Looking up at the clock, Nanao removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose; it had only been thirty minutes since she'd last looked up. Kyouraku Taicho had been gone for hours on a mission to the Living World. The assignment brief said it would only take a few hours—four at most—but it was quickly approaching mid-afternoon, and the team had yet to return. So, here she was, fixing the third mistake she'd made on the monthly training schedule.

These past few months, how she related to her feelings for her Taicho has been evolving, and she wasn't quite sure or ready to handle it. For decades, she had strict rules about her reluctant affection for her Kyouraku:

1) All feelings were to remain professional and platonic.
2) No dwelling on any (non-existent) non-platonic feelings.
3) No acting on any (non-existent) non-platonic feelings.

She had followed her rules for all those years, but then, when he held her in front of the morgue, his eyes filled with fear and his body shaking, all her rules flew out the window. However, the outcome of breaking those rules —Kyouraku's distance in the weeks that followed— reinforced the necessity of the rules.

Despite the echoes of pain, in the past few weeks, she found herself continuously ignoring rule number one and failing to maintain rule number two. Just last week at the bar, she had ignored rules number one and two at the sight of his sweet, boyish smile, filled with genuine joy, and her resolve on rule number three nearly faltered every time their fingers brushed.

Right now, examining the tightness in her chest, she knew that her grip on all her rules was being tested. Each stroke of the clock tightened the knot in her chest. The feeling only worsened when her Seventh Seat arrived in her office, offering her the mission report.

The haunted look on her Seventh Seat's face did nothing to assuage her fears; if anything, it only made her anxiety worse.

"Kyouraku Taicho sent me to report on this morning's field assignment, ma'am."

Red flag. Her Taicho always reported to her the moment he arrived back from missions.

"Thank you, Yamaguchi-san. Is there anything I should know?" As in, where was Kyouraku?

He looked away, his body going tense. "There were several fatalities — they're listed in the report. Anyone who was injured is being treated at the Fourth."

Her stomach dropped. Damnit.

She did her best to keep her voice even. "I see. I'll take care of everything. Thank you for notifying me. Please take the rest of the week off and rest. Can you let the others on the mission know they have the rest of the week off?"

That was the bare minimum she could do.

"Thank you, Ise Fukutaicho. Is there anything else you need from me?"

There was only one burning question in her mind. "And Kyouraku Taicho? Where is he?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am. I returned from the gate straight to fill out the mission report. I know he was injured — nothing too bad. The last I saw of him, he was escorting the injured to the Fourth."

Her anxiety skyrocketed, as did her growing nausea — like it always did when Kyouarku was injured. Keeping herself in check, she nodded. "Thank you, Yamaguchi-san; please rest."

The man exited the room, and she allowed herself a moment of distress. Kyouraku Taicho was stubborn and reluctant to seek treatment at the Fourth and always sneaked off before he was discharged. She would bet he had not sought a healer, especially given the mission's outcome. After their years together, she knew he was more likely to neglect his health when he was grieving and suffering the weight of loss.

It would be a struggle to work before checking on him; however, there were things that needed to be dealt with immediately — starting with notifying the loved ones of the deceased.

It was hours before Nanao could take a moment to breathe and process the day's events. Her anxiety and worry had turned into a profound exhaustion and sadness. Her heart broke for the pain of her division members' families and friends.

She did not dare to imagine what being in their position would be like. She could imagine what she would have done if it had been him. But now was not the time to dwell on such feelings.

It was hours later when she felt him brush against her soul.

Finally.

She returned the contact, which was brief but enough for her to sense the turmoil in his soul. Her instinct was to go to him, but based on his melancholic mood, she knew it would be best to give him time to regroup.

The sun had begun to set when she felt him next, and before she could even stop herself, she was on her way to his house.

Kyouraku would find himself reaching for Nanao when he felt the weight of his long life baring down on his shoulders.

He'd returned from the mission to the Living World weary and exhausted, his side throbbing from the slash, his whole being burdened with the loss of his division members. He was home after he settled the injured shinigami at the Fourth. He should have probably seen a healer at the Fourth. However, in his exhaustion, he could not bring himself to spend a moment longer in the sterile building, not when there was a warm bath and strong bottle of sake waiting for him at home.

