X (Catch) Me: A nostalgic game of flash tag.

A/N: Apologies for the long wait. This was actually finished a month ago but my beta got busy with school so didn't get around to editing it. And then school kicked my ass so I didn't have time to get this out until now. Thanks for your patience.

Originally written under the Amuse Me prompt but it became a rather experimental piece with too liberal an interpretation of the prompt. Now reclassified.
General prompt: write whatever it is that you wish.

Direct continuation of Offer Me.

Disclaimer: BLEACH belongs to Kubo Tite.

You draw to a stop, hiding. In the thickets of the sakura grove. Not to catch your breath, no. But because, for one terrifying moment, you thought she wasn't behind you anymore.

Why should she chase after you? You berate yourself. Especially not after that tearful confession. So many moons ago.

Who am I? She had asked you that night, broken. Physically, emotionally. Laying her soul to bare under the harsh light of the full moon. Who am I without you?

It wasn't some affectionate declaration, uttered forth, bashful and raw, from her lips. It was an angry, confused exclamation, exploding, bitter and raw from deep within her soul.

Hearing her anguish that night. Knife sharp pains in your heart. The space, missing, where her left arm should be – doesn't even get close to illustrating the space missing in her.

You understand. You do.

You've felt it before – during the century long exile.

Who are you? Without your name, title and rank? Without her to worship you?

Her ache – you feel it in the air, suffocating both of you that night – is so much more. The story she weaved. Of the time apart. Makes you feel like you never really were apart. You filled her thoughts and fuelled her fire. It didn't matter; the hateful spite that tangled itself into her memories of you – it didn't matter.

Not when you plagued her dreams and seeped into her every pore and built into her every muscle and bone.

It wasn't intentional.

You never thought you would leave such a profound mark upon her clear soul. But it doesn't stop you from feeling guilty. As you watched her walk away.

I need to find myself again. She told you, with her back to you, rigid and tense. This time, without you being the reason behind my every action.

So you let her go.

Not realising, at some point, she already took a piece of you. With her.

But she came back, you remind yourself as you wait. Seeking the light hint of her reiatsu. It wasn't a goodbye. Instead, she gifted you both with a new start.

You wait. Because you have more faith in her than yourself. The promise she makes – words made of iron chains – she never breaks.

A change in the air.

Subtle.

You freeze, breathing slow, trying to pinpoint the little burst. Hoping you're not imagining it. Rustling whispers of autumn leaves, the hint of her repressed reiatsu. Stronger now. A calm settles over you - like her presence has always done. Your worries assured.

You meet her halfway. In the open. Your sakura grove – ours – it echoes in your head. The previous wave of turbulence within you, hidden back behind a familiar smirk.

"I see you took your time to change." You call to her first. Her flowing yukata – made of petals of spring – is gone. In place, she wears the Onmitsukidou uniform you designed. With the soft light of dusk bathing her bare shoulders and back.

She looks shy – self-conscious when she needn't be, "I couldn't move properly with that on and we're playing tag so…" Her words drift off into the breeze before she catches herself.

You know she's trying to leave her old self behind. The puppy that followed you everywhere you go. Already, you can feel it fade. Grown and matured into a guard dog – fierce but devoted, nonetheless.

But devoted to whom? You're still afraid to ask. Afraid her answer no longer sounds like the tinkling bells of the wind chime, hanging out your window. No longer ringing your name: Yoruichi-sama

You watch her silvery eyes narrow at you – playful but suspicious. She's probably expecting you to taunt her. Not knowing you stopped running because you were scared she wouldn't follow.

And you don't want her to know – how the mere idea of her fading from your side. Terrifies you.

So you tease her.

"Then, should I expect you to be chasing me properly now? No more excuses, since you're–"

The bare hint of her smirk flashes across your eyes. Smug. But it also happens to be your new favourite. Expression of hers – confidence suits her better than bashfulness. Even though you miss that sweetness – when it was exclusively bestowed upon you.

Warmth surrounds you. Goosebumps rise, betraying you. Giving her a glimpse of you - just you. Like a ribbon, her presence, close. Wraps around you and settle, gentle and calming.

You expect to see her face – nose to nose – a replay of the scene before.

Instead, a familiar tender touch, in the middle of your back. Feather light. But you shiver – sparks running down your spine. A wave of tingles bloom from that spot – like the bloom of her houmonka – erupting from her touch.

You're tagged. This time with less hostile intent. Than the first.

Tickle soft sensations around your neck. Wistfully, you wish it was her arms. But the cold breeze that lands - like a shock of cold water - on your bare neck tells you otherwise. You find her. A safe distance away. Out of reach - ever since she came back - she's been out of your reach.

You watch her wrap your scarf. Around her neck. It suits her, you realise. Trying to ignore the yearning tug of your thoughts - tugging you down a different - unfamiliar - direction.

"Do you remember?" Soi Fon's voice, rich in nostalgia, floats back to you, "When you used to steal Byakuya-taichou's hair ties?"

Of course you do. You remember her. Watching from the rooftops. Watching you - out of her sense of obligations, out of amused interest - you'd never know.

You give her a slow nod, having a feeling that you know where this might be going. That little flutter in your stomach - is that anticipation or is that dread?

A deliciously cocky smirk, spreads across her face - challenging, teasing you. She flickers off, without a word. Leaving an imprint. Of her afterimage in your mind's eyes.

You're rooted to the spot. Dazed. By her strength, her speed. Her. You're still the Shunshin - you can afford a few seconds to be impressed. To realise your roles have somehow reversed now: You're the chaser - she the chased.

When has she gotten so fast?

Nauseating wave of dread hits you - unsettled, unbalanced. You shunpou soon after her - suddenly afraid she'll slip through your fingers. And leave you behind.

