Too Late to Apologize

Disclaimer: This should be obvious by now, but Bleach isn't my property. I only borrow, twist, and make no sense out of it all.

Summary: Ukitake has one simple request, that Soi Fon say sorry for a random trespass. UkiSoi. One shot.

Note: The plot is grounded on Shinigami Golden Cup 162. Please try to look it up on youtube if you haven't, because otherwise this wouldn't make any sense. Thank you.

That she could act so haughtily and leave the crime scene as though no offense was ever taken was what kept him stubbornly awake that night. He remembered the smirk on her face as she skillfully drew out her kunai and pinned him on the tree with them; as usual, her speed was unnatural, matched with a precision only years of practice could achieve with mastery. But her smile lingered and widened a fraction to reveal her full intention, something words themselves couldn't express if they have to fill up a volume. Then, in an unexpected whoosh, she slashed off his white captain cloak to pieces as they flew into the air in unrecognizable shapes. He would have admired her further for her sheer accuracy if it was another person who was receiving such abuse, but under such circumstances, there were other forms of torture he'd gladly accept than this. In an instant, Kiyone, profoundly apologetic and suffering, appeared from behind her and started clicking several times in her best attempt to capture her captain in his most paralyzed, humiliating state. Amidst his shock at this betrayal, he called out "Yamero!"--more times than he could actually count. She only cut him off with a succinct, "Take off his pants." The succession of events was so breathtaking that he hardly knew how else to describe it, at least for the time being.

He was convinced he blacked out the next moment, or else he tried his best to push the memory to the far corner of his mind until it started bearing no resemblance to the truth. But Soi Fon, Captain of the 2nd Division and Commander of the Assassination Brigade, made no open indication to let him forget. If anything, she seemed to have made sure that he remembered. The very next morning, the photos were published in the Shinigami Weekly, attracting a far wider audience than before and breaking sales records: It was a fact well known that the printing press at Gotei 13 could perform its functions seamlessly on the shortest notice, and this time was no exception. Ukitake Jyuushirou therefore sighed in despair inside his office, a huge lump on his throat threatening to turn into a violent coughing fit. But before it happened, he heard a knock on the door and bid the visitor entry. It was Kiyone, shaking and teetering on the verge of her nerves.

"Taichou-sama! Forgive me. I was just taking orders. The Shinigami Women's Association needs income and it was the only way… forgive me, Taichou!" No sooner than these words were lashed out that she fell hard on her knees and sniveled.

"I understand, Kiyone." He replied gently. "Get up. I don't want to see you guilt-ridden over that. I think I should be happy to have helped." It had been very far from his mind to blame his subordinate for the event. In fact, he had forgotten that Kiyone was responsible for the striking shots. He had anticipated her profuse apologies; he knew she would crawl to his office begging for forgiveness, and knew he'd graciously accept, and the issue between them would be settled in the most convenient, predictable and swift manner. Indeed, in the exact same manner, they laid the episode to rest, here in his study, and both were none the sadder for it. What mattered, what made him content, was that Kiyone made sincere efforts to seek his forgiveness.

But quite apart from this, he knew too well that she wouldn't, and that he would at whatever cost have to take matters in his own hands.

She was combing through old files when her lackey announced the arrival of a visitor. The day had stretched long enough to result in a slight ache that beat recursively against her temples. The afternoon was warm and airless, sweat-inducing and irritating. For someone to actually sit at her desk for a few straight hours without complaints in this climate was a feat of outstanding patience. And of all things true, Soi Fon had endured worse.

"Come in." she said, not eyeing the person who had materialized in her doorway.

"Soi Fon-san." Ukitake came forward; his voice was straightforward and clear. "I hope I came at the right time."

"By all means. Sit down." she said. He noticed that she was in her combat suit, scarce in the fabric department and seemed ready to pounce at one suspicious movement. Not wanting to appear obvious, he merely concluded that the lack could be attributed to the rising temperature and re-directed his gaze. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Ukitake pulled a chair, breathed and found it hard to conjure a pleasant smile. In that one minute, he experienced more stabs of hesitations than he ever did in his years as a captain combined. He was sure he had often chosen the right words to say, made the right decisions, and thought the most sensible thoughts. Sitting like this in front of her now, vis-à-vis her stillness and reserve, made him want to reassess that self-opinion.

