A week later, their tightrope snapped.
"You have to let me go."
"No."
"I need to get up. I'll be late if I don't."
"But I want to stay with my Nanao-chan just a little longer."
His request was tempting. Far too tempting.
She sighed, and his arms tightened around her middle, bringing her flush to his chest. His presence overwhelmed all her senses. He radiated warmth against her back, his chest expanding with every breath. His scent — that smell of summer that seemed to follow him somehow all year long— was all she could smell.
The comfort she found in his arms was enough to silence her internal clock. Just this once, she would ignore her internal clock and tight schedule.
"Only for a little bit longer." She said in a stern warning — as stern as she could manage in their cocoon.
"My Nanao-chan is so loving to her Shunsui," He cooed in her ear, arms tightening around her waist.
His Nanao-chan. Usually, she would scold him for calling her his. She should scold him for referring to her as such.
He would reply in kind with pouting. Recently, however, in their new game, she'd been letting his soft names and gentle names slip. Bathed in his warmth, she didn't have the energy or desire to scold him. There were other slip-ups, too. Recently, his endearments had lost their teasing tone. In the past, he would call her endearments to tease and rile her up. While they still held the same tone in public, his endearments had melted into soft and gentle words that she couldn't find the energy to admonish when they were alone.
She, herself, had been slipping up. He never outright acknowledged it, but there were times she would catch herself unwittingly calling him by his name — something she would never dare to do when fully aware of her words.
She'd nearly drifted off when she felt his fingertips trace a path up her arm. The light touch had her shivering. The tingling sensation was only amplified when he brought his lips to the exposed strip of skin on her shoulder. His kisses were just as soft as his fingertips, barely grazing her sensitive flesh. She gasped quietly and melted further into the bed as he trailed kisses up her neck.
She shivered when he kissed the shell of her ear and whispered, "come home early tonight, darling."
"I'll try," she said and brought her hand to stroke the arm around her middle.
"Promise?" His hand came to rest on her hips, stroking the strip of exposed bare skin with his thumb, and his lips fell back on her neck.
She felt a heat roar through her body. She placed her hand over the hand at her hip.
"As long as you come to work." She pulled his hand away and sat up.
"Aw, Nanaoo-chan, come back," he whined, reaching for her retreating form.
"Go back to sleep," she commanded, leaving the room without looking back.
Thirty minutes later, she was ready to leave for work. However, she caught herself making her way to the bedroom. She'd developed a most unfortunate habit of checking in on him before leaving for work. He was already asleep on his stomach. Unable to resist the pull of him, Nanao sat by his side. He sighed when she ran her fingers through his hair, brushing the silky curls out of his face.
"Come back to bed, Nanao-chan," he grumbled.
"One of us has to keep the division running, and I have to prepare for a meeting." She ran her nails through his scalp. He groaned, and she felt a shock of adrenaline course through her body.
"The division will be fine; you can stay another hour."
"It will, but the Kido Corps will not take kindly if I show up to a meeting unprepared."
He turned on his side and, seemingly fully alert, opened his eyes to regard her seriously — he was far too serious for early the morning. His sudden change in demeanor caught her off guard.
"Nanao-chan, please be careful," his eyebrows pinched together, "I know what classified projects with the First means. I know it can't be anything good or safe if you've been instructed not to tell me. I need you to promise me that you'll come to me — confidentiality or not — if you need help."
"I will," she couldn't lie, "— if I can, I will."
He sat up and wrapped an arm around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, "Please, just — if it looks like things are taking a bad turn, please come to me."
It was only fair.
"I'll try," she would come to him if she could. Probably. Maybe.
Sighing he dropped his lips to her shoulder. "I just want you safe."
Not this argument again.
Pulling back, she turned to look him in the eye, "You can't keep me from doing things — just because now — because —"
"I always want you safe, not just because…"
She felt her annoyance stirring at his words. "I need you to trust me and my abilities."
He fell silent, and while on the surface he looked as relaxed as he'd been just moments ago, decades together told her that the upturned tilt of his eyebrows meant he was feeling guilty.
Guilty. She'd been right. She looked away and did her best to ignore the tightening in her chest.
"I do, Nanao." He spoke with a calm certainty, but his actions — his actions told her otherwise. Two simple words could not undo years — decades — of holding her back, sequestering her away from any real form of combat.
He shifted closer to her and placed his open palm on her back. "Look at me," he said softly, tipping her chin up. I promise, Nanao. I trust you. Implicitly."
She rubbed her forehead, trying to stave off the now-threatening headache.
"I know that; I know you trust me. But you don't trust in my abilities. You never have." She pulled back and looked away, feeling exposed at finally confronting the stark reality which had haunted her for decades. "Even now, after years — decades — as your Fukutaicho, you've never trusted my abilities."
She looked away, fighting off the burning in her throat.
"Nanao —" His voice was just above a broken whisper.
He would deny it. He always did.
"— No. You cannot deny that your actions when it comes to me in combat — in any situation that could be remotely dangerous — show nothing but your lack of faith, Shunsui."
"Nanao, no, you can't think that."
"Of course I do. What else would you expect of me?" She stood, fighting off the burning in her throat.
She heard him stand and felt his hand hover over her shoulder without making contact.
"I expect you to trust me; I'm your Taicho," he said softly.
Of all responses, that was not what she had expected. It felt like a bucket of cold water poured over her head.
