Nights without Kyouraku had become sleepless and increasingly rare.

The temptation of his arms was nearly too much to bear — nights without him were restless and filled with tossing and turning. More often than not, she would be saved from her discomfort on those nights by knocking on her porch door. She would open the door and find him standing on her porch, his smile endearing and his eyes soft. Within moments, they would be tucked in bed, their reiatsus tangled as deeply as they dared. In the mornings, she would tell herself she welcomed him in the name of rest.

On nights without him where she could find sleep, she would wake at the feeling of soul tugging at hers, and before any critical introspection, she would be at his home. He would greet her waiting by an open door, ready to guide her to bed. On those nights, she would fall asleep curled up in his arms, far more comfortable than she ought to be in a bed that was not her own. In the mornings, she would tell herself she'd gone to him to ensure he wouldn't be lazier come morning.

There were mornings, however, where she had no excuses. They would play their new song and dance — he would tempt her with a home-cooked meal, she would refuse, he would bargain, and, while in the past, she would stand firm, now, she would relent. Regardless of whose house it was, they would eat and have tea on the porch until the late hours. On those nights, there was an unspoken agreement that they would not part. On those nights, they would give into the yearning and fall asleep, wrapped up in each other.

The night before, she had been tired, an oddity given how much better she was sleeping, and had fallen asleep almost as soon as she got home. She had woken to his warm chest against her back and his even warmer reiatsu. Cozy and sleepy, she had, without thought, tipped up her head to meet his lips. They had talked softly about their days, exchanging kisses that melted together and drew into the late hours of the night.

Today, she was paying the price. She was exhausted, and there was so much to do.

She was on hour two of planning the next SWA meeting when a hell butterfly flew in and interrupted her candy budget calculations. She sighed when the butterfly announced a request for backup.

Sighing, she gathered, organized her things, and left for the Rukongai with four more experienced officers.

When she reached the Fifth District, she realized that four officers might have been an underestimation. At least ten relatively large hollows surrounded the cadet team, and, based on their size, she'd have to handle at least four or five of them herself.

"Nishikawa-san, scout the area for more hollows; everyone else spread around and circle the hollows. Take out the hollows as efficiently as you can, and make sure you don't hit the cadets. Keep an eye out for more hollows."

She ran forward towards the group, preparing a bolt of lightning as she went. She made quick work of dispatching the hollows around her when she heard another screech coming from behind her.

She quickly turned to see at least three hollows coming towards their group. She turned and ran as quickly as she could, taking one and another. She could feel her hands starting to burn and knew she should stop before she damaged them too badly. However, there was no time. She turned to dodge an oncoming slash but, miscalculating her surroundings, collided with another hollow. The creature slammed her down into the ground. Exhausted and winded, she considered lying on the ground and letting the hollow stomp her — maybe recovery at the Fourth would help her regain energy. Sighing, she shot up and dodged the blow — there was simply too much work to be done to entertain a stay at the Fourth. With one final push, she sent a ball of fire at the hollow and watched it disintegrate.

The ordeal couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes, yet she was quickly reaching her limit. She was exhausted, with bloodied and burned hands. She hadn't felt this tired in weeks.

"Alright," she said, addressing the group, "is anyone injured?"

Two of them raised their hands.

She set about stopping the bleeding of the wounds before addressing the group to return to the division.

She nodded, "I've healed the worst of it, but please see a healer at the Fourth."

By the time she got back to the office, she was dripping with sweat, her hands were burning, she couldn't take a full breath without her torso aching, and she was moments away from falling asleep.

She had so much work to do.

Arriving at the office, she was not surprised to find Kyouraku waiting for her, his eyebrows furrowed, leaning against his desk and playing with his hat.

"You're hurt," he said as soon as she closed the office door — he could tell when the most minor things were wrong.

"Really, it's nothing, sir." She said, trying her best to shut down the conversation to tend to her throbbing hands.

"This doesn't feel like nothing," he stressed, and only then did she register their reiatsus, which were closely brushing against one another.

"Taicho," she said in warning.

"Nanao-chan," he mimicked her tone, his eyes narrowing.

Ignoring him, she walked around him to sit at her desk and had to keep her temper in check when he blocked her way.

"Taicho, please — I have work to do."

She moved around him, and he firmly grasped her hand. Hissing and wincing, she pulled her hand back.

He looked at his hand, and his eyes flew back to meet hers. Falling under the scrutiny of his gaze was a good reminder of why he was such an unnerving foe to go up against; he gave nothing away when he decided to be serious.

He held up his bloodied hand. "You're injured." He stated, his voice flat.

"It's nothing, sir."

