"Sorry, what?"

I had been distracted by the small box covered with shiny red paper. Why he would give me chocolates when he knew I disliked sweets . . . teasing, it must be. Kurosaki had always laughed whenever Ukitake shoved candy at me, and had decided to take over the role of my tormentor. One hand swept the box off the desk and into the trash bin with the other offerings, mostly from new members of the division who didn't know any better.

His eyes followed the motion; he stepped forward to look over the edge of the desk, staring at the bin. I expected him to laugh, but he looked a bit ill.

"Um, okay, that happened . . . so, dinner, with me, sometime this weekend maybe?"

"You're welcome at the dining hall, of course. Standard dinner hours are seven to nine."

"Yeah, thanks. But that's not quite what I had in mind."

A few seconds of silence and the tone of his voice started to sink in, disappointed, maybe a little exasperated. I ran back over his words and couldn't see a reason for him to be upset. I wanted to ignore him, it wasn't my job to babysit him anymore, and trying to figure out what he wanted was far more effort than it was worth. Sometimes I regretted not flat-out baring him from the Tenth after the war. At the time, being hospitable was definitely the right thing to do, the very least I could do. But it would be a good deal less noisy around here if he had continued to harass his friends in the other divisions instead of heading straight for the Tenth every time he dropped in.

And yet, the powers that be had asked all of us to treat this kid with kid gloves. Hero of two major wars, powerful as most if not all captains, and still human. If he ever turned on us, he'd be one hell of an enemy. And if anything else threatened Soul Society in his lifetime, we might need him once again. If it weren't for that, I would have chased him out of my office and my division a long time ago. But no, I put up with him showing up uninvited, hanging around for no purpose, adding yet another disruption. So, I swallowed the sigh that wanted to escape, and looked up.

"And what did you have in mind, Kurosaki?"

He didn't look angry. No, he suddenly looked nervous, rubbing the back of his neck before turning back toward me.

"Well, Ran mentioned a couple of good restaurants. Or there's a great spot in Karakura if you wanna get out for the night. There a decent band playing Saturday if you want. My treat."

An almost imperceptible flinch surprised me enough to erase my scowl. Normally, I couldn't care less if someone mistook my confusion for anger. This human, however, didn't flinch at anything, faced down gods and devils without a second of hesitation. To see him nervous and touchy only added to my perplexity, and I stared at him, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

Definitely exasperated. "I'm asking you out to dinner, Toshiro."

"That's Hitsugaya-taicho," I snapped, growing exasperated myself. "And in case you weren't aware, the taicho part of that means that I am very busy, all day, every day. I don't have time for frivolous activities, just as I don't have time for pointless conversations."

My eyes went back to my desk, back to the report due in less than an hour, but not before I saw the look on his face. Why? Why did he look like I had just told him his puppy died? It was only the truth. A truth he should have known, that we can't all be insanely powerful and completely without any responsibilities. Besides, what sense did it make, traveling for dinner when the food here was perfectly acceptable, free, and fast?

"Okay. Got it. Sorry to bother you."

I mumbled a farewell, relieved when he left without any more nonsense. His very presence irritated me, made it hard to concentrate. It most certainly had nothing to do with the way I found myself staring at him, studying his peaceful features when he napped uninvited on my office couch, or the strange agitation I felt when his reiatsu appeared in Seireitei, loud and inescapable, ensuring I couldn't get anything done as I watched the door for his inevitable arrival. No, I was only irritated by the waste of time.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

"What did you do, taicho?"

I kept my attention on the sparing Shinigami in the arena, keeping a running list of issues to point out to the officers. Whatever Matsumoto was going on about this time, it wasn't as important as this. Take away the training, and her ranting still took second stage to the perfection of the morning, still cool and the light soft through broken clouds, I was tempted to just lie back on the slope and stare at the sky for a few hours.

"About what, Matsumoto?"

"What did you do to Ichigo?"

Sigh.

"Glad to see you showed up for training, Matsumoto. The third squad needs a lot of work. Just look at that pair, complete lack of fundamentals, whacking at each other like kids with sticks."

"I'm serious, taicho. All that kid's been through, he never stopped. But whatever you did or said really shut him down, like the light's just gone out. So I want to know, you have to tell me what you did to him."

"Matsumoto!" I snapped at her. "I haven't done anything to that annoying human, and I resent the implication."

"That can't be true." I scowled at the interruption, the accusation that I was lying. "What exactly happened?"

"I don't have time for this."

"Taicho! Please."

I stared at the drifting clouds, suddenly feeling just as rootless, just as distant. It wasn't the first time that other people's reactions made me question my own understanding. I usually let it go, let it drift by and the world, the sky, life would continue. Yet for some reason there was a gnawing in my chest. I had watched Kurosaki give everything when he owed nothing, watched him survive the consequences, the depression and self-doubt. Every time, he rose stronger, brighter, blindingly brilliant like a phoenix from the ashes. I never intended to hurt him, couldn't understand what I had supposedly done or why it mattered to him what I did or said.

