I Don't Own Bleach.

A House of Artifacts

ShunNao

Much to the chagrin of her taichou Nanao has rarely ever permitted another soul into her house. This excludes, of course, Matsumoto Rangiku; Nanao considers the beautiful woman among her top friends, and logical, knowledgable Ise Nanao is aware that even she may become the object of poor circumstances. It is best to have someone near to you who you trust to keep secrets when such circumstances present themselves. Nanao believes this whole-heartedly.

"You know," Rangiku said once "I think your taichou would gladly be that person if you let him."

But Nanao is terrified of the prospect, and so hasn't.

Nanao's house isn't particularly spectacular. It's rather small, secluded just beyond the tree line, within walking distance of the 8th division barracks. It was built for the fukutaichou of the division and aside from minor revisions it retains most of the previous installments Yadamora Lisa had put in — It's been over a century and Nanao still, every once in a blue moon, stumbles upon a dirty magazine or manga left by her mentor — Noticeably, the greatest difference between the old and new is an extended windowsill, large enough to throw a blanket and pillow on and drift to bed at. This feature is in Nanao's living room, overlooking a distant patch of beautiful blooming cherry blossom trees that remind Nanao of her taichou on days she is comfortable enough to indulge the thoughts. It is a feature which was also put into the joint office she and Kyoraku-taichou share, although on days when she is at work it is he who sleeps in the area and she finds that she envies his ease of access to something she so loves.

There are, of course, loads of bookshelves in her house as well. They line most of the walls; decoratively designed to fit at shaved angles, created from cedar trees which smell so very lovely that the only scent Nanao values higher is that of the cherry blossoms which float in in spring when she leaves her windows open. Kyoraku-taichou has come to love the smell of cedar as it is what he equates most with his Nanao-chan.

Most of the bookshelves are lined with fictional literature, manuals and informational tomes, but Nanao's greatest pride - resulting from a habit acquired as a rukongai street rat - are her nicknacks. On the rough streets nicknacks were a child's dearest treasures, providing a sense of closeness and comfort, not unlike a stuffed animal or a security blanket. Nanao owns a plush cat which remains on the highest shelf in her room where no one who isn't looking for it can find it; Nanao named it Macchia when she was very young, only a year or so before her recruitment into the eighth. As the years trudged on and Nanao developed a more vested interest in knowledge her nicknacks slowly made the assent into artifacts, collected from a variety of places and people. She is proud of most of them, ashamed of some and deeply embarrassed by one. If not for it, perhaps she would allow her taichou more leeway where her living quarters were concerned.

This one artifact she does so well to hide is a small red flame. Nanao remembers the day she received it. She was running weekend errands in a poor district of west rukongai. Her shinigami robes had been left behind as to not attract attention. She'd just finished her list and was grabbing a quick bite to eat before she head for home. Across from the stand which sold the papaya she was buying was an old woman, ancient in appearance and probably twice what she seemed in years. She beaconed Nanao to her, and reluctantly Nanao approached.

"A shinigami are you?" The elder woman chuckled, waving her hand for Nanao to sit. She did so reluctantly.

"How could you know that?" Nanao questioned, eyes narrowed in warning.

"How could I not?" The woman smiled. "I'm a fortune teller. I simply read the signs and they all point to you, the shinigami."

Nanao was not stupid enough to believe fortune telling didn't exist in the after life. Souls were mysterious creatures; even those who had lived for millennia had not completely understood them. All the same …

"I don't put much stock in star readers." Nanao stated, moving to stand.

"Nor should you." The woman said. "But here, for you." And she handed Nanao the small cage in which the flame resided. "This is the Infinity Flame, as long as its possessor is in love, the flame will never go out. It lit up when I caught sight of you. Every girl in love deserves a congratulatory gift. So few people are truly in love." Nanao inspected the flame for a moment, and deciding this was foolish made to hand it back. The woman was gone, stand and all.

Nanao looked at the flame now, she'd had it for nearly forty years and the flame was still strong. When she was angry at her captain, or hurt to the brink of tears she'd often tried to blow it out, but in times like those the flame simply grew stronger, as if to taunt her foolishness. Those who fall in love with their superiors, their laid back, flirtatious superiors, could expect nothing more than heartache. For all Nanao tried to distance herself from the man, the flame never once even wavered, as if to doubt whether it need actually be burning.

Nanao frowned deeply as she watched it flicker and grow with her musings. She blew it out again. For a moment the whole room went dark as night, but only for that moment. When it ended the flame was back, illuminating the whole of her small living room in a dim red tint.

"I'm such a fool."

Something quick, unedited, posted on tumblr. I've got half of a second part written out, one with more Kyoraku but I'm not sure if I should post it or not. Let me know and reviews are always appreciated. :3