He quickly patched up the wound and settled in the bath, allowing the warm water to soothe his aching muscles. Before he could attempt to relax, however, he knew he needed to check in with Nanao.

They had a long-established precedent of checking in with one another as soon as possible after a mission. She would be worried. As much as Nanao tried to deny and pretend to be unaffected, she worried when he was away on a mission.

Slowly, he reached for her reiatsu and found her still at the office. Superficially, she seemed calm, but upon closer inspection, he could feel her agitation. He gently brushed his reiatsu against her and felt her startle before instinctively probing him. He did his best to assuage her anxiety before pulling back and guarding his reiatsu. There was no reason to precipitate her distress—she always took any loss of their division members as a personal failing.

To say the mission ended poorly was an understatement; he'd lost nine out of the thirty shinigami. The loss of fellow shinigami was a heavy burden that only compounded over the years. He'd led thirty young, bright-eyed division members to the field and lost nearly a third. It wasn't often that he could not save so many; the last time they'd suffered so many losses was the Winter Wart. He knew loss was an inevitability, but every single death weighed on him like an anvil.

Over his long tenure, as in the Gotei 13, it had happened far more often than he'd like. The only comfort he could find was that Nanao had remained in the office—worried and anxious but safe.

Sighing, he decided that it was probably best to re-dress his wound before Nanao came looking for him — it was near enough to the end of the workday that he knew she would arrive within moments once he made his presence known.

After staunching the blood and wrapping up his wound, he took his time getting dressed in a light yukata and sat on his porch, nursing one of his better bottles of sake. Staring out into the garden, lit in the early hours of the evening, he was too tired to hold back his need for company — one person's company. He reached out and brushed her reiatsu softly. He couldn't hold back a smile when she reacted instantly and stretched out her reiatsu. He could feel her assessing him and carefully let their reiatsus lightly entangle. It was a superficial connection but a balm to his soul nonetheless.

It wasn't long before he felt her shunpo at high speeds, and, within moments, she was standing in his garden path.

"Taicho," She said cautiously, slowly approaching him down the garden path.

"I didn't mean for you to come here." He stepped down from the porch to meet her. Up close, he could see that she was frowning lightly, her mouth downturned.

"Of course, I came." She said reflexively, her voice holding an authority that left no room for discussion. Her eyes widened, and he could see her blushing even in the light of twilight.

He smiled at her conviction — his Nanao-chan was so cute when she was honest about her feelings. Whether teaching or telling him off, his Nanao-chan held an undeniable air of authority, even when she was throwing kido at him.

"You were — that is —" she tripped over her words to correct herself before she took a deep breath. "You were distressed."

He was grateful for her. Even though their relationship had greatly improved in the past weeks, they were still on tentative grounds, and she came to him readily. Gods. He didn't know what he would do if he lost her.

She took a step toward him. "Seventh Seat, Yamaguchi, reported back to me. He said you were injured?"

His arms ached to hold her, but he knew doing so would be unfair. He knew that they had boundaries and lines and rules for a reason.

"I'm fine, Nanao-chan." He said, meeting her on the garden path. She was stilled by her eyes, deep indigo and shining with concern. "I'm more worried about the other division members."

She raised a hand to his arm. "I'll take care of them. I've already contacted the families and will fill out death certificates tomorrow morning."

His heart stuttered when he took in her eyes, so kind and careful. "I'm sorry, Nanao-chan. I lost our division members."

Her hand tightened on his arm. "No, Taicho. It's not your fault. You made the right decisions and led the mission well. Loss is, unfortunately, a risk in away missions."

"I should have been more prepared — brought more experienced officers."

"Taicho," she said softly.

Rules be damned.

He opened his arms and waited for her to decide. After a moment of hesitation, she walked into his embrace, and he pulled her towards him, enveloping her in his arms. When she returned his embrace and relaxed into his chest, he buried his head into her hair and inhaled. The smell of ink and fresh lavender, the warmth of her body tucked against his, and her reiatsu surrounding his very soul overwhelmed his senses.