Matsumoto was practically my antithesis, at least when it came to human interaction, and work ethic, and discipline . . . point was, she obviously saw something I was missing. For once, I cared, and she might be the key to figuring out why.

"If he is upset, it is hardly my fault. All I did was tell him the truth for the millionth time, that I don't have time for his silliness, his constant interruptions, and especially I don't have time for things like trips to the Living World just to eat."

"He asked you out?"

"What? He wanted to go get dinner at a restaurant and to see some band perform, for some reason. I told him the mess hall was open, but I couldn't spare time for something like that. And he left."

"Oh, dear. Well, that explains it."

"How does that explain anything?"

She looked down on me with that expression like pity, poor taicho just doesn't get it, doesn't have a clue. I hated having to swallow my pride yet again in hopes of getting an answer when it would probably be useless, just so much emotional trash.

"Taicho, have you never been on a date?"

I stared.

"A date. You know, two people spend time together, hopefully like each other, maybe become a couple. Dating, taicho."

"I know what dating is, Matsumoto. Why are you asking . . . no. No, you've got to be joking."

Suddenly, all those drifting clouds settled in my stomach, while me feet, thank God, felt like lead. I took a deep breath, trying to banish the weird feeling, suspecting it was a sign of something I really did not want to deal with. I couldn't possibly like the idea that Kurosaki was so damned annoying because he was attracted to me. Impossible.

"You thought he just spent his free time hanging out in your office for what? The honor of watching you work? He's been trying to tell you he's interested in you ever since we went to Karakura, and he finally came right out and asked you on a date. Tell me, were there chocolates involved?"

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Oh, dear," she mumbled again. "Valentine's Day, taicho. You've heard of it?"

"For the love of . . ."

"Exactly! You didn't just say you didn't have time, did you?"

Impossible. It didn't make any sense. He was human, he was young, he was a he. And what the hell could he see in me that made him think of a possible romantic relationship? My warm personality? How much fun I was to be around?

What did I say, exactly? I said what he was asking for was frivolous. And I said our conversations, a few minutes here, a half hour there over months, were pointless. They weren't pointless, some of them anyway, yet I didn't lie. I suppose I could see my fault. Had I realized the emotional import, I could have been kinder. Perhaps the next time he came around I could apologize and explain. What did people say in such situations? It was impossible.

"That idiot. We're Shinigami. This life is about duty. Even if we had time for such things, he's a human. How would he expect such a relationship to progress when he will die in less than a century?"

"Huh?" I winced. I really hadn't meant to say such things out loud. "Are we living in the same place? You do realize just about everyone has a boyfriend, a girlfriend, everyone dates. Well, not you, obviously. And why should mortality matter? We all live by the sword."

Alright, that last was a fair point. It didn't change the rest, I didn't have time, he wasn't a good match if I even wanted one which I didn't, I wasn't interested.

"Live by the sword. Not for long if we can't fix this squad. So, enough time wasted. Get to work."

"You didn't mention whether you actually like him? Or if it bothered you that he's male."

"Because those things do not matter. I have no intention of dating or anything else other than turning these buffoons into soldiers. Now, are you going to help, or should I look for a new lieutenant while I'm down there?"

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

The problem with peace was that it was just too damned peaceful. I shouldn't feel this way. I should be grateful. It wasn't that I wanted another fight. No, I'd had enough of failure, enough of trying to fill vacancies left too suddenly, enough of staring at allies as they wept beside cold stone memorials, enough of nightmares.

The problem with peace is that I had too much time to think. When every moment wasn't an emergency, there were too many moments when I could notice things, feelings, people I had been able to ignore. And I had gotten very good at ignoring all kinds of things during one crisis after another.

"Need a drink, taicho?"

I stopped idly glaring at the paper in front of me, and actively glared at yet another downside of peace. When war threatened, Matsumoto was at least manageable. Even she could not be entirely lazy when each day could be our last, each moment so critical to success or failure. Now, however, she regressed to the flighty, irrepressible, and irresponsible excuse for a second that had always kept me on edge. At least her invitation to drink was not accompanied by an actual bottle in hand . . . this time.

"No, I do not need a drink, and neither do you. Sit down, be silent, and do your work."

"Well, someone's in a mood. What, was he here again?"

"Reports, Matsumoto. Before dinner or you will be working until midnight if I have to personally close down every bar in Seireitei."

She pouted, I scowled, she flounced over to her chair in a dramatic huff. Sometimes, I found our routine a bit comforting, the solid sign of normalcy. This was not one of those times.

"Guess that answers that question."