Without speaking, he grasped her upper arm and walked them out of their office and towards the shared office kitchen. He turned on the faucet and reached for her hand again, "May I?"

She could only nod. He gently placed her hand under the lightly running water, and she had to hold back a full-bodied wince with the urge to pull her hand back.

"Just a little bit more." He said, his voice still tight. After weeks of seeing nothing but his softer side, the side that was not hidden by a gregarious front, it was disconcerting to be on the receiving end of his frustration. The tense silence ate her up, but before she could say anything, he removed the hand from underwater and placed it on a waiting towel. He took the same care with her other hand and directed them back to the office.

"I can just use kido now," she said, trying to get a better handle on the situation — she needed space.

"Let me?" His frustration seemed to have faded away, replaced by weariness. "You'll only hurt your hands more if you do the kido yourself."

She grimaced at the feeling of her hand knitting itself together under his healing kido.

"You know," he began, his face far too serious, and she braced herself for an uncomfortable conversation. "You shouldn't be straining yourself like this."

"Sir?"

"You've been overdoing it with whatever kido you're crafting for the First. This afternoon — it was a simple rescue mission, and your hands are all all torn up." He said, turning his focus to her other hand.

Nanao sighed and contemplated how to answer him. She knew she was pushing herself, but she'd done this before, and there were deadlines — the Kido Corps would only afford her so much leniency. They'd had this argument before and would have it again, but today, she didn't have the energy to argue and just nodded.

"I'll pay more attention." She relented.

"No, you have — wait. What?" He looked puzzled. "You're agreeing with me? Just like that? Are you sure you're alright?"

She gave a brief laugh, and he looked more confused. "Yes, Taicho. I'm fine — just maybe a little tired."

"Right." He said, bringing her palm to his lips. "All done."

Trying her best not to blush, Nanao retracted her hands and stared at him, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, darling. You should take it easy today." He said earnestly, his eyes, once again, filled with warmth.

"I'll finish today's paperwork and head home."

"Good." He smiled at her.

"Taicho, since you're here —"

She was cut off by him feigning confusion. "Oh, sorry; did you hear that? I think Ukitake needs me."

Before she could retort, he stole a chaste kiss and jumped out the office window, grinning and barely dodging well-timed kido.

The state of Nanao's hands had been weighing on his mind. Try as he might to nap, his mind kept wandering back to what she could possibly be working on in the First that was so demanding that simple kido and a backup mission had her exhausted and her hands as badly burned as they were.

"I'm worried about her, Ukitake."

"About Ise-san?"

He nodded. "She went out into the field today. Her hands were all torn up, and she was clearly exhausted — I don't think she'd eaten all day."

"Ise-san can determine her limits."

He sighed. "You're right, but I'm worried. I just…"

He was what?

He was scared. He had never handled the idea of Nanao in danger well. However, since they'd lost their Fifth Seat — since he received that hell butterfly — the idea of losing Nanao had haunted him. He had nightmares about failing to protect her, nightmares about waking up to the news that she had died in the field, nightmares of holding her as she passed. It seemed his nightmares were starting to bleed into his days. He just wanted her safe. He needed her safe.

Today, he had been afraid, and when he rushed into the office, he had fought the urge to take her into his arms and sequester them away. Every nightmare scenario his mind had ever concocted was flashing through his mind as he watched her wince and double over in pain. In his turmoil of emotion, he had swung the other way and responded in barely concealed anger.

"You're very dedicated to her."

"What?" Where had that come from?

"You're very dedicated to Ise-san," Ukitake spoke slowly in the same tone he did when explaining something convoluted to academy students.

"Is that a bad thing?" He pushed back instinctively.

"No," Ukitake paused, "not necessarily."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"what happens when you get bored?" Ukitake's voice was gentle.

A preposterous idea. Him? Losing interest in his Nanao? Preposterous.

"I have no intention of getting bored any time soon."

"That's what you always say."

"This time is different." He would not bend on this.

"How so?"

"It just is." Ukitake was always pushing his buttons, trying to get him to say things he wasn't ready to admit.

"You love her," Ukitake stated.

"I —" Yes. Yes, he did. At least, he was pretty sure he did.

"Are you committed to her?"

"Well, I —" Of course, he was. But why couldn't he voice it?

"Would you commit long term — marry her?" His friend's voice was accusatory as if he already knew the answer.

"I…" Would he?

