Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Unohana lowered herself to a kneeling position on the deck, Minazuki at her side and a cup of steaming tea in her hand. Her thin sleeping kimono - palest grey with a simple pattern of muted leaves resting over her shoulders, a gift from Isane - did little to keep out the chill in the air, so she wore her Captain's haori over top her steady shoulders and relaxed back. Her feet were bare.
She sipped her tea leisurely, enjoying the warmth pouring down her throat and counteracting the cold. It was nights like this that she loved the most, she decided - nights when the air around brought colour to her cheeks and a soft breeze stirred her hair, loose from it's braid and tumbled softly down her back. Nights that spoke in whispers of sitting alone, or troubled sleep in the arms of another. Nights that made her feel alive.
Her hands trembled in the slightest as she set her empty teacup down beside her, and she folded them in her lap. For once her face was completely at ease. Many outside her division believed her to be a perpetually calm figurehead, a safe haven nestled into the eye of the storm, but her officers knew better. Isane, at least, could read her like an open book - the girl was smart, and far more perceptive than she appeared, but also too diffident to act on anything she noticed. And Hanataro always seemed to know just when she needed a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen.
It was always somewhat of a mystery to her, why her division was so adamant in their adoration. She didn't lavish them with love and friendship, like Jyuushiro would. She wasn't fun like Shunsui. She made it a point to conduct herself with a certain gravitas, a certain decorum. She maintained boundaries and was rarely affectionate - not unkind, but distant. And yet her squad had proven, time and time again, that they would easily got to the ends of the earth and back for her, without a second thought.
A familiar reiatsu shimmered briefly, and she recognized the distinctly halting thumps of Isane's nervous gait. Her lieutenant sat beside her unbidden, and Unohana read in the gesture both a feeling of anxiety and the comfort of infinite loyalty.
"...Taicho?" Isane's voice wavered. "Are... are you okay?" Unohana slanted her head to look into a soft face, plump lips pulled in with concern and grey hair mussed from attempted sleep.
"Yes, Isane. I am fine." Isane glanced at her sideways, jaw clenched.
"You don't look very fine... sorry. That was rude." Unohana lay a gentle hand on Isane's, and her lieutenant immediately grasped it like a lifeline, threading their fingers together. She looked down at their conjoined hands, worrying her lower lip between pearly teeth. "Is this... is this okay?" Unohana smiled at her.
"Yes. It's alright, Isane. It's okay."