I went back to ignoring her. If I was lucky, it could be as much as an hour before I had to go through the same damn argument again. If unlucky, maybe ten minutes. Rustling of papers, faint sighs and groans from across the room, the sound of productivity, such as it was, soothed my nerves for a while.

"Say, taicho, why don't you just invite him to stop by? I mean, if it bothers you so much that he comes to Soul Society and doesn't visit you anymore, maybe he's just waiting for you to take the initiative."

Unlucky it is. No surprise.

"You could at least get him something for White Day. I'd say skip the sweets and go straight for the sweets. Something in white silk, skimpy, a bit of lace maybe."

"What the hell are you even talking about? Just do your work and mind your own business."

As if I didn't know what she meant. I didn't look up, certain she would be watching for a blush at her risque suggestion with a smugness that would make me seriously consider kicking her out of the office, which was exactly what she was angling for. The worst part was that I couldn't deny I had been thinking about it. Not the . . . lace . . . but I had been fighting off thoughts of Kurosaki, and what it might be like to spend time with him in a different way. It irritated me, after months of trying to get Kurosaki to stop "popping by" the Tenth unannounced for no reason that he could explain, now I was twice as irritated that he'd just stopped.

Shouldn't I be relieved? I was, at first. When I had heard that the substitute Shinigami had spent a weekend visiting his friends and I had been none the wiser, I had spent an entire day smiling and humming to myself. Finally, no more pointless questions, no more unreliable gossip at the top of his and Matsumoto's lungs, no more random invitations to do things I had no time to do, no more relentless teasing by my disloyal lieutenant after he left.

"Taicho, really, just admit you miss Ichigo. I know for a fact he misses you. He asks about you all the time."

"What is there to miss? Have you finished the training schedule for next week?"

Sure, he asked about me, like I'd believe that. It wasn't like I had locked the gates of the Tenth, he could ask about me here if he was the least bit interested. I sighed. That wasn't true. He was just doing what I told him to do, leaving me alone. And that was exactly what I wanted him to do. Right?

"Already on your desk, taicho. See, we're ahead! Come get a drink with me."

I ignored that, found the schedule right in plain sight, and stared at it without seeing it at all. Sorry state of affairs when one wishes for another war just so one doesn't have to think about stupid shit one doesn't understand.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

Traveling back with the trainees was slow, but worth it even if it did kill the last of the day. It wasn't like I usually went to bed before midnight, anyway, and the squad had done a fine job on their first patrol so it was an easy reward for them. There was still some activity in the division, and I walked to the office the long way just to keep an eye on things. I felt his reiatsu everywhere, so pervasive that it was very difficult to pinpoint his location. Then I heard his voice a second before he stepped backward out of a hallway right into my path, my delayed reaction running me right into him.

"Yeah, thanks Ran! See you in . . . oof! Toshiro?"

For one second his hand wrapped all the way around my arm to steady me, and I shuddered. There was no way to deny the leap in my pulse, and it wasn't just surprise. Had he always smelled like cedar and rain?

"That's Hitsugaya-taicho. Can't you at least look where you're going, idiot?"

I expected some snarky comment about not seeing me, implied joke about my height. Or a feisty retort that I ran into him when I was looking, so which one of us was the idiot? When neither came, I looked up, anger momentarily derailed by confusion. He was looking to the side, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

"Yeah, sorry. Excuse me. Have a good night."

And he was stepping around me, all trace of the humor and energy from seconds ago gone. I scowled at his retreating form. Guess I didn't have to worry about him trying to get on my good side anymore. Why, why, why the fuck did that piss me off?

"Oh, taicho. Why do you do this to yourself?"

Derailed again, I whirled to glare at her, registering automatically that she was drunk. Fine, I suppose, it was off hours and we were, in fact, right in front of her rooms.

"What?"

"For a genius, you sure can be thick. Is it that you refuse to admit it, or are you really so deluded that you don't know you're attracted to him? Could even be love someday, taicho, and you're just letting it slip right through your fingers."

What? Ridiculous.

"Good night, Matsumoto."

I stalked passed her and toward my quarters, trying not to feel like someone had just knocked all the air out of my lungs, replacing it with the scent of rain in the forest. Preposterous woman and her overblown romantic notions.

"Some of us would kill for that chance."

Her whisper was mournful and accusing, and I swallowed the impulse to scream at her that she knew nothing about me or my feelings or anything at all, for that matter. She was drunk. She wouldn't remember any of it tomorrow. I would.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

Somehow, against all logic, I found myself distracted even more when Kurosaki wasn't around. I could feel his reiatsu when he arrived, still automatically counting in my mind. Four minutes, about twenty seconds usually between the time he stepped through the Senkaimon and the time he stepped through my office door. It had been weeks, and I kept waiting to get used to it, to stop the countdown.

