It took Nanao at least an hour of creeping through the woods to reach the city limits, and progress only got slower as she left the shelter of the shady trees. It was still dark out, but the moon cast a silvery glow over Karakura that illuminated too much for comfort. As Nanao stalked between buildings and alleyways, towards Urahara Shoten –east, always east – she tried to concentrate only on her path, but her mind couldn't help but wander to her captain.

It was easy – too easy - to picture the thousand different possible reactions from the man she had left behind. Would he be sad; the light in his eyes dying as he realized that he had been deserted? Or angry, that she had betrayed his trust, his reiatsu spiking and his fists clenching with rage? Nanao hated to picture him upset, but a small, selfish part of her thought that it was rather better than the alternative. It broke her heart to wonder if he had simply accepted it, going back to the division to nap and drink, continuing on with his laissez-faire lifestyle.

"It doesn't matter," Nanao muttered under her breath, quiet even as she forgot the need for silence. "It shouldn't matter."

But the two aren't the same.

Nanao tried to shake her head softly, as though she could ban the thoughts that made her feet stumble and her heart freeze. She was quickly distracted, however, when she tripped over an abandoned trash can in a very un-Nanao moment of clumsiness.

The clanging that filled the small street drowned out her muttered cursing, but not the shrill shriek of the nearby hollow as it flew towards her. Eyeing the beast – small, but large enough to do some real damage to an unarmed soul – fresh oaths left her lips, quiet and steady, as if to replace the kidou that was now out of her grasp.

She was already moving, back through the alleyway she had come from, down a side street, over a fence. The city blurred around her, but without the flash-steps she had come to rely on, Nanao knew it was only a matter of time before the hollow caught up. Indeed, its voice sounded closer, not further, when she slowed to try and gauge the distance. Her only hope would be to try and make it to Urahara before she got caught...

She dashed into a small opening between two houses. Another turn at the end of the passageway, over a bridge, through a small park: it was still gaining ground. This was hardly surprising; what was more interesting was the fact that the small creature hadn't caught her yet. The hollow was surely very young, and foolish, the kind any first year student could take on easily.

A vice captain could practically cleanse this level of soul – for it scarcely deserved the term hollow - with a sneeze, but she was running. This, more than anything yet, made Nanao realize her position, and the finality of it all. Even if she managed to escape this bug, (and she wouldn't), the end had come and gone for her. She was just another helpless soul, and she probably always would be.

Despair pulled her down just before the hollow did, and both her emotions and the pale mask loomed over her, large and insurmountable obstacles. It was kind of poetic, she thought, struggling uselessly against the dark claws that gripped her sides. Like the hollow was the embodiment of defeat or some equally philosophical symbol. Of course, Nanao wasn't really sure how to continue the analogy when the giant mask split cleanly in two, and she found herself fighting nothing more than air. A familiar voice had her looking towards the shinigami responsible.

"Now, I know they were putting students in the field, but they just keep getting more helpless!" Matsumoto tossed her pretty hair over her shoulder and sheathed her long blade. "Drawing your zanpakuto is a good start, hun. Remember that next time." The young woman bent over to offer Nanao a hand, but Rangiku froze in shock when she realized just who she was standing over.

"Nanao?" Matsumoto's voice was quiet, and she seemed uncharacteristically stunned. The silence lengthened, and neither woman was sure where to start. Nanao could hardly blame her, the whole situation was pretty strange; it wasn't often you saw an invalid former vice captain running around a war zone. Her friend always knew what to say though, and Nanao relaxed as Matsumoto winked and hauled her up from the ground. "You better have some really good gossip to go along with this!"

-

Nanao sat quietly, her legs folded neatly beneath her, as she sipped the green tea Matsumoto had poured out for her. The long, low Japanese style table they sat at was in a homey room belonging to the third member of their impromptu gathering, one Orihime Inoue.

Inoue-san had been one of the invading ryoka so many months ago. Although Nanao had never met her, she seemed close with Matsumoto, who apparently slept at the girl's house while staying in Karakura these three months past on the latest mission. Inoue was one of the perhaps three or four humans who remained in the city, which certainly said something about her abilities and trustworthiness.

What it said exactly, Nanao couldn't be sure.

"So, Nanao, how have you been? Last I heard, you were still too sick even for visitors, (which is why I didn't come, did you get my flowers?) let alone to take up missions. I am sooooo glad you're better, of course, – I need someone to go bar hopping with, those clowns from the eleventh are so dull! You should have seen Yumichika the other night..."

Matsumoto continued chattering, filling up the silence with her easy laugh, but all the while watching with shrewd eyes. Something was wrong, and she knew it; however, she also knew Nanao, and the defeated expression on her face demanded that she have some space.

Nanao took another sip of the tea, and welcomed the warmth that seemed to spread to her very bones. She was always cold lately... She returned Rangiku's gaze, eyes narrowing whenever the conversation looked like it might turn back to herself.

Orihime's brow wrinkled in confusion, trying to make sense of the strange tone in Matsumoto's voice as she eyed the silent, shivering new-comer.

"...and then, poor little taichou, he just had to accept the challenge, but he was soooo mad, you should have seen his cute little expression!" Rangiku laughed, and Nanao knew that her moments of peace were suddenly up. Matsumoto's happy tone remained, but now it held an air of seriousness. "But speaking of cute captains and drunken outings, where is Shunsui? He owes me some sake!"

"I imagine the silly man is napping, for all that he should be doing paperwork." She rolled her eyes, hoping she looked nonchalant and confident, for all that she felt the opposite.

Would his new vice-captain be able to find him when he went to the roof for his naps? They really couldn't afford to get behind schedule...

Matsumoto's eyes narrowed slightly, and Nanao knew she hadn't missed anything from her answer: neither the quiver in her voice, or the slightly wistful tone.

"Is that so? He must be worried about you, he doesn't usually send his seated officers into war zones without backup."

Nanao heard what Matsumoto had not said. He doesn't let you go to war zones without him.

There was another pause, and Nanao traced the pattern of leaves on her small cup.

Orihime frowned at them.

"Nanao..." The charade was gone now, Matsumoto finally speaking softly and without jest. Nanao, who had known Matsumoto since their time at the academy together – both children – knew that this seriousness, however rare, was closer to Matsumoto's true self then any of her fake smiles or ridiculous antics. Underneath all the games, she was just like any other young woman from Rukongai; she had suffered, she had loved, she had lost.

She's worried about me...

Nanao sighed: she was such a sucker for Matsumoto's guilt trips. It was easy to defend against the bluster and bravado, but against real concern, Nanao was helpless. It was time to get this over with.

"I'm not a seated officer anymore, actually." Matsumoto's eyebrows went up, her blue eyes wide.

"You resigned?"

"No."

"Promoted?"

"No."

Matsumoto was reaching now, but she tried anyway. "Transferred, then? Did the kidou corps finally get you?"

"The kidou corps doesn't have any openings right now. Plus, the captain is the creepiest person in Soul Society." Only with Matsumoto could Nanao be relaxed enough to refer to her superiors so informally.

Not that it really matters anymore. What will they do, fire me?

"Then you are still his vice-captain. Don't know what you think you did wrong, but he isn't going to fire you... And no one is creepier then Mayuri."

"The Central 46 has already decided, actually. Besides, you need reiatsu to be a shinigami."

They settled into silence again, as Matsumoto quietly sorted through their conversation and the rumours she had no doubt been hearing all week, some obviously more reliable then she had given them credit for.

"You came to see Urahara."

Nanao nodded.

And suddenly Matsumoto was happy and outgoing and herself again, and the grim conversation was done with, and everything became normal again.

"Well, then there's really no problem at all - Orihime can fix just about anything! Except maybe that haircut, Nanao, you really should do something about it! Have you met my hairdresser? He does magic with hair, little place right down by that bookstore you love, maybe you've heard of him? Well, just last month I-"

Orihime blinked, more confused than ever, but glad that both the shinigami were clearly relaxing. Genuine smiles graced both their faces, and she poured some more tea.

-

Shunsui smoothed out the message in his hands again, reread the faint ink.

-I've gone to think about some things, I'll be back later. Don't worry. Nanao.

Don't worry – what a silly directive that was. She could be anywhere, she was defenceless, she was alone. Again, he cast out his reiatsu, looking for some hint as to where she was. After so many years of working with her – of protecting her, of loving her – he had grow attuned to her power signature, could sense it from miles away.

He hated reaching out for her and finding nothing, always nothing. She didn't have any spirit energy to sense, or at least, that was what he kept repeating to himself. It was better than the idea that something had happened...

He shuddered at the thought, and drew his haori closer around his shoulders. Everyone thought his fukutaichou was cold, but without her the office lost its warmth. The pink cloak still smelled of his Nanao-chan, she had worn it last. Had it been only yesterday, that she was in the fourth division?

That she was safe, and with him?

He would have been off looking for her if he could. Any other time, and he would have had all of the eighth looking for her. But the war raged on, and the division – their division – was in shambles. They needed a leader as they pulled themselves together, as they fought the advancing hollows.

With a wry grin, he pulled another stack of documents towards himself, and folded the note carefully before placing it back in his robes. She would come back, (because she had to come back) and she would be proud of his work – just like a real captain, one of those responsible ones she was always nagging him about. Maybe he'd even wear his uniform properly, for the occasion...

Barely a minute later, he put his pen down with a sigh; as distractions went, paperwork sucked. He pulled the note out of his pocket again, trying again to gain some clue to where she had gone.

-

When Nanao woke up the next morning, on a futon in Inoue's small living room, she was hardly surprised to see Matsumoto already gone. They had discussed the details of Nanao's situation in between gossip on the latest Gotei 13 scandals, and decided that the girl would give healing a try after a good night's sleep. Like the small talk of last night, Rangiku had left early to comfort Nanao, to calm her, to make like this was a small matter of little consequence, that there was no doubt in the outcome.

It wasn't working very well, but it was nice to know that she was trying.

"Are you ready?" Inoue-san lingered in the doorway, a cup of steaming tea in each hand, and a sunny smile on her face. "We should probably start early, sometimes healings can take a while, and I've never helped with a problem like this."

Nanao nodded. "Of course. What should I...?"

Inoue knelt next to her, handing her one of the cups. "Here, have some. It always wakes me up in the morning! Anyways, you can just stay lying down, if that's okay with you..."

The young woman folded herself up, pulling her long awkward limbs in until she was sitting cross-legged with her hands in her lap. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and Nanao looked down at the tea quickly. She wasn't quite sure how Inoue's powers worked, but a meditation with one's zanpakuto was a very personal experience. Whatever her equivalent was, Nanao didn't feel right intruding on that.

Or at least, that was why she had started looking at the tea; now she was just curious. Was that orange zest in there? That would certainly wake a person up, yes. And ... leek? Was this why Matsumoto had made the tea last night?

A faint blue glow stole of her, and Nanao looked up from her study of the ... stew, for lack of better term. The strange, pulsing field was roughly oval, all around her body, with two small things on either end – as a child, she would have called them fairies, but she had given up bedtime stories long ago.

She had given up bedtime stories when she had lost someone to read them to her.

"I reject." Inoue's voice was quiet, but strong beside her. What a strangely appropriate phrase, that. 'I reject'.

Not 'heal", not 'correct'. She wasn't trying to make things better, she was trying to refuse, to deny this: as though through sheer force of will, she could discard this reality, could make something better of her own imagining. It took more strength then the young woman let on, to defy the world around her, Nanao could see that; could see how she bit her lip in concentration, her hands shaking in front of her, stubbornly repeating the words every so often when the color started to drain from the blue field or her already pale face.

"I reject." As though she saw all the possible outcomes the world offered her, and chose to decline, waiting for something better.

But do I also reject this?

Did she have the will to refuse this fate for herself?

The answer came with dreadful clarity, as Nanao realized what she had been missing all this time.

For myself, yes; but not for him.

This wasn't a simple case of drained reiatsu. Her power was gone from her, was somewhere else; Inoue could probably bring it back, could probably force the universe to rearrange itself in the way it had been, to reject this reality. But if she had lost her saketsu and hakusei in her taichou, if that had been the price to bring him back, wouldn't reversing the damage also reverse the good?

"I reject," Orihime mumbled again, somewhere far beyond her.

No one else would be affected this way; Inoue had always healed those with injured limbs, with drained energy – had always worked off something that was already there. To take something back from where it was needed wasn't healing but moving... she could see Kyouraku-taichou in her mind's eye, lying on the couch in the office, taking the occasional swig from the nearby bottle of sake; could see him slumping, lifeless, as she took back the last gift she'd given him, as all the energy and power drained out of him.