He'd never considered himself a person who committed long-term — had never even considered it a possibility. He'd never felt the urge to settle down, let alone marry. He wasn't cut out for marriage. Not to mention that marriage or any committed bond was a dangerous proposition given his position at the Gotei-13. He knew he would inevitably die in battle — it was only a matter of time. Getting married only to leave a widow, legally married or not, in his wake would be selfish and cruel. To think that the widow could be Nanao, his sweet Nanao-chan, was unthinkable. Even after all they'd been through, especially after all they'd been through, he wouldn't — couldn't — do that to her — not to Nanao.

No. The answer was no.

Ukitake's frown deepened, and his lips tightened. Disapproval. "That's what I thought."

Shit.

However, the longer he sat with the question, the more he couldn't deny that there was a part of him that wondered if, perhaps, it would be worth it. A very selfish part of himself argued that whatever time they did have together would be worth it. Maybe their new games were a sign that whatever future they could have would be worth it. Maybe whatever they shared would be worth the inevitable pain, suffering, and grief when if they lost each other.

Maybe. The answer could be maybe.

Shit.

Ukitake's question had thrown him for a loop. Even after an afternoon of more introspection than he was entirely comfortable with, he was still nowhere near reaching a conclusion about what he felt about Nanao or how he felt about their relationship and whatever future together they may have. Unable to think or relax, he did the only thing he could do — find his usual drinking group.

It had taken time and at least two bottles of sake before he could relax enough to enjoy the night. The group was moving to the next bar when he felt a shift in the air that was all too familiar. Within moments, he saw the tell-tale pinned-up black hair. Despite the afternoon's introspection, he couldn't hold back a smile.

"Nanao-chan!" He called out and had her in his arms before she could protest, easily slipping into their well-established roles.

He saw something spark in her eyes that could only be described as a challenge. The look sent an electric thrill through him, igniting heat at his very core.

"Kyouraku Taicho," she said evenly as she raised a hand lit with kido to his shoulder, sending a zap that only magnified his growing desire.

Grinning, he quickly backed off and held his hands up. "Now, now, Nanao-chan, there's no need for such violence."

She gave him her usual stern glare; however, behind the annoyed tint in her eyes, he could see the building fire within — a fire he was becoming acquainted with and addicted to.

Not sparing him another look, she turned and addressed the rest of the group. "Good evening."

Matsumoto seemed to decide that their hopefully covert moment was done and emerged from the group. "Nanao-chan!"

He could only look over in what he hoped was not an overt jealous expression when Matsumoto wrapped Nanao in her arms.

"Nanao-chan! Come out for a drink with us!" Matsumoto exclaimed, tightening her arms around Nanao.

"Rangiku-san," Nanao said, this time in real annoyance, trying to extract herself.

"Now, now, Rangiku-chan," he said whined as he pried Matsumoto away from Nanao. "My Nanao-chan is, in fact, mine to hold."

"Taicho," she hissed and elbowed him in the ribs; this time, her glare was not a facade.

"Nanao-chan," he whined but kept a hand around her shoulder. "I'll be walking my darling Nanao-chan home," he proclaimed to the group.

She pushed away his arms. "There is no need, Taicho."

"Oh, but Nanao-chan," he cooed, ignoring all the snickers from the group, "I want to make sure you make it home; you never know what could be lurking in the shadows."

"The person most likely to be hiding in shadows to ambush me is you, sir."

The group laughed and agreed before returning to their previous chatter, ignoring the usual Eight Division show.

Walking her home under the guise of ensuring her safety was an argument he made often enough that the group would not question. Much like the rest of their public games, he never stopped his offers, even though she had not once accepted his offer.

This time, however, something about the tilt of her eyebrow and the entrancing intensity in her eyes had him second-guessing himself. The suggestive eyebrow and the shine of desire in her eyes shifted their usual routine and, if he was not mistaken, dared him to follow.

Captured and entranced by her eyes, he met clarity — he would follow her to the ends of time and straight into the abyss.

The fleeting clarity in his certainty of the vow poured freezing water on the flame of desire, his mind reeling back to the afternoon's contemplation — there was nothing in his conviction that even hinted at his newly discovered anxieties. Suddenly, he wasn't sure if playing their increasingly ruleless game was a good idea.

He opened his mouth, but before speaking words he did not yet have, her eyes widened nearly imperceivable and quickly narrowed to a severe and disapproving glare. Damn. She read straight through his conflict.

"There is no need, Taicho." She ducked under his arm.

"But, Nanao-chan," he grinned and whined.

"But nothing, Taicho — " She glared. His stomach tightened when he saw how her previously sparkling eyes were guarded.

She turned away and bid her goodbyes to the rest of the group.

He sighed as he watched her walk away.

"Turned down again, Kyouraku?" Ukitake mocked, his grin wide, still enjoying the aftermath of their conversation.

He sighed dramatically. "You know what my lovely Nanao-chan is like."