"I want you to apologize for what happened." He finally found his voice after much silent dawdling. Soi Fon regarded him and furrowed her brows.

"I don't remember doing anything that should demand your pardon, Ukitake; perhaps it was someone else." She responded and with the glance she gave him, he was certain she was not compelled to know the reasons behind his attendance.

"As you would plainly remember, Soi Fon-san, one week ago you and Kiyone attacked me in my garden as I was just about to have a pleasant tea. The outcome, as you might already have realized, reached the heights where it's impossible for me now to regain my dignity. And that's not to add that your so-called Association is the sole benefactor of my downfall. Honestly, the photos you took of me are capital evidence of an offense that should merit no less than a demotion."

"Don't exaggerate, Ukitake. I know the rules perfectly well and I stand by my word: I didn't violate any law and am therefore not sorry. Besides, I wasn't the one holding the camera; it was your third seat officer." She said. Her impudence stung him in such a way that it made his lips twitch.

"She was sorry to have done so and to prove this point, she rushed headlong to my office the very next day to express how grieved she was—"

"Well, that just says, Ukitake, that things come with a price—"

"Then it would follow, Soi Fon-san, that you, having benefited from my disgrace, should make a payment of some sort."

"I already did." she spat. Her sarcasm, her trademark irony, was there on her face, keeping it perfect company as she drawled out the words.

"And how and when, may I ask?"

"At the sight of your underwear. I was pretty convinced that the horror I received was enough compensation."

"I didn't come here to be insulted by you. I was keen on maintaining my respect for someone as well rounded on the standards and practices of Shinigami as you are—however much you took advantage of me---but I didn't expect to receive this sort of treatment, least of all from someone who's a fellow captain. I have brooked much ridicule, Soi Fon-san, and not until this day did I confront the worst." Ukitake railed, angered. He caught himself not wholly able to process her ruthless words as an overwhelming desire to return the favor filled him. He wanted to hurt her.

"And what would you have me do? Enroll in a Good Manners and Right Conduct class?" she started to grin and once again, her sarcasm was guarding her. "before you ask, let me tell you that I, too, was acting on orders. Should you plan to build a case against my intolerable behavior, as you would no doubt put it, kindly take into account the Organization that made me do it. Until such a time, I'll give or take consider this as an error of judgment on your part."

"I intend to do no such thing. And let me repeat, if I have to, that the slip of judgment is on yours. I am the victim here. And yet, notice how generous I'm being: I only want your apology."

"If it's apology you want, Ukitake, I'm sure there's plenty to go around; but don't count on them coming from me." she said and saw the whole proposal for what it was: a bargain she neither wanted to indulge nor see the point of.

"If it comes to that, then I have no choice but to resort to legal measures. Should I take this to mean that you're prepared for a suit?"

"I see no reason why that shouldn't be welcome. I'm pretty certain you'll drop it sooner or later," she gave him a sharp glance and in perfect composure continued, "or more likely yet, lose."

"Lose? And why would I lose, pray tell? The proof is too solid and no doubt in my favor. You're not saying you've forgotten about the hideous magazine's circulation and that it states your name in the by-line? Surely, you should've known how well you stand against the odds by now."

"I haven't forgotten, Ukitake." She replied calmly with an edge of pride in her tone, seeming to ease off a little. "Let me ask you, though, how high your tolerance for sexual abuse is. Let's leave defamation of character for later."

"I have almost no tolerance for it. For the same reason, I have strong opinions against your recent deed. You do realize that what you did falls nothing short of harassment, Soi Fon-san?"

