Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me.
Author's Note: Please Read, Enjoy & Review.
She sat down stiffly next to her captain and lowered her watchful gaze towards the ongoing match. She and her taicho were perched on the cement shingled roof overlooking the courtyard that had become a mock arena for the inter-division training sessions. The clang of scraping metal rang through the air as a pair of perspiring fighters locked in a stalemate. Caught in a deadlock, they grunted and snarled, each with the effort to overpower the other. The tension in the air was infectious and the audience roared and cheered for their respective teammate. Finally, the smaller fighter shifted and delivered a sharp blow to her opponent's abdomen. As they lost balance, she kicked hard at the centre of her opponent's chest and they fell ungracefully with a thud. She pointed the tip of her zanpaku-tô at his throat, grinning. It was over.
"That's the seventeenth one so far!" Kyôraku Taicho exclaimed. "And he was defeated by a girl. That is unacceptable!"
Nanao Ise, who was seated beside him, stated, "Maybe they're tired, no doubt from the party that took place last night without my knowledge or my permission. Clearly the overdoes of Sake is at fault for their lack of judgement, focus, and power. In giving them alcohol the night before, you basically handed them their defeat today."
Shunsui smiled sheepishly down at his fukutaicho, knowingly guilty of the crime. Recalling last night, the whole division was boisterously boasting about how they would 'cream' the tenth division in the upcoming training session. To the individuals of each division, they took the event as a matter of their division's pride. It was more of a competition, a tournament, than a mere chance to train with members of a different division.
The inter-division training sessions were a rare chance for the soul reapers of each division to become accustomed to fighting others with unique styles and techniques. It was an opportunity for them to study their opponent's strengths and weaknesses and learn what it's like to spar with people that they're not afraid to injure. They get to observe the discipline of other division members and pick up certain useful strategies that could potentially help them in their next battle outside of the Gotei Thirteen.
The Eighth Division usually fared well in these sessions, claiming as many victories as defeats. Even against the battle crazed eleventh division members, they did much better than expected (which was to be slaughtered and completely humiliated). However, this time the soul reapers under captain Kyoraku's leadership were failing miserably in their attempt in keeping up the Division's reputation. There have been seventeen losses out of the twenty battles in the last five hours. And it didn't help his case that the only individuals who were victorious from his division were the ones who didn't drink the night prior. Kyoraku Taicho was becoming agitated, fidgeting with the hem of his pink haori and a pronounced crease between his brows. There were too many people suffering from hangovers that not enough had the sufficient energy to fight.
Even Hitsugaya Taicho, captain of the opposing team, was looking questioningly at the eighth division members as if to say, 'They usually prove to be adequate fighters. Why not now?'
"And if I may add, Taicho, there is no shame in losing to a woman," Nanao said. Her captain looked down to her. "However, what is shameful is watching member of my own division being slaughtered by the opposing team! You should have been more responsible than to allow them to imbibe such a ridiculous amount of alcohol before such an important date."
"But Nanao-Chan," he whined. "It truly wasn't my fault, they—"
Nanao cut him off, determined not to be interrupted. "And the division members of the opposing team are not even particularly impressive, save Rangiku-san and Hitsugaya Taicho. Our members should be relatively even in skill and strength."
Shunsui revert his gaze back to the combat grounds. It was a large square arena with white tiles covering the ground and towers enclosing the space. Another of his members were just defeated, a more humiliating loss than the last as the unfortunate man was carried away on a stretcher to be brought to the fourth division after a battle that lasted a mere seven minutes.
Kyôraku's face suddenly stretched into a smile. Nanao grew uneasy in her seat, anxiously anticipating her captain's new idea. Some could have described it as a 'light bulb moment'. His eyebrows shot up to be hidden by the shadow of his hat. He turned to her, his face ecstatic. In response, she leaned back cautiously, fearing what her Taicho's next words could be.
"Let's give them a little demonstration, a sort of motivation if you will. Our men haven't been too optimistic about this training session since the first few battles. How about we help them a little?"
"And how do you suppose we help them, sir? If I do recall, you were not particularly optimistic either."