Laughter fills the night air. Like fireflies in the twilight of summer.

You chase after her.

Both of your footfalls, nimble and quiet. Relaxed - neither of you in a rush to end the game. You're holding back. Holding back because you actually enjoy the view of her back. Rarely seen for Soi Fon used to follow you. Your back to her.

You wonder - you wonder a lot these days, unsure and a little lost - if you would ever truly live up to her expectations. How do you tell her you're merely... you? Would her eyes lose that reverent glow? When the divine veil shrouding you is cast away. Would she still follow you? When she realises you're a mortal, no different from her.

Whipping of the wind - tousling through your hair - picks up those fragmented thoughts and flings them out. Out of your mind. All you could focus on is the steadiness of your own breath, pounding of your heart. Keeping your distance from her. Yet. Keeping her in sight.

Within reach.

The rings in her braids, catching the moonlight and twinkling coyly back at you. You close your eyes and let her reiatsu lead you. Letting your remaining senses direct you. Having spent the better part of your exile in a feline form, you've learnt to read the smells and sounds of nature.

The drier, sharper smell of autumn leaves. Their crinkling under your feet. A certain - smokier, heavier - smell of the evening. The shimmering ripples flowing through the air.

Your golden eyes open again. Bringing the world back into focus.

And the first thing. You notice is the muscles of Soi Fong's naked back - loosened from its usual stiff tension. Both of you seem to have lost yourself to the carefreeness and gentleness of each other's company. Serene. Relaxed. By the rhythm of your footsteps and the steady - but faint - pulsing of each other's reiatsu.

That's when it hits you and you almost stumble to a stop.

Sometime after your exile, you've already knocked yourself off your pedestal. Soi Fon has probably long stopped seeing you as her goddess, you realise with a slight aftertaste of bitterness. And yet, her feelings for you - her respect, you remind yourself - doesn't seemed to have faded away.

But it's not entirely unchanged. Gone was the idolising of an attainable deity. Gone was the myth of an infallible being. All that's left of you is... just a woman. Powerful in her own right, but an ordinary woman, nonetheless.

With a startling gasp, you finally, finally comprehend the fact. That you've been knocked out of the sky. And from now, the two of you stand. On the same plane.

As equals.

This is it.

Reaching out, you catch her by the hand - fitting right in the gaps, locking - and pull her gently back. The change in momentum spins her around and right into your waiting arms.

Breathless. Breathless but beaming widely at you.

You can feel her pulse - right beneath your fingers - racing, running wild. Still high from the chase. The warm puffs of breath, visible in the coolness of an Autumn night. You're hyper aware of it, feeling it barely brushing your lips. Both of you still, calming your hearts and just settle. Into the space between your bodies - carved out specially for each other.

She's gorgeous under this light - muted and warm. It's not as harsh as the light of a full moon. Not as harsh of that night.

She's gorgeous in every circumstance. But tonight, even more so. Though Soi Fon is in your arms now, the distance between the two of you is still too big. You can feel it - your need for her, your need to close the gap - and it aches and aches. Reverberating through your heart.

She watches you, her silvery eyes careful and alert. Save the soft blush dusting her cheeks, there's nothing to pick up from the passive expression on her face. It used to sort of stab at you, when you first found out how much harder it was to read her. But now... well, she's just a more confident and self-assured version of herself. And it's undeniably beautiful.

You like that - the idea of learning and getting to know her all over again. You want her to know you too.

So you reach out and tug. Tug. Tug the end of your scarf - around her neck - and pull her close. Nose to nose. Close enough to notice the grey specks - scattered like stars - in her blue-grey irises. Close enough to watch the way her tongue pokes out, nervously wetting her lips. You couldn't help but wonder how her lips would feel, how her lips would feel against yours.

You don't stop yourself rushing forward. Pressing a lingering kiss on the corner of her lips. Inking a promise - for now - into her skin. Because it's too early. Still, you want her to know – how you feel – how you want to try – maybe there's an us somewhere down the line.

She understands – of course she does. She gives out a little sigh and you feel her melt. The tension rolling off her in waves and she sinks into you - arms wrapping around your neck at the last minute - her only anchor. Your arms snake around her waist and hold her tight - telling her through your touch. Telling her you won't let go. You won't leave.

The two of you stand there, holding each other close and just. Enjoying. The heat of each other; the softness; the strength. Like in the eye of a storm, you're at the centre, calm. Outside, the world swirls past. It's like the wild winds are whipping and merging your past selves, the present and your future ambitions into one. Hope. And so the rest - irrelevant, unnecessary, burdensome - just dissolve away into nothingness.

All that is left is. A promise of a future. However vague and uncertain it may be.

But with Soi Fon settled so comfortably in your arms, the way she clutches at you - mirror image of the way you're grabbing onto her - tight, vulnerable.

Still, you can feel the small, content smile she's half hiding in the crook of your neck.

Right now, that's enough for you.

A/N: I'd just like to clarify that this is departing from canon after defeat of Aizen arc. I've thrown in quite a bit of my own headcanons in here so I could explore it in later prompts since they're all in the same universe. If there's some parts that sound a bit sudden and unexplained (especially what happened to Soi Fon's arm, what happened in the time-skip and rebuilding/re-establishing the relationship between Yoruichi and Soi Fon), hopefully, I'll get a fill out and explain it there.

I do hope this experimental style wasn't too badly done. I'll probably go back to something less stream of consciousness-y in other prompts. But I think I'll keep Yoruichi's POV in second person. Please leave a comment and let me know how you're liking this style, or if I should continue/discontinue it.

Once again, if you wish to pick/specify a prompt from the list, please visit the link in my profile. I'll try to fit some in. I've got a Nurse Me and Paint Me prompt to fill, so look forward to that. Also, apologies in advance if I take too long to update.

Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading.