He had told her not to come.
She knows that he knows better than that.
But it doesn't matter. She's scared off his would-be bodyguards with less than a look. Her own former bodyguard is thankfully elsewhere, probably stewing at the indignity of being yet again set aside. But she does understand, Yoruichi believes, the importance of her absence.
It's been decades since she has been alone with the white haired man.
He sputters a little, fighting it for her sake, eyes closed as the frail body convulses. He hates her to see him this way.
She knows this and does not care. She lays her hand on his chest despite his feeble attempt to brush her away, feels her own power sharpening itself and digging deep. In his lungs is an angry monster. It snarls at her. Her eyes narrow. "Not tonight," she tells it. It responds by snapping at her hand, producing a wet cough from the white haired man. He holds the handkerchief to his mouth, eyes watering with more than the lack of air.
She shakes her head. Her power uncoils and strikes at the monster, once, twice, one more time before it is still. The white haired man falls back on his bed, gulping the air as if it is trying to escape him. Tears roll down his cheeks. "I'm not at my best today, Yoruichi-chan," he finally sighs.
"Your worst is better than the best of most others, Juu-chan." she smiles at him.
His breathing slows, he closes his eyes. "I don't--"
"I don't care what you want," she says. "I don't care that you're weak. I don't care that you want to give up. I forbid it."
"You can't let me rest?"
"I won't let you rest."
"May I be so insolent as to ask why?" He isn't exasperated, but close.
"Look at me when you're being an asshole."
"Yoru--"
She glares at him.
He sighs. "Yoruichi. A lot has changed. I'm not the same. You are not the same."
"That's rich, to throw me in it. Say it, Ukitake-taichou. 'I feel old and I want to sleep forever because it's too hard to let myself want anything else. Go be with Kisuke, he's the one you left me for.'"
"I wasn't going to say that. Woman, don't you know how cruel you are, to berate a dying man?"
"You're not dying." Her voice is venomous and her eyes are ablaze.
"Yoruichi, we all die." He raises his hand, lays it gingerly on hers. "It's the way things are."
"Fuck how things are. You are not dying, you will not die. You will not go where I can't follow. I will not let you go." She will not wail, she will not rend her flesh. She's too used to having her way for such things. "Swear it."
I won't, his mind says softly. "I swear," his voice says. The sun is coming up, dark and old as he feels. But she will not leave when it comes, not this time. She will stay whether he wants it or not. He almost hates himself for wanting it.
She looks at him hard. "Damned liar." But he knows she doesn't believe her own words. Then she kisses him, tastes the faintness of his own blood on his tongue. It's strangely erotic to him, and it's softer than he expected it to be.
Soft as his mind whispering to him that he's just made a promise he'll eventually break.