Ise, Nanao had always assumed that the opposite of love was hate. She'd never given the idea any real thought, but it made intuitive sense—hating was diametrically opposed to love. It took the fallout from That Night for her to reevaluate her conceptualization of love and hate. It seemed that the opposite of love—the absence of love—was not hate; it was indifference.

To say Nanao was taken aback by the magnitude of the pain that followed That Night was an understatement. Knowing and experiencing what she and Kyouraku Taicho could have and then lose was an exquisite type of loss. However, for some unfathomable reason, she couldn't bring herself to regret those addicting moments of pure bliss.

Though she didn't regret it, she did her best to avoid thinking of That Night. Try as she might, she had her moments of weakness. Occasionally, she found herself pushing through her boundaries. When she was running through repetitive tasks, her mind wandered to memories from That Night of his eyes, so filled with affection, wandering to the feeling of his to the comfort of his embrace, wandering to the way he'd said good morning, his voice deep and gravely. In her dreams, she would relive That Night; her dreams were so vivid she could nearly feel the heat of his breath against her neck.

With every slip-up, her chest was left tight and her mind reeling, trying to come to terms with what she had experienced and what had been lost. The ache she'd felt for decades had only intensified and turned into a droning burn in the weeks that followed That Night.

She had accepted the consequences of their actions. She expected the ache and pain that followed. What she had not expected nor prepared for was Kyouraku Taicho's behavior. She had expected and predicted that they would return to their usual charades. She had hoped that after that night, he would read her love poetry, be extra affectionate, and follow her around like a lost puppy. However, to her shock, he had behaved the opposite of what she'd expected. He showed not an ounce of clinginess; in fact, he showed a lack of interest that bordered on indifference.

It started small. He came to the office only a few hours after she arrived That Morning, and they had slipped back into their usual roles. While it stung, it was nothing she couldn't deal with. The following day, he was only in the office for an hour before napping on the roof. Given the warming weather, it was not surprising nor out of character at the time of year. However, by the end of that week, he had stopped coming to the office altogether, and when he did show up, it was never for longer than twenty minutes. She took it in stride and performed her role well — searching for him and badgering him to do paperwork. However, rather than being met with pouting and cajoling, she was met with short sentences and a quick signature.

To her embarrassment, she remained persistent. She searched Seireitei for him under the guise of paperwork. That was until her usual methods of tracking him down started to fail; even with her decades of experience, his reiatsu grew distant and guarded, and it became increasingly difficult to trace. When she did find him, he'd look at her with bored eyes, speak the bare minimum, and politely dismiss her as soon as she had what she needed.

On the rare occasion, they did interact. She couldn't help but be startled by the electric sparks that flowed between them every time they accidentally brushed. As surprised as she was by her intense reaction to their brief touches, she was more surprised by his reactions. Regardless of how electrifying those touches were to her, he seemed unaffected, his face placid, his eyes bordering on bored, and his reiatsu unbothered. With every blank stare, she felt her chest constrict more and more.

During the second week of his absence, she tamped down any unprofessional feelings and focused on work. Her work with the Logistics department at First was growing increasingly more complicated and demanded more of her attention. When not at the division, she poured all her time into the new barrier kido she was developing with the Kido Corps. It was a delicate and volatile spell that required her full attention — which, thankfully, meant there was no room for wandering thoughts.

By the third week, she stopped searching for him. She had given up looking for him at the Thirteenth, exhausted at the pitying looks Ukitake Taicho would send her way whenever she asked for Kyouraku Taicho. She began to accept his distance and accept that she had been wrong. For years, she heard plenty of people comment that his interest in her was only about the chase, and once he had her, he would grow bored of her. She'd always discredited those rumors as malicious gossip. Now, however, she could not help but reassess her stance. In her foolishness, she thought that perhaps he shared her feelings, as misguided as they were. However, after weeks of his indifference, she had clearly misinterpreted That Night and whatever feelings she had assumed they shared. He had not been motivated by a desire to be close and act on feelings she assumed they shared; instead, it seemed that he had been driven to his actions by fear and adrenaline alone.

Still, she couldn't begin to regret That Night.

She did her best to remain unaffected. However, it seemed that her body had other ideas. After a week and a half, stress and exhaustion started to pile up, sleep began to evade her, her pleasant dreams had turned to nightmares, her workload had nearly doubled, and to add insult to injury, there was an incessant cough that she couldn't shake off. She knew she should rest. However, it was better to dive into work than ponder his indifference.

It had been nearly four weeks since That Night when her bothersome cough turned into shortness of breath, whole body aches, and chills, and what she assumed was a chronic low-grade fever. Still, it didn't compare to the tightness in her chest when she thought about Kyouraku Taicho.

