Okay, this is way too addictive. Now I'm going, and it'll be a week.
Probably.
Nanao woke up to a raging headache and two very familiar….well, not faces, exactly. Her left was dominated by cleavage deep enough to require crampons and climbing rope, and there was a familiar straw hat to her right.
Both her hands were being held. That was touching, except that her nose itched something fierce. She wriggled it. No help.
Matsumoto saw that she was awake and let out an ear-splitting squeal of delight. "Nanao!"
Shunsui's head jerked up, and she caught a fleeting glimpse of haggard chocolate eyes before she was yanked into one of Matsumoto's trademarked hugs.
Matsumoto Rangiku was the only person Nanao knew who could deliver a bear hug without using her arms.
"Gnnnnrrrff!" Nanao flailed.
"You're awake! You're awake! Oh, thank goodness!"
Nanao managed to pry herself loose with one elbow. It would have been easier with two hands, but she was reluctant to pull free of her Captain's grip. She had a dreadful feeling that it might be the last time he touched her at all.
She couldn't remember exactly what had happened—she remembered the chase well enough, she'd been running, but then—there was a blankness in her memory and a sore spot the size of her fist across her skull.
"What happened?" she asked hoarsely.
"Ooooh…." Matsumoto began, clasping her hands together.
"You're awake." Shunsui stood up, discovered he was still holding her hand, and dropped it as if he was burned. "I'll get Unohana." He fled the room.
"You're awake?" That's it? No "my Nanao-chan?" Ah, hell. I have made a hash of things…Nanao scratched her nose wretchedly.
"He's been here the whole time," Matsumoto confided.
"How long was that?"
"Oh, three or four hours. You really don't remember?"
Nanao began to shake her head, thought better of it, and said "No," instead. She rubbed her thumb over the knuckles of her right hand, trying to cling to that last memory of the warmth of his fingers.
"Well…" Matsumoto scooted up onto the bed, holding up her hands. "You do remember him chasing you, right?"
Vividly. "Yes."
"Well, apparently you went across half the city, and then you tried to Zaraki him—not a good idea, it might actually have worked, and then where would you be?"
Nanao chose to ignore this editorial intrusion. "Go on."
"Well, you know the Eleventh. They were engaging in some unplanned urban renewal, and a building fell on you, and at the last moment—swooooop!" Matsumoto made a sweeping gesture with her right hand and caught it with her left, nearly falling off the bed and putting dangerous stresses on the upper parts of her clothing. "He pulled you out!"
"Where did you hear all this from, anyway?" asked Nanao weakly.
Oh please, oh please, let her have seen the whole thing herself and followed me in here and not told anybody yet, oh please, thousand gods, I will burn my own weight in offerings. Money. Wine. Live goats. You name it.
"Yumichika! He saw everything! Everybody's talking about it!"
Thanks, gods. No goats for you.
"Oh, and he says to tell you that you have good cheekbones but you should really do something with your hair." Matsumoto smiled her dazzling smile. "But forget him—you and Shunsui! It's so romantic!"
"It's so horrible…" moaned Nanao, sliding lower under the covers. She had an overwhelming urge to pull the blankets over her head. Maybe if she did, this would turn out to be an awful dream.
"Horrible? Why?"
The screen slid open. Captain Unohana came in, with Shunsui right behind her. She wondered how much, if anything, he'd heard.
"Up and around, I see," said Unohana pleasantly. "Good. There is no permanent damage, but you need rest. You've been worn to the bone by the looks of it, and I want you resting for at least a day. And no more bricks!"
Nanao barely heard her, staring over her shoulder at the tall form in pink.
Shunsui gave her a single stricken look, and slipped out of the room.
Nanao did not consider herself an overly-emotional woman. It was because she was tired. She was tired, and she'd had a blow to the head, that was all. That was the only reason that her eyes were burning with unshed tears. Definitely concussion-related. She swiped at them with the back of her hand and sniffled.
"Oh, honey…" Matusmoto might have truly enormous breasts, but they concealed an equally enormous heart. She wrapped her arms—and other parts of her anatomy—around her friend. "There, there. It'll be okay. What's wrong?"
Unohana, eyes narrowed in professional concern, sat down on the edge of the bed and held out a hand. A soothing, impersonal warmth focused on the soreness behind Nanao's ear and sank into her bones.
"I'll have to leave," she said miserably, into what she chose to believe was Matsumoto's shoulder. "I can't stay in the Eighth now. What good am I as a Vice-Captain? He's had to drag me out of the stupidest situations twice now…and…and…"
Unohana and Matsumoto shared a look over the top of Nanao's head. The healer-Captain rose to her feet. "Don't overtire her. You have fifteen minutes, no more." She let herself out.
It took Matsumoto all of two and a half minutes to extract the entire story, through occasional sniffles. "He'll think I rejected him," Nanao moaned. "We'll never be able to work together now."
"Well, you kinda did," Matsumoto observed. "I'm sure you didn't mean to, but yeah, I can see how that could be read as "I'd rather have the Eleventh drop a building on my head than spend time with you," sure."
"Oh, no…"
"Nanao, honey, it's great to get them chasing you, but at some point you gotta let them catch up," said Matsumoto, one of the battle of the sexes' most decorated veterans.
Oh, sure, now she tells me…Nanao put her head in her hands.
"We'll work something out, honey." Matsumoto gave her another smothering hug and stood up. "If you really do have to leave the Eighth, you've always got a home with us. Now you get some rest."
Nanao watched her go, and wondered glumly how long it would take for this particular evolution of the story to make the rounds.
Left to her own thoughts, she flopped backwards across the pillows. Was it possible to die of shame?