After several silent moments, she pulled back and brought her hand to his arm. "You did everything right, Taicho. I read the reports. We had bad intel, and there were significantly more hollows than expected. You did everything right. There would have been more casualties if it weren't for you."

Her words did little to calm his restlessness, but he was grateful for her attempts to comfort him.

He raised a hand to caress her cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Nanao-chan."

She smiled gently up at him, her lips quirking in a way that meant she was amused. "Not much."

Bending forward, he pressed his lips to her forehead. Pulling back, he kept an arm loosely wrapped around her waist and grasped her hand, gently bringing it to his lips. "Come sit with me?"

She nodded, and he tugged at her hand. "Let's see your injury first?"

"I took care of it."

Based on her skeptical look, he knew that she was well aware that whatever healing he had done was insufficient.

The worry and anxiety that had permeated her day only worsened when Nanao arrived in Kyouraku's garden.

He met her on his bedroom porch when she arrived, looking exhausted and distressed, the weight of his long life etched in every line of his face. At first, his answers to her questions were short and pained, and she couldn't help but pull him closer when he wrapped her in his arms. His apologies broke her heart. She did her best to assuage his guilt but knew there was very little she could say to help — he took every death personally, adding every name to a list that weighed on his soul. Her resolve slipped, and barriers slowly eroded when he cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. And she breathed a sigh of relief when he asked her to sit with him. She would stay. Rules be damned.

Tugging on his hand, she guided him over the threshold of the porch to sit on the bed.

"It's fine. I took care of it." His protest held no real strength behind it.

"I know you didn't heal it. Let me, I'll heal it in a few minutes."

"It's fine." He could be so stubborn.

She knew his refusal had little to do with how well he healed the injury. She knew he bore each scar as a mark of a perceived failing, especially when it came to losses. She couldn't take away his pain, but she could make sure he wasn't physically hurting.

"Let me help." She reached out a hand to his cheek, gently running her thumb along the sharp line of his jaw. "Please?"

He was silent but nodded in acceptance.

"Thank you."

She helped him shrug off his yukata and couldn't hold back a wince when she saw the blood seeping through his dressing. Slowly, she unwrapped the bandage and had to hold back a sigh when she saw the cut on his side.

"It's not that bad, Nanao-chan." Of course, he knew what was going through her head.

She said nothing and started to apply the kido. While the kido didn't hurt, the feeling of flesh knitting together was uncomfortable. So, when he winced, she did not hesitate to grasp his hand with her free hand.

Within minutes, his flesh had mended together. Looking up, she had to fight the urge to blush at the look of pure affection radiating from his whole being. It was rare to catch him looking at her like that so openly, but when it did happen, there was no denying the place she held in his life.

Clearing her throat, she removed her hand from his side and said, "It'll be tender for a few days. Try not to move too much, alright? It could re-open."

"Yes, Nanao-chan." He released her hand and slipped his yukata back on. "Have a drink with me?"

For the first time that evening, she hesitated. She really should be going home. Staying would undoubtedly test the already blurred lines that defined their relationship.

"Please, Nanao-chan." He pleaded softly.

His voice was so vulnerable and his eyes so uncertain that she could not imagine being parted from him — not tonight.

She nodded and, squeezing his hand, helped him stand.

He said nothing but smiled softly and guided her by the hand through the bedroom.

"Sit," he said softly, motioning to the cushions on the porch. When he sat on a cushion, he relinquished her hand and poured her a cup of sake. She wasn't one for drinking in the middle of the week; however, much to her embarrassment, Kyouraku's sullen aura overpowered all her habits and discipline.

"It's a lovely night, isn't it, Nanao-chan," he said as he handed her the cup; his voice was soft and gentle with no facade of mirth.

"It is."

She knew Kyoraku would lean into small talk to avoid discussing the day's events. As uncomfortable as she was having these emotional conversations, she knew this conversation needed to be had.

She turned to face him, "Taicho, I know what you're doing."

He sighed but didn't speak.

"Taicho," she paused, "It's not your fault. No one blames you."

He only sipped on his sake and remained staring off into the garden.

He didn't believe her. That simply wouldn't do. She sat her drink down and fully turned to face him, resting her hand on his arm.

"I don't blame you."