He waved off her last comment. "Let us participate in a friendly fight, a spar between taicho and fukutaicho. That should be exciting and we'll put on a show to get our division members encouraged, no, enthused about fighting and take after the examples that their captains set out for them."
"Wouldn't they rather watch their taicho fight the other division's captain? Wouldn't that make them more 'enthused'?"
"Oh but Nanao-chan, they have never watched a spectacular match between the two most skilled in their own division. And I heard from many of the drunk last night—" She gave him a cold glare. "—that they would love to watch a match between the most likely couple of the Soul Society."
She turned her face away, hiding the heat that was rising to her cheeks. "That's preposterous. We are far from the most likely couple," she spat out the word. However, sitting on the rooftop adjacent to the pair, were the captain and vice-captain of the tenth division. Rangiku smiled at her good friend and made a heart shape out of her fingers, framing the man clad in pink and his fukutaicho, unknowingly contradicting her words.
"Well either way, I can almost guarantee that a good fight between the two of us will definitely help lift the spirits of our men. And women." He gave her a smile that even the once-thought-immune' Nanao Ise could not resist.
Nevertheless, she was stubborn and said, "No. I've already fought my appointed match. I need not participate in another." Her true statement made her taicho turn back around in contemplation. She had already fought. Ise Nanao and Rangiku Matsumoto were scheduled to be the first of the sessions as it was traditional to have the assistant captains as the opening match. Nanao had won this one, although at the previous inter-division training session with the tenth, she had lost. However, after the near two hour match, she was doubtlessly tired.
Kyôraku Taicho grinned, another idea forming in his mind. He leaned in towards his Nanao-chan and whispered, "How about we make the match against the two of us more interesting? Raise the stakes a bit?" She faced the arena, pretending to ignore the words that tickled her ear but was obviously intent on listening to his proposition. "What if the victor earns the privilege to demand anything of the other? Is there not something you wish from me Nanao-chan?" He wiggled his eyebrows.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "So, say I want you to do your share of paperwork for at least a month. If I win our match, you are left with no choice but to do as I asked, am I correct?" She gave a slight smile, beginning to see a positive side to her captain's offer.
"I believe that's what I'll owe you if you're victorious, although I don't plan on losing. So…?" He gave her a poor attempt at a puppy dog face, hoping that that would sway her into accepting his proposal.
She looked at him, shaking her head at his pathetic imitation of what seemed to be a constipated pig. She was cautious as to what her captain wanted if he won the match, which was very likely. It was obviously something that she would probably never do under normal circumstances. But this was her one chance to order him around without complaints or any need to use physical force as a method of persuasion. Although the odds were against her, the rule that stated that there are to no shikais to be released in the matches between seated officers higher than the fourth helped even the playing field. Nanao rarely used her zanpaku-tô and rather preferred kidô as she was a master of the art. Her captain on the other hand, was heavily reliant on the power of his duo swords. He was much weakened by the rule which prohibited the release of his zanpaku-tô giving Nanao a greater chance of winning.
"Perhaps we can make this work, so long as the bargain is still in effect. If I win, you are to do your share of work for the remainder of the year—"
"But Nanao-chan, you said for a month—"
"—and there will be no sake in the office until your side of the agreement is completed."
"No sake?" He shrieked in an uncharacteristically high pitched voice. He regained his composure. "That's fine then. I accept your terms. We shall be the next competitors then. I'll go inform the divisions."
"Wait! You've yet to tell me your terms of the deal. What is it you want from me if you win?" Her voice laced with concern.
Just as he was going to jump from the roof, he turned to her, the fox-like grin apparent on his face. "You'll see, my lovely Nanao-chan, you shall see."
"What have I gotten myself into…" she muttered under her breath.
Taicho and fukutaicho stood opposing one another on the smooth white tiles of the arena. Wind whipped around them, their sleeves swaying in the silence. They patiently waited for the announcer; Nanao fixing her clip to perfection and Shunsui playing with the strings of his straw hat.
Finally, a soul reaper from the Tenth division, the sixth seat officer's voice boomed throughout the area. "Here we have an unscheduled match between the Eighth division Taicho, Kyôraku Shunsui and the fukutaicho, Nanao Ise. Let the battle begin!" The audience roared, the volume escalating from the eighth division members.
