Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, a rarity for them. They sat across from each other on the island, eating slowly in an awkward silence.
The day's events still rang through his body. Just as he thought he had returned to a fraction of normalcy, the memory of terror would return to remind him of what he almost lost. He couldn't keep going like this. They couldn't keep going on like this. Pretending the morning never had happened. Pretending he hadn't nearly lost her. Pretending he hadn't lost control and kissed her in the middle of a hallway in the Fourth.
His treacherous mind kept flashing back to the kiss in the morgue's hallway that morning. It wasn't the first time they'd kissed. However, kisses like that one were exceptionally rare, only occurring a handful of times and limited to moments when they were overwhelmed with fear for each other's safety. They never spoke of or let them impact their relationship — it was the most well-practiced and well-acted part of their act.
The last time they shared such a kiss was after the Winter War. During his battle with Stark, he had grown increasingly morose at Stark's despondent acceptance of loneliness. He had to stop his mind from wandering down the path of what his loneliness would look like because that inevitably led to a path of life without Ukitake and Nanao. In his moments of fear, he was comforted knowing Nanao was safe in Seireitei.
When he'd awoken in Fouth, he had done so to an empty room. It had been disconcerted and left him feeling uneasy. It had been years since he woke up without Nanao at his side. Worst of all, she had visited him only once — just once. It was unlike her. Usually, she came once a day and stayed hours with him under the guise of needing his signature. Every day that passed in her absence made him crabby and anxious. As frustrated as he was, he understood that things were in upheaval in the Gotei-13 and Soul Society, and her expertise would be needed in the First and, in his absence, at the Eighth. As time went on, his anxiety to know how she was had only mounted.
The moment he was released from the Fourth, he reached out to her. It had been far too long. He'd jumped into shunpo without a second thought. She was waiting on her porch when he arrived in her garden, and before he knew it, they were kissing with an intensity that could rival nearly all of their other kisses. Vaguely, he could remember murmuring desperate words between desperate kisses. Even when they broke apart, he held her tightly to his chest, her arms wrapped around him, holding him just as fiercely.
At the moment, it was so simple: all that mattered was that she was safe.
However, those intense moments were fleeting and to be forgotten. Like all their rare moments of desperation, those desperate kisses and desperate words changed nothing about their relationship. They went on pretending nothing had happened.
He was an intuitive and self-aware man, in tune with his emotions; however, even in all his self-awareness, when sober, he was unable — perhaps unwilling — to confront what he felt for Nanao, let alone what that meant for their relationship. However, late at night, when he was alone, and the sake was flowing, his mind would wander into dangerous territories, namely, the ever-changing state of their relationship. In those moments, he was likely to give into melancholy, specifically about the hopelessness of their future.
"You're right, sir," Nanao said, finishing the last few bites of her dinner, pulling him away from his self-inflicted torture. "This was the best katsudon I've had in a long time."
He smiled and looked up from his nearly empty dish. "See, I told you so! You should believe me more often."
She lifted an accusing eyebrow at him. "Don't let this go to your head."
After the day they'd just had, her glare was a delight, and he couldn't help but breathe his nth sigh of relief that evening. The day's emotional roller coaster still burned in every part of his body. The hell butterfly. The fourth division. The morgue. Turning around to find her standing at the end of that cursed hall. Her lips against his. Breaking the news to their Fifth Seat's spouse. Fill out the incident report. It was all too much.
"Anything for you, Nanao."
Anything. He would do anything for her. The intensity of the feeling was almost frightening.
Her eyes widened briefly — for just a second — and she looked just as stunned as he felt.
Clearing his throat, he started gathering their empty dishes. "Can I entice you into dessert?"
She cleared her throat and readjusted her glasses. "We really should be getting on with this paperwork."
Normalcy.
"We can do both!"
She couldn't leave. Not yet. Not when everything was so fresh.
She paused. "Well. Let me help you clean up, and then we'll see."
Cleaning up was nearly just as awkward. Both lost in their thoughts, the tension of earlier in the day suddenly returned as they cleaned dishes.
Doing such a mundane task rekindled his feeling of unease, the terror from that morning slowly permeating his body, spreading from his chest to the rest of his body. He couldn't help but look at her every so often. He needed to be sure that she wouldn't vanish the instant turned away.
His emotions were all over the place: fear, guilt, and relief. After coming down from the initial terror, he felt shame overwhelm his senses. Just the previous night, he had been joking with their friends about how he had talked Nanao into doing morning patrol. The patrol could have cost his Nanao-chan her life. He'd nearly traded her life for a few hours of sleep. Never mind the fact that it cost their Fifth seat her life. The memory of the woman's body drained of all life on the gurney made his stomach turn. To imagine that it could have been Nanao, his sweet Nanao-chan, on the cold slab was unthinkable.
"Taicho, I know you're stalling. We have to finish this paperwork. The First is expecting it tomorrow morning, and we both know you'll sleep in tomorrow."
The memory of the body on the gurney seemed to haunt him — to imagine that it could have been Nanao, his sweet Nanao-chan, on the cold slab was unthinkable. Something inside him snapped.
"Enough."