I couldn't lie anymore. There was still that nervous anticipation that I had once convinced myself was dread of the coming interruption. Only now it was quickly followed by anger at myself for both feeling that way and for destroying any chance of him actually walking through that damned door, and then bitter disappointment. The entire time his unrestrained reiatsu was detectable I couldn't concentrate on anything as simple as paperwork.

As if she knew when he would be in Soul Society, Matsumoto managed to be in the office or with me at training each time I felt him arrive. I couldn't escape without knowing I was causing suspicion. So, there I would be, trapped and trying to focus while I wondered if today he would at least stop to greet Matsumoto, wondered what he was doing, who he was visiting. It was miserable.

Worse, I had caught myself thinking of Kurosaki even when he wasn't around. Thoughts that had started fairly innocently had become anything but appropriate. Then the weather turned with the warming afternoon, snow turning to rain, sun warming the cedars in the courtyard. It was terrible, only reminding me of his scent, and how solid and warm he had been in that brief second. Which led to thoughts I'd never had about anyone, never expected to have about anyone at all, thoughts like would his skin taste like rain, would that big hand feel as firm and secure if it were wrapped around a part of my anatomy that had chosen a horrible time in my life to start making demands?

"No, Ichigo said he's busy, he won't be there."

"Jeez, I haven't seen him for weeks! I wanted to give him these cookies for Orihime for White Day. She gave everybody such . . . interesting chocolates."

Interesting. Matsumoto had shown me hers. Salted caramel and milk chocolate . . . with miso, dark chocolate coated cookies . . . covered with togarashi. I shuddered and grabbed another form, keeping my head down and trying to work. It's an office, dammit!

"Rukia will be there, obviously. She'll surely be visiting Karakura, give them to her."

"Oooh! You think that's who it is? Orihime? They'd be such a pretty couple!"

It was annoying that my office seemed to be the meeting place for Matsumoto and all her friends. But I couldn't really complain when it was my sister this time. Momo's involvement was the only reason I paid a little bit of attention to the chatter of the four women, not the topic. I even lied to myself about that.

"No, It can't be anyone in the Living World. His sisters said he's gone like all the time. Whoever he's seeing, it's gotta be someone here."

For crying out loud. Matsumoto and Kotetsu Kiyone I could understand. Ise Nanao and Momo, well, I had thought better of them than indulging in flighty gossip.

"Well, he's certainly being secretive. How he's managing to avoid the entire SWA, well, he should join the Second."

Good. That was good. If Ichigo had found another Shinigami to drag into an inappropriate relationship, then I didn't have anything else to worry about. I did feel a little guilty for never apologizing. That must be what was causing the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. It couldn't be regret, couldn't be jealousy. Dammit, just the thought of him touching someone else the way I had started imagining him touching me . . . oh, god, and that meant someone touching him, someone who wasn't me. What the hell was wrong with my brain?

"We'll catch him, just a matter of time. That's one lucky girl . . . or guy, I suppose. Can you imagine?"

"Can I? I made a few passes at him myself. He strong, good-looking, fun, but most importantly loyal. What I could do to that boy . . .."

Yes, he was all those things. Not to mention dependable, kind, honest, and willing to do anything for what was right. Not very respectful, but youth and earned pride caused that. Kurosaki would be a good match for just about anyone, come to think of it.

And he had once thought of me. And I had ruined it, too certain that such things as relationships were impossible for someone like me.

"Wow, Rangiku, I can't believe he turned you down."

"Ha! I didn't stand a chance. He was head over heels for . . . someone else."

Was. For someone like me. Someone oblivious to anything except work and duty. Someone frigid in more ways than one, never even noticing that I was the only one around me not making room in their life for a little comfort and support, a little excitement and passion. For God's sake, I had dealt with Matsumoto's cursed romance with Ichimaru for how long? On second thought, that only helped me think it was right to not get involved with another person.

"Really? Who was it, maybe that's who . . ."

No! I would never hear the end of it if Momo found out.

"Matsumoto! If you're leaving early, again, at least drop these at Division One on your way."

"You should come with us, taicho. It would be good to get a break from the office."

"Someone has to do the work around here. I don't have time to . . ."

"Now hear me out, taicho. You think we get this dolled up for a night at the bar? It's not even noon. Even I have my standards. Besides, your big sis is too respectable for that, you know."

"It's a party at Kuchiki Manor, Shiro-chan. I know you were invited; all the captains were."

"Oh, he throws every invitation right in the trash. I'm amazed anyone sends them anymore. Come on, taicho, at least put in an appearance. You've been cooped up here all winter, and this kind of thing is good for your reputation."

"No means no, Matsumoto. Now, please leave so that I can have some peace and quiet."

Finally, my space was emptied of noise. But not of their presence, perfume and ribbons, makeup containers, and there, on Matsumoto's desk, a white and silver wrapped box of cookies. I sighed and picked it up. Momo would be upset, unless I delivered this to Kuchiki Rukia for her.