Why, oh why, didn't you just jump the man when you had the chance? If you're going to have to leave the Eighth anyway, might as well leave with one helluva memory…
Fat chance of that now. He's probably terrified that if he touches you, you'll stab yourself or something.
Sleep, predictably, eluded her. Her mind raced through all the dreadful ramifications and sank her deeper into depression. She wondered if she should get up and ask Unohana to give her something—oblivion seemed very welcoming about now—but even getting up seemed like too much effort. She dropped her head back and sighed.
There was a tentative scratch at the door.
Oh god, if it was him again, she really was going to die of shame. She couldn't believe how badly she'd screwed this up.
She hoped desperately that it wasn't him.
She hoped even more desperately that it was.
She fixed her eyes on the doorframe and waited for humiliation.
After a second, she had to drop her eyes about a foot, because humiliation was apparently a lot shorter than she'd expected.
"Captain Hitsugaya?"
The young shinigami had an immense stack of papers and a beseeching expression. "I know I didn't hold him for the full five minutes," he said desperately, "but if you could just help me find page B—even just tell me where to look—I wouldn't ask, but she's really messed it up this time—"
The knot in Nanao's chest loosened slightly. She hadn't expected that—and yet, as long as she was the master of paperwork, she wasn't without options. If she couldn't bear to face the captain of the Eighth again, then Matsumoto was right, the Tenth would probably take her gladly. It'd be a demotion, but demotion was infinitely preferable to…to…
What, exactly?
To staying where I'm not wanted.
That was her great fear. Captain Shunsui was not exactly noted for his constancy, and Nanao was hardly noted for her personal charm. If she did throw all caution to the winds—and you were this close, admit it—then how long could it possibly last? Within a few weeks, a few months at most, he'd be looking for someone more fun, and then…
I couldn't stay after that. Nanao knew herself at least that well.
But now that they'd come too far. Whether she did, whether she didn't, it hardly mattered any more—they'd both be walking on eggshells either way. Could either of them work like that?
She didn't know. She heaved a painful sigh, and heard it catch in her throat like a sob.
Hitsugaya lifted his eyebrows in concern. "Ise-fukutaichou? Should I come back later?"
"I'm fine," she said hoarsely. "Now show me these forms…"
There was another rap at the door.
Hitsugaya threw his hands in the air. Nanao gave a brief, muted laugh, equal parts astonishment and exasperation.
It was a truism that the only thing that traveled through Soul Society faster than flash was gossip, and Nanao could personally testify to the truth of that. The rumor mill had gotten hold of the fact that Ise Nanao, God of Forms, might be seeking another post, and captains and vice-captains across the thirteen divisions had looked up with visions of empty desks and clean in-boxes dancing in their heads.
They had descended on her hospital room like a pack of very polite white-clad locusts. Nanao didn't know whether to be gratified or to throw the lot of them out on their ears.
Hitsugaya had appointed himself as her small, spiky-haired watchdog, for which Nanao was forced to be grateful, if not without misgivings. She was helping him with the paperwork, to be sure, but she suspected that there was a lot of the protector-of-baby-birds in Hitsugaya's personality.
Still, she was glad he was there for some of the more…unsettling…offers. Fox-headed Komamura had never bothered her, but Captain Mayuri's skeletal grin and offer of "free exploratory surgery for life" would have been a lot more alarming without his presence. (The temperature in the room had dropped notably during that conversation.) Soi Fong had even put on an appearance, making a great many veiled hints that might, perhaps, at some point, possibly include a job offer for a job of a description so classified that she couldn't even admit there was actually a job involved, although there were definite intimations that it would pay very well. Still, that had not been a temptation.
Hell, at this point, Nanao wouldn't have been surprised to see Captain Aizen walk through the door and ask for help keeping the books in Hueco Mundo.
Let me see, if gossip travels at the speed of sound, he should hear about it…carry the one…two hours from now? Bah. I was never any good at interdimensional math…
The one captain she really wanted to see had been notable by his absence.
The door slid open. It was Ukitate. Nanao felt a lurch of disappointment--mixed paradoxically with relief--in her stomach, but she'd gotten used to that by now. It was the same one she'd felt every time the door opened and did not reveal a familiar flash of pink.
"May I have a moment of your time, Ise-fukutaichou?"
Nanao met his eyes frankly, too tired for tact. "Are you here to offer me a job?"
Ukitate chuckled. "No. Well, actually, yes, I suppose—if you wanted one, we'd take you in a heartbeat, of course."
Hitsugaya raised his head from the papers. "What could the Thirteenth offer her that the Tenth can't?"
"Vice-Captaincy and the chance to keep an eye on Shunsui from a safe distance," said Ukitate, who, despite being the kindest of captains, had an understanding of human nature you could slice yourself to ribbons on.
Nanao inhaled sharply at that.
"However," he said, "that's not the reason I'm here. Might I speak with you in private a moment?"
"Ah…?" She gave the other captain a glance.
Hitsugaya rose to his feet. "I will return shortly," he said, bowing to both of them. He flashed Nanao a quick smile. "With more ink."
"Thank you, Hitsugaya-taicho."
Ukitate stepped aside to let him pass, and turned back to Nanao. "You are well?"
"Well enough…did the captain send you? My captain, I mean? Err—" she flushed suddenly, "I don't mean my captain, but—"
"Captain Shunsui, having become as drunk as humanly possible, is now making his way here on foot, because he is too far gone for flash," said Ukitate, smiling. He slid the door shut. "He did not send me. I came to speak to you on my own."
Nanao sagged back against the pillows. "I've blown it," she said glumly. "If I ever expected him to take me seriously…" She shook her head.
The white-haired captain pulled up his chair. "Not necessarily. There are things, perhaps, that you should know…"