The two were through with their waiting. They began to move, making calculated steps. They circled around one another like sharks around their prey, each waiting for the other to make the first move. A silence fell on the spectators as they watched in anticipation.
Unexpectedly, a flash rocketed toward the taicho. The energy ball barely missed as the captain rolled to evade the attack. He looked up again, drawing the longer of his two swords, the tachi. They came at each other at impossible speeds. Shunsui skilfully tried to make contact with his fukutaicho as she danced away from his blade. She'd mutter spells beneath her breath and aimed them at the captain. The audience's heads whipped around, their necks straining to follow the pair as they fought around the arena.
Nanao flash stepped towards her captain, trying to find an opening. Finally, as he manoeuvred his sword away after a swing, the energy collected in her hand was thrust toward his unprotected torso. In a desperate attempt to shield himself, he unsheathed his shorter blade, his wakizashi, in defence. The energy force was rebounded off the zanpaku-tô, sending Nanao backwards numerous feet.
The dance continued. They would keep their distance from each other until one moment where they would attack and then retreat back into their previous position and repeat in a cycle.
Kyôraku watched his opponent intently, purely focussed on the opportune time to strike. Then he found it. Nanao's eyes closed for a fraction of a moment as she prepared for another attack. He darted at her at the speed of a bullet, sword at the ready. Her kidô spell missed as he shifted to the side, preparing to attack. He forced his zanpaku-tô down only to be stopped by an invisible shield. Nanao's hands were folded into a familiar symbol as her lips moved in a chant. A barrier completely made of reiatsu surrounded her. Knowing that it was futile to try to cut through, he jumped away to recruit his thoughts.
Nanao began to shunpo around the arena, forcing her taicho to follow. His blade swung at her, only to miss by a faction of a second, destroying the wall behind her. She was running; a tactic only used when one was desperate to form a mental strategy. She knew that Shunsui was superior to her in the ability to shunpo. So she waited it out until the moment when the captain was less than a metre behind her, she turned around and released a mild binding spell. He stayed frozen for a moment, before breaking loose from her hold.
But that moment was just long enough for the vice-captain to move far enough to initiate her plan. Sharp arrows of kidô shot from her hands as if from a crossbow. She shot mercilessly, one after another. Shunsui rolled and dodged, desperately trying to escape unscathed. He felt one pierce through his pink haori and singe his skin. He was at the centre of the white grounds once more, much further from his opponent than before. She ceased fire.
A grin spread across his face. "Now, Nanao-chan, play nice. You know this is my favourite haori."
She shot one last bolt of reiatsu in response. As planned, the captain was taken by surprise. He had just the slightest moment to turn his head as he watched the fatal glow whiz by his face.
The attack missed his body but severed the string of his straw hat. He sighed as he turned back to face her. They were back in their original positions— in the middle of the field facing each other. The arena was silent, the wind carrying his straw hat into the distance.
They stared at one another, their focus solely on their opponent. The tension in the audience was contagious. The pair was circling each other once more; Shunsui's swords were up, one in defence and the other prepared to attack, Nanao's hands ready for another deadly kidô spell.
She leaped, her hands glowing. Kyoraku had his weapons ready. She flash stepped towards him, and released the reiatsu contained in her hand. It shot out like a cannon ball, accurately racing towards her target. The taicho's brows knotted in concentration, knowing that his swords would not completely shield him from the attack. So he threw it. His wakizashi flew towards the rocket of energy, Kyôraku's reiatsu flowing in the blade, and obliterate the kidô ball when it made contact. It continued its course, heading for the fukutaicho. She attempted to dodge, only realizing the projectile weapon a moment too late. The blade struck her hair, destroying her clip that held her raven locks in perfect place. It continued until it crashed into the wall.
"That was my favourite hair pin," she muttered.
The fighting continued as if perfectly choreographed. Each attack was faultless, the defensive manoeuvre equally effective and creative. They would always escape in the nick of time before returning to their former positions, ready to strike again.
"I will make you draw you sword, Nanao-chan. I believe that only certain eyes have ever had the pleasure of seeing your zanpaku-tô." His volume rose as he spoke to the crowd. "Wouldn't everyone want to see it?"