I had been chastised for not showing up at the New Year celebration at Division One. And the sotaicho's birthday party. And just about every other gathering I wasn't under direct orders to attend. Besides, I didn't think I could concentrate on work, maybe a break wasn't a bad idea. Kuchiki always had great food, perhaps the roiling in my stomach was just hunger and not a sick combination of sorrow and envy. It couldn't hurt to just spend an hour, surely, and they said Kurosaki wouldn't be there.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

Spring was early, not even waiting for the end of March. Even though spring marked the end of my favorite season and the approach of hell, also known as summer, I couldn't help but love the cool evenings and the life bursting free in bright colors and heavenly scents. While I preferred the forests of autumn, meadows of wildflowers and blooming underbrush, there was a definite appeal to the tended gardens and barely budding trees surrounding Kuchiki Manor. But there was much more on offer, indoor formal gardens already bursting with color, beautiful herbal gardens, even a massive greenhouse sporting tropical plants seen nowhere else in Soul Society.

Kuchiki Rukia was playing hostess, so surrounded by people that I decided to wait and try to give her the box after enjoying the food. Abarai was a massive shadow lurking behind her everywhere she went. Matsumoto, of course, always ended up with a half dozen admirers vying for her attention, including the persistent Hisagi. But that wasn't all. It was as if I'd had my eyes closed for years. Everywhere I looked, Kuchiki Byakuya with a noblewoman at his side and others trying to catch his eye, other nobles in couples or in little crowds around an eligible lord or lady, similar but less formal flirting between Shinigami. Evidently, I was completely wrong in thinking there was no place for such things as all this took place under the watchful and often participatory eyes of the leading authorities in Seireitei.

Lost in my own thoughts and observations, I wandered from the ballroom through the gallery slowly, surprised to find myself enjoying the careful luxury, the lack of anything useful to do, and even the brief, polite conversations as shocked guests noticed me drifting about like a wraith. Some seemed genuinely pleased to see me, including the Kuchikis. I had even heard one of them bragging, as if tempting me out of my division was some kind of prize or compliment.

"Taicho!"

I turned away from contemplating a lovely arrangement of early azaleas leading down to a small, bamboo-framed pond in one of the indoor garden areas. The drooling lieutenant of the 9th broke away after a brief look at me, still wary after the dressing down I'd given him following a drunken night that ended with him mostly naked in my office of all places. The truly amazing thing? It wasn't the first time. And the woman to blame for it was striding toward me with a wide smile, a bottle, and two glasses.

"Why are you all the way out here? They just started the buffet. Well, we should give it a minute and let the line die down, eh? Here. Now, now, it's rude to refuse, taicho. It's champagne! It's weak stuff, don't worry, you can drink a ton of it. Hell, it's practically water. Bubbly, wonderful water."

The days were long gone when I tried to get a word in edgewise, when not in my haori, anyway. She looked stunning, as always, eschewing the soft spring colors many wore in favor of vibrant green like new leaves. I eyed the pretty, delicate glass full of fizzy gold. She downed a full glass in a couple of gulps and had probably been drinking non-stop but didn't seem drunk, so it was probably safe to take a polite sip. Or two. It was surprisingly pleasant.

"We need to go shopping. Although, you do have nice ankles."

"Like hell I'm letting you spend my money again."

My ankles barely showed, and it was the longest kimono I owned. It seemed like the long-awaited growth spurt was going to break my purse as Matsumoto insisted on shopping every time I gained a half inch. Better to just stop buying anything until my body decided to get it over with. I'd be happy . . . ecstatic if I could just get my head above breast level.

"Say, taicho, have you seen Momo? Izuru's getting frantic, poor thing. Probably crying in a corner, ruining everyone's fun by now."

"Kira? What does he have to do with Hinamori?"

She snickered as she filled my glass despite it being barely touched. Just an excuse to fill her own.

"Forgot who I was talking to. You didn't know he fancies her? Has for ages."

No. Nope. Not happening. That fool was another one of Matsumoto's drinking buddies, another one I had found sprawled on my office floor several times in nothing but fundoshi. Momo had come so far, but she was still emotionally fragile. The last thing she needed was a morose, alcoholic suitor who was equally traumatized and would no doubt want to cry on her already burdened shoulder.

"And how does Hinamori feel about this?"

Maybe . . . definitely it was not my decision to make. But I'd damn well have something to say about it.

"Hmm? She's lightened up a bit toward him since the whole Quincy thing."

I glared at her. The whole Quincy thing? Then again, being flippant was a trademark way Matsumoto dealt with terrible events. She was unaffected by my anger, anyway, filling the glass I had drained.

"She could use a distraction, taicho. Izuru's harmless enough."

"Harmless? I think not. You say she's lightened up, what do you mean?"