"I anticipated you'd say that. But let me ask you, Ukitake; isn't your best friend, that loose man Kyourako Shunsui, guilty of just the same or even worse categorical offense? Doesn't he go around molesting women any chance he gets and invariably get away with it through your help? Honestly, you two are enjoying too much freedom and laxity. If I'm not mistaken, in such cases, you can be accused as his accomplice, an accessory to the 'crime' just as your subject Kiyone is."

Ukitake grew angry as he watched her in her singular focus to further degrade him. More than anything, he was annoyed by the fact that she'd drag Kyourako's name into the scene when he had the least to do with it. "I am not Kyourako and whatever his business is with women is beyond my power to regulate. You, however, should have known better than to proceed with the Association's orders and acted on the ethics expected of you. As sad as I am to have to say this, Youruichi-san would've been disappointed, I'm sure."

"I did not allow my footman to receive you so that you can insult me, Ukitake!" she barked soon as the last word graced Ukitake's lips, flushing. At this point, he realized in full clarity that he had broken a taboo. She too had visibly flared up, only to a much greater degree than he was; a perfect signal for an impending face-off, ready to break any moment now. "You just prepared yourself for the unthinkable, Ukitake. I've been implying all along that you shouldn't try anything you'd regret in the future; now watch where this would get you."

Without another word and in a fiery surge of emotion, she charged at him, making the papers around them rise and flutter in inordinate movements across the room. Ukitake only had half a moment to wonder at her speed. A glint of gold flickered just below his shoulder and disappeared the next flash. He felt the tip of something sharp trying to wedge in the space between her and himself; and a soft whisper of incantation slithered out of her tongue. He then dusted himself up, wielded his arms and took a swing. Something glass-like seemed to crack and produced a momentary sound against the wind. It was over in a split second. She switched over on her toes, lost balance, spaced out. In its repose, her face seemed mellowed down, tamed, creating an extraordinary effect on its otherwise cold and impenetrable features. The worst Ukitake had feared had happened, that he would actually come to hurt this woman, and that therefore this was more trouble than it was worth. She was hard-headed, inconsiderate, and refused to offer the apology due him for no other reason than she was incredibly proud. He swore that was the main and sole thing he would henceforward hate about her. But looking at her closely, intimately, he knew now what it was that deprived him of sleep these past few nights: it was how beautiful she really looked and held herself.

Breathless, he lifted her off the ground and muttered the word, "Sorry."

She came to a thick film of darkness that, to her despair, refused to break its own anonymity. Underneath her, something soft laid itself flat on the surface. It offered comfort, security and probably even recovery—the things she urgently needed. She directed her eyes to what seemed like the only source of light in the unknown space. A four cornered structure glowed faintly in the dark, probably from ten feet away, a vague estimate. It took a few moments before it occurred to her that it was a window, eclipsed by half a curtain and allowing a partial view of the quiet night outside. How many hours had passed since then? Something wasn't right with her eyes; they felt blurred, malfunctioning, incomplete. But that, too, was the least of her concern: something jabbed against her spine, something that was inviting the word she hated most, "pain".

"You're awake. How do you feel?" It was Ukitake. She could feel him stirring weakly in the dark in his efforts to appear as unobtrusive as possible. He held out a hand as if to support her, to communicate a simple selfless gesture. She rejected it.

"Where am I? What time is it?"

"It's midnight. You're in your room."

"You should've just left, Ukitake. I can take care of myself."

"I… Listen, it wasn't intentional." Ukitake gave it a start. He wanted to say that he acted on impulse as a response to her irrational outburst and violence, but he knew, too, that this was the least she needed. She didn't need his justifications, explanations, arguments and the like. "What happened was essentially and necessarily a mistake. I didn't want to fight back—"

"Forget it. This makes us even, so please leave. Your business here is over." She grunted; even without light, Ukitake could tell that she was seething the words through gritted teeth.

"No, it's not." He sighed briefly. "What came to light now, all this, they're a result of conscious decisions on both our parts. I'm just saying, we should be responsible. I don't want to find myself again at dagger points with you; most of all, I would hate it if you give me any more reason to act immaturely. To be frank with you, I am ashamed. I shouldn't have raised my weapon, but you unsheathed yours and might have even drawn first blood. I think that's just so uncharacteristic of a leader. Even so, I shouldn't have used force."

