Author's Notes: Nanao contemplates the illusion of heaven. Manga spoilers.
Temporary Nirvana
Nanao kneels smoothly in the grass, knees together, the dark of her robes a void of color against the flower-strewn hilltop. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she sets the shamisen in her lap, plucking the strings hesitantly as she listens to the tone, flipping the bachi through her fingers a few times before settling, a habit she picked up when she first started playing for him.
Upon hearing those first few tentative notes, Shunsui smiles, something she can see even across the meadow, and he steps back slightly, his eyes twinkling at Ukitake who stands some feet away, grinning as well. It's a ritual they have, this game of sparring, two old friends testing the borderlines of conquer and retreat. It is done with an air of foolishness and pride, and Nanao has never seen either of them draw blood in this makeshift arena. Shunsui had once told her that would defeat the purpose.
She doesn't pretend to understand why Shunsui likes her to play during these moments, the ancient melody of the shamisen a striking backdrop to the ring of their swords, an accent to the swirl of her Captain's robe, the flutter of Ukitake's long hair. She doesn't mind though. She likes playing for them, encompassing them in the protective embrace of her song, as if each note is a defense against the outside world.
It reaches them anyway, no matter her efforts. Her fingers halt for a second when Ukitake suddenly hunches over, his fingers vainly trying to smother the hard coughs that shake through his body. Shunsui's swords take a dip towards the ground but Ukitake shakes his head and puts a hand up to keep him from approaching.
There is blood on his fingers.
Nanao hates this part. Soul Society has too much death for a supposed heaven. Too much pain and guilt and sorrow. She remembers a time when Shiba Kaien used to occupy the space next to her, teasing her and his Captain at the same time, making the scene a little less formal, a little more comfortable. Now there's an emptiness and she can see it in Ukitake, too. If Shunsui can, he ignores it, a gentle expression on his face as his friend straightens, breathing normally again.
This place is only temporary, she thinks. Heaven can't last like this, full of death and dying.
But then she looks at Shunsui and can't help but feel that perhaps paradise is found in people, never physical, never easy, but there if you look for it.
Ukitake rubs his sleeve over his mouth, leaving a dark stain on his clothes. Nanao closes her eyes and keeps playing.
The End.