"Sure." Ukitake's eyes were sharp, and his message was clear: it wasn't all on Nanao's shoulder.

A drink would surely help with his souring mood.

It was approaching late at night when he felt a pull at his soul. His attention was shifted and he felt alarm bells go off at the strained quality of her reiatsu.

"Well," he said, keeping himself even-keeled, "I'll be going now."

"Already?" asked Matsumoto, "it's not even eleven."

"Getting old — blame Nanao-chan: she woke me up early to run swordwork drills." Not strictly a lie

He bid his goodbyes, left the bar, and waited until the next alley before jumping into shunpo. He arrived at her garden porch to find the bedroom light still on.

Sliding the garden door, he removed his sandals, haori, and robe and called into the house, "Nanao-chan?"

The same wave of cold he'd felt this morning washed over his body when he was met with silence. He knocked on the bedroom door. When he'd had enough of the prolonged silence, he slowly opened the door. She was fast asleep against the headboard, a book resting on her lap. He released a breath he didn't even know he was holding, and his heart swelled.

He carefully approached the bed, and setting her book and glasses aside, he brought a hand to her rest on her thigh, his thumb tracing circles.

"Nanao-chan," he whispered. His worry from that morning resurfaced when she remained deep asleep — they had shared tents in the field enough times for him to know she would wake at the slightest unexpected noise — for her to remain asleep this deeply, she must be exhausted.

He gently shook her shoulder. "Nanao-chan, wake up."

When she stirred, his whole body relaxed. Seeing her so sleepy and soft affected his heart in a way he was not ready to address after his conversation with Ukitake.

"Nanao," he whispered again. As she blinked her eyes open, her confusion faded away. "Hi, sweetheart."

She smiled softly. "Hi."

"Is everything alright?"

She nodded and shifted herself to sit up. Gasping and wincing, she fell back onto the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut, her arms around her waist.

He reached for her as she fell back onto the pillow. "Nanao!"

She opened her eyes, and he held back a sigh at how pained they looked.

"Sore," she said, her voice tight, eyebrows furrowed, and hands wrapped around her middle. "I hit the ground too hard."

He sighed but remained silent; pushing her, especially when she was this tired, was not productive.

He wanted to stay with her and ensure she was alright, but his nerves were on edge after his conversation with Ukitake and the contemplative place it led him to.

Sighing, he raised a hand, shining with kido, to her ribs and slowly worked away the tension and soreness in her muscles.

"Thank you," she said, smiling softly at him. While she'd gotten her color back and looked more alert, an undercurrent of exhaustion ran through her eyes. He pulled his hand away, and she reached for it, grasping it lightly.

He was stuck. His body craved to crawl into bed beside her and fall asleep, wrapped in her arms. However, after his conversation with Ukitake, he needed to think. It would be for the best they spent the night apart. Distance, at least for tonight, was for the best.

"You should rest," he said, standing up and letting his hand slip away from her loose grasp. "I'll see myself out."

Her shoulders slumped slightly, and the dejected look of rejection in her eyes nearly made him change his mind. Nearly.

"Goodnight," she said quietly and rearranged herself on the bed.

"Goodnight, Nanao-chan."

His resolve had faltered by the time he was at the garden door. He should go — it was the correct decision. However, the resignation he saw in her eyes stilled his hand. She had reached out to him earlier, and it was clear she was not feeling well; to leave her now would be cruel.

Quiet footsteps sounded behind him.

"Don't go."

How could he deny her anything when she sounded so small and uncertain?

He paused but did not turn around. He should go.

A hand grasped the back of his haori.

"Please, Shunsui?"

He couldn't hold back a sharp inhale; to hear her say his name intentionally had his heart swelling in affection. Every other time, his name had slipped from her lips, seemingly against her will, drawn out by fear or worry. This was the first time he'd ever heard her say his name with no anxiety — only a soft yearning. How could he deny her anything when she spoke his make with such care?

He dropped his hand and turned. His heart again stuttered at the sight of her. Her expression was unguarded, radiating a warmth he only associated with her presence. It was rare to see such naked affection painting her features; he could drown in it.

"We'll both sleep better?" She said, smiling shyly, her voice still tentative. His heart picked up; his Nanao-chan was anything but shy and tentative. She extended a hand, but he was still stunned; he could only stare at her it — small and milky white, confusion and indecision wrapped in a promise of comfort. Before he could spiral into further introspection or stop himself, he grasped her hand.

"Let's go to bed." He said softly, not to break their moonlight spell.

He was bathed in affection and care when he met her eyes, which melted away all his doubt and confusion.

He couldn't bring himself to regret his decision to stay.