He turned to face her, his eyebrows upturned and his eyes pained. "Thank you, Nanao-chan, but at the end of the day, it is my responsibility."

She could not convince him, but she would comfort him as much as possible. Although she had never been the best at handling emotions, especially when it came to comforting others, she would do her best for him. He needed her honesty and the space to be vulnerable.

"Taicho," She slowly stroked his arm. "Let's drop the charade?"

He froze, his eyes widening before looking away. She slid her hand down his arm and brought his hand to rest on her lap.

"I meant what I said earlier: you did everything you right — everything you could. Without you, many more lives would have been lost. This isn't your fault. No one in the division blames you for this. The whole division still looks up to you. We trust you." She fought from averting her eyes and ignored the flushed feeling crawling up her neck. "I trust you — implicitly — with mine and the division's lives."

His face softened, and his free hand came to cup her cheek. His palm was callused from centuries of swordwork, but his touch was soft and gentle. Her eyes fell closed when he ran his thumb across her cheekbone.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he said softly.

She just nodded and, breaking their eye contact, turned forward to face the garden again. When he moved closer, their sides nearly touching, she didn't protest. His presence at her side, warm and solid, was welcome after her anxiety-riddled day. Slowly, she stretched her reiatsu towards him, probing and assessing his state. He accepted her, and her chest tightened at the soul's deep weariness churning in his spirit. She couldn't take his pain away, but she could do her best to soothe and comfort his restlessness. He breathed out and leaned into her side.

She wasn't sure how long they sat together, watching night fall around them while making small conversation. When she next paid attention, the air had chilled, and she had, without thought, gravitated towards his warmth and tucked herself into his side.

This was, yet again, breaking her rules — all of them: numbers one through three laws — and flirted with breaking several laws laid out by the Gotei 13. However, at this moment, she couldn't bring herself to care, so she snuggled closer to his side. Releasing a breath, he pressed his lips against her temple, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

Time held no meaning as they sat in companionable silence, wrapped in each other's company.

"Nanao-chan?" he spoke quietly.

She nodded in acknowledgment, not ready to break their silence.

He kissed her temple again. "It's getting late; we should move inside."

We

She was, once again, filled with a brief moment of anxiety. She should be going home. It was probably late, and they had tested the flexibility of their lines enough for one night. It would be best if she went home, regardless of how comfortable she was and how much she didn't want this moment to end. She couldn't be parted with him — not yet. No, after she spent most of the day worrying about him.

Nodding, she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to help her stand. Her heart faltered for the second time that night when she met his gaze. She had never been sure of his eye color; sometimes, his eyes were the warmest of browns. Other times, however, when he was intently focused, his eyes would be a sharp amber that bordered on silver. This was one of those rare instances where his eyes shone silver in assessment, and she had to fight to keep from shying away from his intense gaze.

Whatever he saw in her eyes seemed to satisfy him, and standing on the threshold of his bedroom, he pulled her smoothly into his arms. She brought her arms around him, burying herself in his chest, and felt their reiatsu entwine further, sending shivers up her spine. Whether the sensation was from his body or hers didn't matter; all that mattered was that she couldn't tell where her spirit ended and his began. Not even the Seireitei sirens could not pull her away from his embrace.

She felt him bury his nose in her hair and his chest rumble with a deep noise reverberating throughout her body.

When they moved inside, she looked at the clock and was surprised to see nearly three hours had passed. Being in his presence warped and folded time in on itself — being with him existed in a moment and a lifetime.

"More sake?" He asked, cupping her cheek and gently rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone.

All her senses seemed to stop when she met his eyes, and she was once again transfixed by the affection radiating from his eyes, speeding up her arm and drowning out any other sound. Slowly and with care, she rose to the balls of her feet and brushed her lips against his cheek, brushing the corner of his mouth.

"You need rest, " she whispered. His hands slipped to the sides of her head, his thumb caressing the skin behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered as he lightly pressed his lips to her cheek.

He nuzzled her cheek and murmured, "I'm fine."

"I just healed you — you need rest."

He nodded and looked pensive.

She was about to ask if he was alright when he spoke, his voice light, "Stay?" His voice was smooth and vulnerable, somehow leaving her feeling exposed. Rules be damned.

"All right."