"I reject."

This was why she couldn't go back. Why Unohana couldn't fix her – Urahara wouldn't be able to either, she knew it with a cold certainty. They could only ever mend broken things, they couldn't grow a new soul chain for her. Not when she already had one, in perfect health, somewhere near Kyouraku-taichou's, keeping his own spirit energy safe and healthy. Unohana had said that, hadn't she? "Both are considered necessary to life in the soul ... That you are still breathing is a miracle in itself." You only needed a seketsu to become a shinigami, but you needed a hakusui to live, in this world or any other known to them. She still had it, which was why she was still alive. Her spirit energy was in Kyouraku-taichou, but it was still hers.

She could take it back whenever she wanted.

"I reject." Inoue's voice was starting to shake now, and Nanao wondered how long they had been doing this for.

Her voice sounded small to her own ears, but Nanao knew there could be no other option. "I accept."

-

It took a few minutes – or hours, or seconds – for Nanao to regain her senses. The blue light faded from her eyes, revealing Orihime, slumped against the nearby sofa.

"Inoue-san, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Nanao-san, I tried, but I can't heal you... I don't know why! I'm sorry, so sorry..."

Nanao felt terrible, watching the teenager fight tears; she obviously blamed herself. The role of healer was difficult, and a younger Nanao had refused it partly because she wouldn't have been able to save everybody. Inoue's powers were vital to the shinigami force here on Earth, powerful and unlike anything in history from before Yamamoto-taichou's time. But power was a difficult thing to bear, what did it cost her, to sit beside the dying and hope that what she did was enough? To be greeted by anxious friends and family, to be told again and again not with words but with heartbroken smiles and tears and silent gestures that she could not fail?

What did it cost her to smile every day, and watch the ones she loved fight, while she stayed behind, hoping that enough of them would be brought back for her to fix?

"It's okay. It's not you, Inoue-san. I just can't accept this healing, I see that now. I'm sorry for making you try." Nanao felt awkward – she wasn't used to comforting others, not strangers. She didn't make people feel better, she listened to their problems and then offered solutions and advice; Inoue's problem had her stumped. "I'm, um, really glad you tried. Thank you."

Another quiet minute passed, with Inoue crying and Nanao wondering if she should offer her a hug, but settled for her usual method of patching up problems among the younger squad members.

"Should I make some tea for you?"

"No, no thank you." Inoue got up, wiping a few stray tears away. "I feel better now anyways – thanks Nanao-san! You should call me Orihime-chan, by the way. Here, I'll go make you some breakfast!" With a bright smile and a flick of her long, bright hair, the girl was moving out of the room.

So the similarities between Inoue-san – Orihime-chan? – and Matsumoto were deeper then the ample chest and the amber hair. They both smiled, and joked, refusing to burden others with their problems. Maybe that's why Nanao felt so comfortable around her, because she was so like her old friend? Well, if she turned out anything like Matsumoto, she would be a very formidable woman in five years down the road.

Nanao felt a little bad for thinking like that - she would never wish Matsumoto's misfortunes on anyone. But if the small shrine in the other corner and the darkness hiding in her eyes were any measure, Inoue had already seen her fair share of hearbreak. Then again, so had Nanao; so had all the Gotei 13.

War was a terrible thing...

Wait, did Orihime say she was going to make breakfast? Another quick glance at the tea-stew had Nanao up and moving to the kitchen.

"It's alright, In-er, Orihime-chan! I'm not that hungry, really!"

AN: So it took forever and a half. Rest assured that I have had good reasons, a myriad of good reasons. And I lost my internet for two weeks. And this might be the longest chapter yet, to make up for it

Sigh, so I keep changing strategies – it's like this story has a mind of its own, because this is totally not where I was going. Plus, I was worried that it was becoming too much like another (much more awesome) story someone is currently writing. Thanks to everyone for your reviews and opinions, you guys are awesome, and my heroes. And awesome.

I hope Nanao doesn't seem to OOC to you guys...she's just in different surroundings, and she's having a tough time right now.

As always, I am a vain and petty creature who needs reviews. And advice, because it doesn't look like I can plan anything out for myself; so send any suggestions or opinions you might have. Did you like it, hate it, or fall asleep?