"Well," she pursed her lips and looked at the gilded ceiling like she didn't know exactly what she was going to say. Really, why did I put up with her? "When she was still hung up on you-know-who, she was pretty blunt about putting Izuru off. The Quincy War seemed to get her over it. People get lonely, taicho, especially after something like that. Lately, she's been more tolerant, but still tells him no every time."

"Every time? Matsumoto, is he harassing her?"

"Eh? Harassing is a strong word, taicho. He doesn't ever touch her or say lewd things, just keeps trying to get a date. And he hangs around her like a little lost puppy, kinda like my cute little Shuhei. You know men, can't seem to take the hint and just leave us alone."

Aware of how harshly my teeth were grinding together, I took another drink to force my jaw to loosen, forced my hand to loosen before I crushed Momo's cookies to powder. Killing a lieutenant would likely get me in some trouble, but I would make certain that he never approached her with an unwanted advance again.

"Men aren't like that, Matsumoto. Scum are like that. It isn't hard to be a gentleman. Just look at Ichigo. I told him no, even if I didn't know what I was saying. Do you see him stalking me?"

"Why no, now that you mention it."

Eyeing her as she filled our glasses again, I looked for any mockery. Once more I had just blurted out something I didn't mean to say aloud. But she must not have caught it, the little implication that I would have said something very different if I had just understood what he was offering. I took another drink, worried my moment of embarrassment might be too obvious.

"But then, Ichigo was always an odd one. Can't go judging all men by his standard."

"And why not? I would never push my attentions on someone when it wasn't welcome. I daresay our host has never done so, either. Can't say the same for our illustrious leader."

Her laugh was one of the best things about her, like bells ringing clear and high. I sipped again, wondering what she found so amusing but trying hard not to let my temper get the better of me. How talk turned from the distasteful flirtations of Kira to comparing the cad to Kurosaki, I didn't know. Wait, it was my fault, I was pretty sure. Damn the human anyway for always getting into my head.

"You make my point, taicho. There are ordinary men, and then there are ones like you and Ichigo. Oh, speak of the devil!"

Unmistakable, the untrained reiatsu heavy as the floral perfumes thick in the air and just as enticing. When had I stopped being offended by his lack of courtesy and started soaking in that undisciplined aura? If I looked past the anxiety and regret, let myself just relax, why did it feel like stepping into a warm bath, comfortable and secure? That was not a feeling I was used to, either one, comfort or security.

Devious woman poured another glass. I let her, vaguely aware that I had downed at least three glasses and should not be taking another sip. My voice was quiet and even as I forcibly brought useless emotions back under my control.

"You said he would not be here."

"I wasn't lying if that's what you're thinking. Even I can't predict people changing their minds. C'mon, let's go get some food before all the good stuff is gone."

She stopped after a couple of steps, tossing her golden hair artfully as she looked back.

"Can't put it off forever, taicho."

"Indeed I can."

I turned to leave. It had been a mistake to come here. It was always a mistake whenever I ventured into social gatherings. I knew that fact and still let myself get lured into this, all because I was completely off-balance. Yet more proof that dreams, relationships, fantasies, attraction, all of the bullshit Kurosaki had dragged into my life was not worth it.

"Taicho! You have got to stop running from your feelings. If you don't face this it's going to keep eating at you."

I shrugged off the hand gripping my shoulder, downed the last of the drink in my glass and turned, shoving the pretty bit of crystal at her. I really wanted to throw the thing, the tiny bit of destruction would do me good.

"You. Lecturing me about facing emotional turmoil. Really, Matsumoto?"

The things I left unsaid, implied cruelty. I saw the wince, felt my shock that I would say such a thing in anger to her of all people. The thought flitted through my head that this was all her fault anyway, tricking me here, muddling my head with alcohol, muddling my heart with her month of needling. Yet she still kept at me.

"What is it you're afraid of, Toshiro?"

"Drop it, lieutenant," I growled. I needed to get out of the situation, far away. I'd gone from relatively content, to angry, to panicked, and now I was simply volatile. I didn't know what I would do or say, everything was too raw, too jumbled.

"The worst that can happen is he rejects you and then you move on. So just tell him how you feel."

She took a step back as I glared at her. I didn't realize until after I started shouting that the pretty azaleas nearby had frozen and wilted. I didn't realize until my foolish mouth shut that I had completely lost control. I certainly didn't realize that the alarming burst of wild reiatsu from the perfectly controlled ice captain would draw the rapid attention of several powerful Shinigami nearby who only needed a second to be within earshot.

"It's that easy, is it? Just bare all my faults and everything will be better? Thank God I have you to tell me what to do, Matsumoto. And what exactly would you suggest I say? 'So, Kurosaki, sorry about telling you to get lost but I've been thinking and I know you're a barely legal if hot-as-sin human and I'm a frigid, old, dead man who looks like jail-bait, but I really think we should get married or at least have lots of sex for a few decades.' Does that sound good? Do you think he'd throw himself at my feet?"