A roar spread through the audience in agreement.
"Sir, there is a reason why I don't rely on my sword and a reason behind its concealment."
"Would you care to share what those reasons may be, lovely Nanao-chan?"
"No, Taicho, only that it is reserved for when it is called for, when I'm in dire need of it."
"Well then I suppose I'll just have to create a moment where it is called for."
He shot at her so fast he was gliding on air. His tachi was held at his side, prepared for what seemed to be an uppercut. She turned around, mumbling a kidô spell. As the barrier was forming around her, her captain struck, threatening to cut her hands. Nanao withdrew her hands to safety but in the process failed to complete her barrier spell. She was vulnerable to another attack. She put up her arms in defence.
The fukutaicho rolled backwards, grasping her arm tightly. A trickle of blood escaped her fingers.
"Oh my dearest Nanao-chan, you're wounded! You need only say the word and I will whisk you off your feet to heal you with my love." His words were light but his expression was concerned.
She growled and lifted herself up from her kneeling position on the ground. She ripped a strip of cloth off her uniform and tied it around her wound. It wasn't deep, but it was long enough to be concerned about infections. She was ready. The dance restarted, the two circling around each other.
Nanao bolted. She ran from her captain, toward the edges of the arena. Like bees to honey, Shunsui followed close behind. His sword swung when he thought he was close enough, but she'd move just in time and then shunpo to the next area. His blade was always a hair's width away from her. She'd run in an unpredictable direction leaving the captain always a step or two behind.
Alas, her fatigue was beginning to show. Her flash-step was not nearly as quick as before and it became increasingly easier to catch up to her before she escaped from right under his nose.
'Oh crap', Nanao mentally screamed as she lost her footing on one of the roof's shingles. The minor lapse was Shunsui's chance to force out her zanpaku-tô and he took full advantage of it. His sword was ready, prepared to strike once more. As she fell, he threaded his blade between her limbs, driving to her throat. She shifted, the blade's target now off. She attempted to evacuate the scene, back to the centre of the ring. However, in the process, Kyôraku's blade got caught in the collar of her uniform, pushing into her shoulder. She winced in obvious pain before retreating to the middle of the white showground.
One of her hands covered her shoulder's wound while the other was by her side, ready to initiate a kidô spell. He followed her back to the centre, his feet gracefully landing on the ground.
He tutted quietly. "Your zanpaku-tô, Nanao-chan." He called to her.
She ignored her taicho. Determined, she sprinted to the furthest corner. Rolling his eyes, he followed obediently, sword in hand. His eyes followed her lips as she silently mouthed her next spell. Shunsui groaned, before flash-stepping towards her. He swiped at her. Yet again, he missed. His blade caught on the cement wall, tearing a complete portion off the corner.
"Perfect," the fukutaicho whispered. Her hands shot out as she shouted out the final words of her kidô spell.
The ground began to glow, a pattern sticking out from the white tiles like neon lights against the night. A six pointed star shined a dangerous red, the two of them now in its centre. The glow intensified. Every spectator covered their eyes from its blinding brightness. There was a flash, the light enveloping the fighting pair as well as the whole crowd of spectators. And then, an explosion.
The silence was deafening. The audience from both divisions blinked and looked around, searching for the two highest ranking eighth division officers amidst the smoke. They all stood in anticipation with their breaths caught in their throats. As the grey fog began clear, a lump of a shadow became visible.
In a blink, the fog split like the red sea as Kyôraku's sword swung down, implanting several inches into the cement. The blade was rooted a mere centimetre from Nanao's throat while her captain was draped across her body. Shards of cement wall scattered around the pair as he covered her smaller figure. His white captain's coat shielded them both from the audience providing them a moment of intimate privacy. A smouldering pink haori floated off in the distance.
Thankfully, Shunsui was much better off than his beloved haori. His hair was scorched, as were his eyebrows. The majority of his uniform was either burnt, brown, or covered in dust. Even one of his sleeves was burnt off. His skin was covered in blisters and cuts. Yet somehow there was still an apparent smile on his face.
"I knew you wouldn't do it," he playfully mocked her from his position above her. "You love me too much don't you?"