"What?"
He couldn't take it anymore.
"Enough about the paperwork." He turned and leaned on the sink; his whole body was so taught he thought he would snap. "Enough."
"Taicho, are you alright?" Her voice was soft and gentle, her eyes filled with confusion and concern.
Kyouraku felt himself succumb to the emotions he usually buried deep inside. He was done with their games and charades — always walking a tightrope between acting out the true nature of their relationship and remaining at arm's length — always orbiting but never intersecting.
"I thought you were dead, Nanao."
He saw Nanao take a step back, clearly unnerved.
"I'm sorry, sir. I should have notified you. I should have let you know earlier — as soon as I changed the schedule — it won't happen again." Her soft voice gave him something to hold on to.
His mind and heart burned with the remaining panic of the day's events. He couldn't take this anymore. He couldn't pretend anymore.
"Let's stop this charade."
"What?" She sounded genuinely confused.
"This charade — these games we're always playing. Let's pause it. I need to — no. We need to deal with what happened today."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice wavered despite what he knew was her desperate attempt to remain steady and unaffected — she was failing miserably.
He sighed. "Yes. Yes, you do."
Suddenly, he couldn't look at her; he needed space to think. To breathe. He turned back to the sink. Bracing himself against it with his hands. Her silence spoke volumes — of course, she knew. She was well-versed in their charades and games—all of them.
She moved forward and rested her hand on his arm. He wasn't sure if she even knew what she was doing. "Taicho, I - I'm sorry for what happened this morning. I didn't mean to upset you."
He turned his head to take her in; he needed to soak in all he could. "I thought you were dead."
She froze in place and held her breath. He couldn't stop himself. The words were tumbling out of his mouth. Whatever this was, they were on the precipice of a conversation that he wasn't sure she — he — was capable of handling.
"I thought you were dead. For however long, in that hellish nightmare, you were gone."
"I'm - "
"Don't apologize." She flinched at the directness of his request. His tone was as close to an order as he ever got.
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to raise my voice." This was getting out of hand. "Let's stop this charade. I'm not saying we change things permanently. But, just for tonight. Please? Just for tonight."
She looked stunned. He could tell she was holding her breath. "I — we — can't just…"
We. There was a we.
He had to explain himself better. This was too important. "You know, I had to tell Yatsuneko's husband that his wife was gone. Dead. That he would never see her again. That he would never speak to her or hold her again. That they would never share another meal."
He could feel himself begin to unravel.
"Do you know what he said?" He bit back a wry laugh. Kyouraku remembered how the man had broken down. He had tried his best to comfort the crying man, but the man lashed out in grief and snapped. "He said that I had no idea what it felt like to hear those words, to hear someone say that the person their whole life revolved around was gone. How his world had been shattered."
She was tense, but he could see a cautious curiosity in her eyes. Her eyes were an overwhelming and electrifying shade of violet. Her reiatsu bathed the room and radiated deep affection, which he'd only ever felt emanating from her.
Fuck it.
"I wanted to say, 'I do. Just a few hours ago, I was in your place." He couldn't look her in the eye and turned back to face the sink. This had gotten out of hand. He was playing with fire and knew he was about to get burned. "And I — I —"
"Enough." It was barely a whisper. Clearing her throat, she reached out to him. "That's enough, Taicho."
He couldn't move move.
"Can you look at me? Please?"
He turned reluctantly to her, trying to keep the torrent of emotions from bleeding through to her. He intended to apologize, to ask her to pretend this had never happened, but was stunned at the warmth and understanding radiating in her gaze.
She reached out to pull his hand away from the kitchen sink. "I'm okay." She brought it to her heart. "I'm okay. We're both okay." She let out a shaky breath.
He raised his other hand to her cheek. "Then, please, even if it's just for tonight — let's drop this charade?"
"You know we can't. You know that if —" she paused, her gaze looking him over the same way she evaluated budgets. "If we do, it will be that much harder to go back to — " This was breaking his heart. "Today was stressful, but we can't just — it's not a good idea."
He brought his other hand to her cheek, cupping her face. "I know the risks. I know it could change everything — but what if it doesn't?" He knew it was a lie. Of course, allowing themselves to feel and express their feelings openly would change everything.
He knew her well enough to know that she knew it was a lie. Of course, once they took that step, it was only a matter of time before they took another and another, and it snowballed through. It would change everything.
"Alright." She rose on the balls of her feet and brought her arms up to wrap around his neck. "Alright. For tonight. No more charades," she spoke into his ear.
He couldn't hold back his hum of satisfaction when she rested her head against his shoulder. Stooping down, he wrapped his arms around her. He had all but given up and resigned himself to accept that they would have to live their long lives with a chasm between them. And then, as always, she surprised him by agreeing to a chance at a life with one less regret.
He held her tighter. "Thank you." He whispered into her hair, voice raspy.
She nodded into his neck and, lowering herself to her feet, brought a hand to his cheek. Her open expression and watery smile entranced him; he rarely saw her eyes unguarded. Raising a hand to cover hers, he nuzzled into her palm. "I promise, Nanao-chan. I promise it'll be okay. You won't regret this."