Her steel eyes were wide and unblinking as she took another cautious step back, away from the ring of ice surrounding my feet. I drew a shuddering breath, closed my eyes for a second, strangling to death every stupid thought and worthless feeling I could catch. That left a nice, big void to be filled with mortification when I opened my eyes.

At least a dozen Shinigami stood in an irregular ring several steps behind Matsumoto. Likely, there were others I would see if it were at all possible to turn my head. It was the tall, tattooed Abarai that broke the heavy silence, a whisper like a thunderclap.

"Yeah, that would probably do it."

Beside him stood the one person I could not bear to look at, yet could not tear my eyes from. Tea-colored eyes blinked at the quiet words, breaking the spell. The handsome face went from shock to a mix of embarrassment and something like grief strangely mixed with simmering fury.

So. That's what rejection feels like. That's what I had done to him through my carelessness. I could swear in that instant I heard a deafening crack, though the pain of heartbreak would not set in until I had fled like a coward. No one followed.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

Never had I been so grateful for my years of dedication to work and lack of social connections. No one from the Tenth had been at Kuchiki Manor except me and Matsumoto. Normally a shameless gossip, she would not only keep her mouth shut, I was sure she would also stop any gossip in its tracks. I would have a day or two. Still, it was only a matter of time before the entire division knew every disgusting word I had said.

No, not disgusting. Inappropriate, rude, uncivil, but true. I let my forehead thump on the desk for the hundredth time, wincing as I aggravated the hangover that had tormented me since before dawn. I wasn't proud of snatching one of Matsumoto's sake bottles from inside her desk and downing it on the roof. Between the sting of rejection and the brutal pain of facing my actions, intoxication seemed the only way to deaden the churning anxiety.

Really, it was no worse than when I first became captain. There would be jokes, quickly hushed conversations, laughter from turned heads. It would pass. At least many would be too afraid of me to get caught mocking.

It was still early when I felt his reiatsu. Kurosaki had left Soul Society not long after my horror of a 'confession.' I debated running again, go to check patrols or something. But he wouldn't come here, anyway. He wasn't the type to rub it in, and apart from that, what was left to say?

Sighing, I got up to make some tea. There were no officers scheduled for office work and Matsumoto wouldn't be in until noon at the earliest, so the kitchen was empty. I took my time, trying to think of nothing except the comforting routine, finding myself simply leaning on the counter and staring at nothing while water heated. I seriously needed to get my shit together, go back to the way I was and chalk this entire year up to some warped effect of extremely delayed physical puberty long after the mind had matured. What a cruel bitch Mother Nature could be.

"Toshiro?"

Shit! Shit, and damn, and shit what was he . . . hide? He couldn't sense reiatsu for shit, I could just . . .

"Shit!"

Bursting in was his specialty, and he ran into the kitchen while I sucked on the skin below my small finger, hand stupidly landing on the steaming kettle in my panic. I glared as he grabbed my hand, blaming the heat in my cheeks on the slight injury instead of the way his two big hands made mine vanish.

"What are you doing here?"

"At the moment, healing you. Don't worry, Toshiro, I've been practicing."

Jerking my hand away was a bit painful, in more ways than one. With a thought, I coated the red skin with ice. It would heal in minutes, anyway.

"It's Hitsugaya-taicho. I don't need your help."

Brushing passed him wasn't an option, the great tree took up too much space in the narrow aisle. So I turned back to the tea, cursing under my breath when I automatically grabbed his favorite cup along with mine. Too late to do anything about it, so I followed through with making him a cup while the uncomfortable silence stretched on behind me. I couldn't find anything else to do while the tea steeped, so I drew a deep breath and turned. It had been weeks since I'd really seen him, a glimpse here, a horrifically embarrassing moment there. This was the first time face-to-face since my thoughts about him had radically changed.

Why hadn't I seen it before? Was it really just hormones, a reaction to his interest? Or did my mind have to make the dangerous leap before my body realized how attractive he was? He had one hand on the counter, leaning with his head down, chin on the breastbone invitingly exposed by the cut of his unique uniform. Damned show off. And it got worse when he looked up at me, the angle of his head making his brown eyes huge and sweet . . . and sad.

Oh, this was going to hurt.

"Tosh . . ."

"No. This is not going to happen here. Wait for me in the office."

I turned back to the tea, only an excuse. After a few seconds, I heard him exit the kitchen, sliding the door closed, leaving me an illusion of privacy. Not that it did me any good. Well, it did give me a minute to change my attitude, to remind myself that I was a captain and truly did not have the time or the ability to pursue romantic attachments. I wouldn't let attraction, emotional, sexual or otherwise, become a distraction.