She turned her face away from him, scowling both to hide her blush and the undeniable fact that his words were true. The spell that she used was deadly; it encaged their victims in an indestructible inescapable prison before shrinking into oblivion. Even the almighty eighth division captain wouldn't be able to escape such a powerful attack. But to his benefit, his fukutaicho was aware of this fact too. Last minute, she grabbed her captain and shot what remaining reiatsu she had left into the ground, giving them enough force to move out of the main focus of the kidô spell. They had barely escaped; the corner of the building falling victim to the vicious attack rather than the two competitors.
Now they lay on the ground, one on top of the other. Shunsui looked down at his beloved Nanao-chan. Her hair was dishevelled and dirt covered her pale face yet she looked beautiful all the same. He lowered himself, leaning closer to her ear.
His lips grazed her skin as he spoke. "Well, my clever Nanao-chan, I do believe that I've won." He was grinning. One arm was supporting his weight, careful not to burden her with an extra hundred ninety-one pounds, while the other was holding the hilt of his zanpaku-tô.
Her face was contorted into a mixed expression; partially shock, realization, anger, and defeat. She sighed and turned to face him, forcing him to raise his head in order to look at her.
"So what is it you want from me?"
"Ah, I'm so glad you remembered!" His faced softened and his eyes shrouded in desire as he whispered, "Nanao-chan, I am positive that you know very well what I want."
Her eyes widened at the implication. She's always been aware of his constant flirting but never knew that he would voice his wants so bluntly. Then again, her taicho was probably the boldest man of the entire Seireitei.
Noting her body tense and the shock in her face, he chuckled.
"That isn't what I meant. As much as I want you, Nanao-chan, I would never ask you of that against your will. But I have no shame in asking for a kiss. And maybe even a simple evening with you, a dinner that we could enjoy together. I'd even cook for you myself if it meant getting one step closer to winning your heart." He looked at her with those sad sweet eyes and she reddened. Despite her consistent rejections, she could no longer deny that she found her captain's capricious, and often silly behaviour endearing.
She rolled her eyes. "Dinner with the soul society's most promiscuous man," she pondered over the not-so-wild idea. "That is definitely something I would not do willingly, especially if you cook it yourself."
"You wound me." He dramatically put a hand to his heart. "I'll have you know that you have just insulted the fairest chef of our world. And criticizing my food before tasting it yourself! That hurts, Nanao-chan." She noted that his hand released his weapon to clutch the centre of his chest. "But now, whether you like it or not, you simply must try my cooking. An evening with me and a kiss are my wish, my side of our wager." He leaned in, preparing for his well earned kiss.
Nanao turned her head to the side, preventing his lips from reaching hers. They landed on her cheek.
He whined, "Nanao-chan, you agreed that the one who lost would have no choice but to follow the victor's orders."
"Yes, but it seems that you are not the victor." She smirked, looking down towards their nearly touching torsos. In her hand was a short sword, the tip pointed at his heart—her zanpaku-tô. Her violet-blue eyes gleamed under the bright noon sun, victorious. Shunsui reluctantly eased off her and his captain's haori slid off his back. The pair of them were now completely visible to the crowd. He sighed again, but this time in defeat.
In the background, the tenth division announcer yelled, "Nanao Ise, the eighth division fukutaicho is the victor!"
She pushed him off her, standing up again. She looked down at her captain as she sheathed her sword.
"You know what I want, taicho," quoting his words. "I expect you in the office tomorrow morning at eight."
With that, she left. She picked up her fallen vice-captain plaque and restrapped it onto her arm. She brushed her clothes off and with a pin she took out from the inside of her uniform, she redid her hair into a tight bun. He watched her retreating form, running a calloused hand through his hair thinking of how truly their match reflected their relationship. She constantly ran and he never failed to pursue. Smiling, he wondered what it would be like to finally catch her. Their game was lengthy and taxing, but he was certain that he wouldn't stop until he was victorious. He was a man in love and who was he to deny another wise man's words?
Chase your passion.
Author's Note: My first Bleach fanfiction! Constructive criticism is warmly welcomed. Thanks and please review. The 'wise man' whose quote I borrowed is Denis Waitley.