She did her best to hide her growing despondency, but she knew she was failing miserably based on how Rangiku had been looking at her throughout the weekly SWA meeting. After the meeting, she'd gone home to rest at her friend's insistence. That alone was a red flag. She wasn't surprised when the moment she crossed the threshold of her bedroom, her legs gave way, and sleep became too enticing to resist.

Kyouraku, Shunsui had been prepared to feel the loss of their brief intimacy. The life that he couldn't have stung sharply. The magnitude of the loss of what could have been mercilessly ran through him day after day. Contrary to popular belief, he was a deeply analytical and foreseen the cost of their brief truce. He had accepted those consequences. He had been prepared for the sting of pain from that brief respite. However, he was unprepared for his inability to deal with it. For all his hopes for That Night, he had not foreseen his inability to be around Nanao in the following weeks. Suddenly, he could not bear to be alone with his Nanao-chan for more time than absolutely necessary.

For years, he could only hope for a night like the one they shared. That morning, when he thought she was gone, he had hoped and begged for the mere possibility of a night like the one they shared. When he pleaded his case to Nanao, he promised That Night would not disturb their relationship. He had hoped that if it did, it would have shifted the equilibrium positively, closer to the relationship he hoped they could have. He had hoped it would be a salve, healing the hopelessness he'd felt that morning — and it had been. However, in the days that followed, he began to regret That Night. He regretted asking for that night. He regretted the closeness they had shared.

It started in little ways.

The feeling of her reiatsu against his burned. The night after they parted ways, he was roused from sleep by her reiatsu brushing against his. She had been asleep and unconsciously reached out. It wasn't a rare occurrence, and his sleepy mind seemed to think nothing of it; half awake, he had returned to contact and relaxed into the feeling of their souls entangling. However, after dreams — memories — of That Night, he woke up less than an hour later, filled with tension and regrets. Without a second thought, he retracted his reiatsu and knew it would be best to limit their contact.

A day later, he entered the office as if nothing had happened, slipping into his role. As the day went on, he caught himself watching Nanao as she worked silently from his dozing spot on the floor. Each time he could feel the embodied memory of her touch on his skin, her laughter in his ear, her reiatsu tangled with his soul — all his senses tingled. After two hours of trying to relax, he gave up and left the office to nap on the roof. The situation only seemed to deteriorate as time went on. Everything about being in her presence reminded him of That Night, to the point where it was becoming impossible to be in her presence in the confines of their office. When they accidentally touched, he had to use his whole strength to ignore the shocks of pure electricity that would shoot through him.

As the weeks of self-imposed separation went on, it became clear that the opposite of his hope wasn't hopelessness; it was regret.

He could not help but regret That Night.

Worst of all, he knew she noticed. He could feel it in her reiatsu, which had become despondent and cold after his rebukes — it was to be expected, he supposed, and probably for the best. He could see the hurt in her eyes every time he entered the office, only to avoid her. It was too much to bear, and halfway through the second week, he avoided the division altogether, spending most of his time in the Thirteenth.

By the end of the third week, Uktiake started asking questions.

"Kyouraku, what's going on? You've been lying here all week. I know you like your downtime, but this seems excessive."

He knew there would be no dodging this conversation. Still, he had to try.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing? Ise-san was here earlier this week and said you hadn't been in in nearly two weeks." His accusation was explicit.

"It's fine — I've signed what I need to sign."

"It's excessive. Poor Ise-san has always done more than her fair share of work for the Eighth, but this is too much of a burden to place on her shoulders."

"She's fine — she'd let me know if she weren't." She wouldn't. He knew, especially now, that she would not be reaching out to him for help. Yet another thing to regret.

"Don't think it hasn't escaped my mind that you've also been avoiding her; every time she shows up, you mysteriously have something else to do." There. His friend had reached his real goal.

He said nothing.

"Shunsui, she's stopped coming around. She's never been one to give up. What happened? What did you do?"

What hadn't he done?

"Nothing. Nothing happened." Lies. All lies.

"Sure — sure. That explains your behavior." He paused. "It doesn't take a genius to see that this coincides with the death of your Fifth Seat."

"It's fine."

"I know that day was hard, but you can't be doing this. You have to do your share of the work. You know Ise-san will overwork herself."

He had no defense.

"Shunsui." A clear warning.

"Leave me be. I get my things done."

The following day, he saw her leaving the First on his way out of a meeting. His stomach turned when he took in the slump in her shoulders. His resolve to maintain space nearly slipped when he caught her eye and saw the dark circles under her eyes. He tried to intercept her, but Matsumoto pulled her away. He didn't miss the glare Matsumoto had thrown his way before they left the courtyard. He couldn't say he didn't deserve it.