That didn't make this any easier. I didn't want to hear how he had moved on, how he was flattered but not interested. Kurosaki would be kinder about it than I had been, at least, and I owed it to him. Might as well get it over with.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

I set down the heavy mug Kurosaki had always preferred, all those days he spent loitering around my office. He sat now on the couch where he would nap from time to time. I used to nap there, as well, and he had commented more than once that the throw pillow smelled like me. I wondered what that meant. My shampoo, I guess, since my soap wasn't scented and I didn't wear cologne. So I smelled like sandalwood? Not as nice as cedar.

"Toshiro?"

I'd been standing there beside him like an idiot, staring at the plain beige pillow. With a huff, I moved to the chair at the end of the long table, staring instead at the crumpled white box with its silver ribbons, curls mussed and spilling on the table. I drew a breath, not sure what was going to come out, but he beat me to it.

"These weren't from you, were they?"

"What?"

A crooked smile, and I dared look higher to the rather sad eyes with a glint of hope lightening my heart as I met his gaze.

"You dropped them. Rangiku said they were for me, for White Day."

"Ah . . . no. Momo made them. She said for Inoue."

"Mm-hm. Rangiku knew that, didn't she?"

My head fell, hand rubbing my eyes harshly. Naïve fool.

"You aren't seeing someone, romantically, I mean."

"Uh, no."

"She knew you were going to be at Kuchiki Manor."

"Yeah, everyone did. What else . . . you'd been drinking."

"She kept pissing me off and filling my glass."

It was silent for what seemed like hours. I wasn't even mad at her. Not yet, anyway. I was too sick with shame and sorrow to be angry. Still, the thought ran through my head, after all we had been through, how could she do this to me, to him? Manipulating me into feelings I didn't want, and apparently he no longer wanted, for what? Her personal entertainment?

"Do you remember back when you came to Karakura and had to go to school and hang out like a human?"

My head raised, surprised by the change of topic, enchanted by the wistful smile.

"I tried to ask you out three times. Three and a half if you include the time you just flash-stepped away in the middle of the invite. Did you even know?"

Stunned, I shook my head, leaning toward him with my elbows on my knees. When . . . what had he said? I remembered him bugging me about trying some fancy tea place, and being a bit tempted because, well, tea. Was that supposed to be a date? I was there to gather information on Kurosaki, Aizen, Karakura, not to spend time drinking tea or ice skating – that one had to have been a date request, right?

"I wasn't very good at flirting then. Still not, apparently. Kinda sad, you'd think I'd figure out how to get your attention after years of trying. Guess I should have just asked Rangiku."

Wait. Wasn't he . . . it was a lie that he was with someone else, so why did he look so pissed off when I . . . oh. Pissed off for me. Sad for me. Pissed off because he could tell someone had been messing with my emotions and drowning my ability to think clearly. Sad because he knew I would never have said such a thing in private, let alone in company.

"Years of trying?"

"Yeah, Toshiro."

"Hitsu . . . um, I think I'm still missing something."

Now he leaned forward, and I watched in a strange sort of daze as he scooted closer, our knees almost touching. Tensing to pull back, I froze when just one roughly callused fingertip slid lightly down the back of my right hand, both of us staring at the unkempt and bitten fingernail that paused at my knuckle and stayed. I held my breath as I lifted my eyes, meeting the sunlit gaze that was studying me intently, so close I could count the flecks of darkness and light.

"No. I don't think you are."

Some fucking genius I was. Oblivious to the ways of the heart, unintentionally hurting him not just for these past four weeks, but for years. And he was still here. I didn't know what would come of this, and it was probably a terrible idea. I only knew what had to happen next, and which one of us had to do it. My hand twisted under his delicate touch, locking our hands together as I leaned closer.

Cedar and rain, both warm and refreshing. I had no idea how sensitive my lips could be, feeling every slight movement, the pull of the slightest friction, the damp of breath. My heart was tripping, a feeling quite like that rush of fearful eagerness before a fatal strike, the adrenaline of that split second before victory, and just like that, gone too soon, sighing as he moved back just an inch with a tiny, monumental tug of the tingling skin as if it longed to stay with him.

And he did the strangest thing, brushing his nose back and forth against the tip of mine, then resting his forehead against mine, his eyes closed and face content with a gentle smile, so close, I could barely think and wasn't sure I cared.

"Hey."

"Hmm?"

"I made you some cookies."

His chuckle shook against me, his thumb gliding across the underside of my wrist. Such little things, things I'd never felt.

"They're lovely. So, dinner, you and me, sometime this weekend?"

"No."

"No?"

"Tonight."

I had wasted enough time. Matsumoto was still going to pay, pay dearly for toying with us both. And then I would forgive her. Someday, I may even have to thank her. I wasn't sure what would come of this. All I knew was that I was hopeful, and he was smiling. A slight tilt of my head and my lips were happy again.