"Do you suggest that you could've taken me on that easily? I've realized that much, Ukitake, but I don't feel bound to thank you for restraining yourself just as yet."

"To be sure, my reitatsu far exceeds yours. I shouldn't have executed that amount of force against you, and that's something that reverses the situation: I should be begging for your apology, but on a truly separate subject. I still haven't forgiven you for the photos."

There was a strain in the atmosphere, which seemed determined to grow thicker and thicker by the seconds. Both were apparently making mental notes of the words said, recalling them, finding rationality for each and every syllable. Was there ever a good reason for such wildly inappropriate actions? Or reactions?

Then, in a bizarre moment of incredulity, Soi Fon burst out laughing. Ukitake frowned and assumed an expression of complete bewilderment. To him, the moment demanded nothing more than silence, a well-kept and contemplative silence where options are weighed, deliberated and judged, and never made fun of this way. Moreover, for Soi Fon to behave like this, it seemed to point to a far graver suspicion. Did he hit her hard enough to lose her marbles like this?

"I have to give it to you, Ukitake; you know exactly where you stand. Here's something to think about: Do you know that just now you gave me a perfect excuse to completely bust you up in the trial? I wouldn't have dreamed of the day you'd incriminate yourself at your own expense but here you go."

"I'm not sure if I follow you, Soi Fon-san."

"Well, I'm simply stating that you're stronger than me."

"And?"

"Ergo, you could've resisted, one way or another."

"Resisted?" Ukitake repeated, not really concealing his confusion. Whatever ideas were forming inside Soi Fon's head were dead alien to him.

"Resisted. The day I pinned you against your garden tree with my kunai. If it was inconvenient for you to have been stripped off your garments, you naturally had the option to use force to scuttle away from your captors, even without hurting me, or Kiyone for that matter. But on the contrary--and this is strange--you had to suffer infringement and be taken advantage of. If you simply disengaged the kunai and run away from us, which you are no doubt capable of, none of the resulting embarrassment would've bothered you. Am I right? Or are you still thinking of pursuing a trial? What do you think my sentence should be, considering all this, if at all?"

Ukitake pondered for a moment. He darted a questioning look at her as a child that was treated unfairly. "So that's your defense? You're not exactly hinting at me deliberately wanting to expose mysel—"

"Far from it. What should it matter in the long run? I don't believe any self-respecting Shinigami would want to flash his half-nakedness to the opposite sex, definitely not you, though I might make exception as to that friend of yours. There, pure and simple. At any rate, I'd like to hear your thoughts. Well?"

"Well, I suppose a trial isn't forthcoming." Defeated, Ukitake let the words leave his mouth.

"I have guessed that much. In that case, I apologize for the trespass. I hope that makes a difference." She said dismissively.

Ukitake stared at her, nearly open-jawed. In the thinning darkness, the contours of her figure stood prominent and solid; likewise, her face looked set and abiding a sufficient response. A swirl of words, sounds and thoughts alike invaded what he hitherto termed as his capacity for logic. In spite of himself, he started marveling at her, and at what he believed was her ingenuity to turn things around and keep them from the beaten path. He continued thinking. He thought long and hard of the difficulties he had to carry on with just to hear those words from her. Why did it have to reach the point when he'd have to hurt her, physically? Why ever let such a thing happen? Why grow unsteady just to be held in her gaze like this, like no one else ever was? Why, why be baffled, entranced, fallen…

He edged closer to her bed. He could sense her questioning the movement, but he was there too quickly, too slyly. He found her hand, abandoning reasons for his actions, and held it tightly. She didn't budge, nor ever seemed to respire. In the dark, under a shaft of moonlight, they gradually found what reasons there should be for their succeeding actions. Neither thought of parting with the other for so long as this powerful moment lasted.

And to Ukitake, he knew he had always belonged to this moment; all he really was waiting for, however unconsciously, was her cue.

END