that we were all so fortunate in love."
Tessai sipped his tea with uncanny gravity, "If you were to give your chickens away to an enemy, and one day, a dear friend were to need chickens, but you have no chickens left..."
Tia shook her head, "I have kept my chickens too many winters. I would rather they be given while they are alive."
Light, nimble footsteps approached from the hall that led to the storefront.
"Would you rather give sick chickens to an enemy who will let them die, or nurture them until someone deserving of healthy and lively chickens comes along?"
A momentary show of shock and embarrasement flashed across Tia's face as she glanced up at Yoruichi, who stood at the doorframe, before she recomposed herself and stood as well.
"Thank you for the tea, Mr. Tukabisi. Perhaps some tea is good after all."
Keeping her head down, she brusquely walked past Yoruichi, slipped on her shoes without stopping to sit in the well, and slipped out the residential back door.
Yoruichi exchanged a distressed look with the father of her eldest child.
"Shall I...keep trying?"
Yoruichi bit her lip, gazing in the general direction Tia had gone as she sat with Tessai.
"We all will."