His comeuppance came towards the end of the third week.

Ukitake Jyuushiro had known Kyouraku for hundreds of years. He had grown up with the man and knew his habits and moods. So, the association between his best friend's avoidance of the Eight Division and his best friend's foul mood did not escape him. It also did not escape him how subdued Ise-san seemed when she stopped at his division looking for Shunsui. As any good friend would, he set out to solve the mystery by going to the source of all intel in Soul Society — Matsumoto, Rangiku.

"Excuse me, Matsumoto Fukutaicho, could you spare a few moments?" It had taken him quite some time to track down the vivacious lieutenant in a moment when other people did not surround her.

"Of course, Ukitake Taicho."

He knew Matsumoto was more perceptive than she let on, masking her true intellect behind a bubbly personality. He admired her tactics — they had served her well.

"I was wondering if you had noticed any changes in Ise Fukutaicho. I know the two of you are close, and I just wanted to be sure everything was alright." It would be too on the nose to ask about Kyouraku. Better to start with Ise-san.

"Hmm." She eyed him sharply. "Are you talking about the funk those two have been in these past few weeks?"

"Precisely."

"I'm glad to know it's not just me who's noticed. Something is off with Nanao, and Captain Kyouraku seems constantly in a bad mood." She waited for his confirmation before delving deeper into her theories. She was ever the diplomat.

"Yes, he has been moody as of recently, and Ise-san has been unusually quiet."

"I've been worried about her — about both of them. Nanao has been overworking herself. Staying in the office too late and getting there way too early. From what I can tell, Kyouraku Taicho has been actively avoiding her." She finally offered.

"It's unlike him. Kyouraku has been avoiding the Eighth at all costs. He's been spending more and more time at my division —"

"Or out drinking," she said knowingly. "He's been out nearly every day in the past few weeks — that's a lot, even for him."

"Do you think something happened?" As far as he knew, nothing had changed

"Not that I'm aware, except this started right after the incident with their Fifth seat, right?" She asked astutely.

"Yes, based on my estimations, that's when it started. I know Kyouraku was shaken that day, but avoiding Ise-san altogether is out of character. I've tried to talk to him about it, but he never gives me any real explanation."

"I don't understand why that day would make him just —" she drew in a breath and furrowed her eyebrows. "Just ignore her." She paused. "Do you think something happened between them?"

"I would hope not because if it did, his behavior is — well — " If Kyouraku and Ise-san had fallen together and mutually decided to part ways, it would surely hurt his friend.

If something had indeed happened between the two and the situation had gone awry, the fallout would be significant. As in touch as Kyouraku was with his emotions, he was likelier to avoid complicated and consequential emotions. And, while his friend often and readily confessed his love for his dearest Nanao-chan, he doubted that Kyouraku had ever fully dissected his feelings for the woman. All of which made his current behavior confusing and concerning.

If he were a betting man, he would say that Ise-san had finally reached her limit or had been spooked, and his friend was now feeling the burn of rejection. However, given Kyouraku's sullen and uncharacteristic silence and his steadfast avoidance of Ise-san, his gut told him that it had been Kyouraku who had spooked.

"It would break her heart." Her tone left no room for argument.

"I'll keep an eye on him. Please watch out for Ise-san. His avoidance of the division must be putting a strain on her."

"It is." Her eyes narrowed. "Please try to get him to go back to the Eighth." The request rang more like a threat.

"Yes, I'll do my best." He said. Something was wrong, and it seemed like Ise-san was bearing the brunt of the consequences.

Matsumoto, Rangiku, was on a war path. She had noticed changes in her best friend in the past weeks. After her conversation with Ukitake earlier that week, she was sure something was wrong in the Eighth Division.

The changes had all started with the death of the Eighth's Fifth Seat. Since then, Captain Kyouraku had been acting out of character, avoiding his responsibilities — more than usual — and avoiding Nanao at all costs. She could tell the effect this was having on her friend. She'd seen Nanao become more subdued, pouring herself into work and putting in more hours on SWA projects. So it didn't surprise her when Nanao showed up to the meeting shivering and unfocused SWA meeting. After surprisingly little cajoling, she convinced her friend that it would be more productive to rest rather than lead a meeting unfocused and managed to get Nanao home. Though it upset her, she was not surprised when her friend immediately collapsed into bed when they crossed the threshold of her house. After settling Nanao safely in bed, Matsumoto began her warpath. Captain Kyouraku would listen and face the consequences of his actions.

Her first stop was the Thirteenth Division. If anyone knew where Kyouraku Taicho was, it would be Ukitake Taicho. To her enraged delight, she found both men sitting in Ukitake's office drinking tea.

"You!" She pointed at Kyouraku.

"Me?" He startled and set up straight.

"You." She marched in front of him. "Where have you been? Do you have any idea of what's been going on?"

Ukitake frowned but sent her a knowing look. "What happened?"

"Rangiku-chan, I can assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about." He seemed genuinely confused.

"I know you don't because I sent word to the Eighth, and you were nowhere to be found. You have been nowhere to be found for nearly a month." she was livid.

"Can you just tell me what's going on?" His feigned ignorance only served to heighten her ire. Kyouraku Shunsui was intelligent and perceptive; she was sure he knew what she was referring to.

"You have disappeared. You have left your division in Nanao's hands —"

"She's more than capable of —" He tried to defend himself.

"I know that, but she shouldn't have to. Since you have left her to handle the entire division, she's been overworking herself for weeks, and now she's sick."

Kyouraku sat up from his lounging position. "I — what? Nanao-chan is sick?"

"Yes — she's sick, and when I took her home, she all but collapsed at the door. Isane-san has already stopped by and checked her over. She said she had a bad case of the flu and had been overworking. So, where have you been?" She pointed at Kyouraku.

"I have to go." Kyouraku stood, gathered his things, and jumped into shunpo.

"You better go. You have an hour, and then I'm kicking you out. You better fix whatever it is you've done." She yelled after him.

He was at her house within moments. Before entering, he decided it would be best to test her reiatsu; it wouldn't be possible to enter her space when she was not comfortable with having him. Her reiatsu was distinctively weaker than usual. He felt his whole body melt in the familiarity of her presence. It had been nearly four weeks since he'd allowed himself to linger in her reiatsu.

Working through the wards she kept up took some time—far longer than it usually took. Her wards were intricate and complex, not that anyone would ever dare break into her house. If any would-be thieves weren't afraid of what she'd do to them, they were most definitely scared of what he would do.

"Nanao-chan?"

Hearing no reply, he ventured further into the house. He'd been in her bedroom a few times, mostly when he helped return from the Fourth when she was either injured or sick.

Peaking his head into the room at the end of the hall, he saw her safely tucked into her bed. She looked sickly pale; if it weren't for the flush of her fever, her skin would match the stark white of her sheets. The floorboard squeaked, and she stirred from her sleep.

"Nanao-chan? Are you awake?" He tried to keep his quiet as steady as possible.

"Rangiku-san? " His stomach tightened at how hoarse and weak her voice sounded. "Oh. Kyouraku Taicho? What are you doing here?"

"I …" What was he doing here? He had made an effort to distance them these past weeks. The toll and loss had been high, but it was for the best. Now, however, seeing the consequences of his actions, feeling the consequences of his actions, he was suddenly reconsidering all of his choices since that night. Rangiku was right; he needed to apologize and set things right.

She struggled to sit up and looked at him with feverish eyes. "Why are you here? Is everything okay at the Division?"

Gods. It was such an earnest question. Did she really think the only reason he would be here was if something had gone wrong at work? Well, he had done nothing to show her otherwise.

"Everything's alright, Nanao-chan"

She seemed to sink deeper into the pillows, looking far too small. "Oh. If everything's alright, I'd like to go back to sleep, sir. You can go."

Shame flooded him; he couldn't bear to look at her. He had promised her in no uncertain terms that he would be the one to take care of her and be the one who was there. Always. No matter what. And he had already broken that promise—more times than he could count in the past weeks.

He remembered her words — that if she ended up at the Fourth, it would most likely be because he slacked off. She had been right. It was only fair he took care of her, she said. He ran his palm over his face in an attempt to push past the guilt.

"Nanao-chan, look at me." She didn't. "Please?"

When she finally turned. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sweetheart —"

"— don't call me that."

"I'm sorry." He hung his head. He had really messed this up. But he couldn't continue to wallow in his self-pity. Not when he promised.

He'd made up his mind. He could not — would not — avoid Nanao anymore. "I'm sorry." He lifted his head. "I'm sorry for how I have behaved. I broke my promise, and you did nothing to deserve it. I'm sorry. Please let me take care of you?"

She coughed feebly. "No, not if it's because of some deal. Not if it's because you're just trying to play it fair."

Her words stung, but he deserved them. He grasped her hand, and she turned to look at him. "I have never placated you. I want to take care of you. Please?"

She eyed him cautiously, unsure whether she could trust him. The comfort of his hands clouded her judgment just enough that she could consider believing him. "I'm fine, and Rangiku-san said she'd be back to drop off food before dark."

"At least let me stay with you until she gets back then?"

After an assessing look, her eyes softened. "Alright."

He smiled at her and motioned for her to lie down again. "Rest." He settled himself in the chair she had by her window.