"I expect you to trust my judgment," he continued as though he had not exposed the frayed edges of their new game.
She remained silent, suddenly unable to form words to confront the shock of him pulling rank in their bedroom.
"I do," she said in stubborn exasperation. "I do trust your judgment; that's not the problem. The problem is your trust in me."
He placed a hand on her arm and turned her to face him; the warmth of his hand was a mockery of the cocoon of warmth they'd just been wrapped up in.
"Nanao-chan."
The patience in his voice was grating. How could he remain so calm when her emotions were so uncharacteristically emotionally volatile? She felt embarrassment raise its head within her and briefly wondered if she was being childish. However, his calm expression only served to shut down any attempt at self-control.
"Sweetheart, please, trust me."
Something in her sanity threatened to snap. "It's not about that! It's not about my trust in you — it's about not trusting me."
He sighed and closed his eyes. A perverse part of herself felt an ounce of catharsis from the cracks slowly breaking through his facade.
"Please, Nanao — I've been in my position for a very long time. I know what I'm doing. You need to trust me to know what I'm doing."
She only glared. "Right. So, in your professional opinion — as a Taicho — is that I can't hold my own."
He made a frustrated noise and ran a hand through his hair.
"Are you forgetting that I'm your Taicho — I've seen you in battle — I've trained with you — I know you."
His words took her breath away. Right. He was right. At the end of the day, that's what they were to one another: Taicho and Fukutaicho. Nothing more.
What could she say to that? What could she say to refute the simple reality of their relationship?
She felt trapped between confusion and clarity and had to focus on her breathing to keep herself steady. Any clarity she had after her conversation with Rangiku cracked, and she was afraid of what would happen if it shattered.
She couldn't think of what else to say and relied on the only certainty she had. "Yes, sir." This couldn't get more humiliating or heartbreaking. She'd been deluding herself.
He seemed to realize what he'd said because his eyes widened, and the look of guilt was back. His hand shifted to rest on her shoulder, and she couldn't keep from cringing away. It had been weeks since she shied away from his touch. Her heart broke further when he stepped back at her reaction.
"Nanao, sweetheart —"
"— Don't. Don't." She moved to leave the bedroom but was stopped when he grabbed her hand and turned her to face him.
"Please — Just — I won't say I haven't held you back, but I — I can't risk you."
All her heartbreak fizzled away as anger surged through her self-control. "So then what?! I'm locked away in Logistics — every time!"
His eyes were wide at her explosion.
"Every time. The Winter War. Do you know what that was like? Watching all of you — everyone — fight through screens. Waiting to see if you would come back to me — to see if you'd come home safe!? Every time, Shunsui. Every single time. I run logistics, waiting for you!" She stepped forward and pressed a finger to his chest. "Have you ever considered what that would be like?!"
"Nanao-chan." His gentle tone, the one he used to pacify enemies, drove her to ire.
"You don't know what it's like — holding down all of Seireitei. You think it's simple and easy; let cute Nanao-chan hold down the entirety of the Gotei 13. Do you think that it's easy? Do you even know what happened? What I went through? That I —" Her voice cracked, and she took a steadying breath to fight off the tears of anger burning in her eyes.
His shocked expression only served to anger her more. How dare he look so surprised?
She stepped back and couldn't hold back a sardonic laugh. "You know, the Kido Corps offers me a Taicho-level position every year. Did you know that?"
His silence spoke volumes. His confusion only drove her to ire.
"I turn them down—every time. And every time they come back and ask me. They see value in me — value beyond paperwork." She could feel tears burning but refused to let them fall. "But you — you have no faith in me. Maybe next time, I should accept the Kido Corps; at least then, we could pretend to be equals. Maybe then you'd respect me!"
That seemed to break through his shock. "I do, Nanao!" his voice oscillated between confusion and anger, "I do respect you!"
"Don't lie," she hissed.
"I'm not lying!" This time, his tone leaned closer to anger.
"You've shown me, time and again, that you don't respect me. Not in battle — hell, even at the office, you have no respect for me as your second."
He took a step closer, "So, what, then?! You would walk away from the Eighth? Because of petty pride?"
All semblance of control evaporated. "Petty pride!?" She hadn't been this mad in years. "Is that what you think this is? You think this is petty pride?"
"Of course it is! You can't handle being left to do what you do best — you run Logistics better than anyone else. Someone has to do it, and it has to be you! And you're too prideful to accept that battle is not where you belong."
Her heart faltered, "Where I belong? I'm your second; I belong by your side!"
Their voices had escalated to a volume that any passerby would easily overhear, and she was grateful she didn't have neighbors.
"As Taicho — your Taicho— " Her breath caught. "Knowing my soldier's strengths and weaknesses is my job." His soldier — that's what she was to him. "And you do not belong by my side in battle. You belong in Logistics."
"Then transfer me! Transfer me to the First!" She was shaking with rage. "I'll stay locked up, and you won't have to worry about my strengths or weaknesses. Or better yet! Send me to the Kido Corps. You'll never have to worry about me again."
"Maybe I should," he spat. His tone, dripping with acid, held an air of authority that bordered on a threat. "If your ego needs it so badly and they want you so desperately, leave."
Her chest tightened, and her sinuses burned at his words. "Fine! Like you said — they want me. Good luck keeping up with paperwork!"
"Don't worry about the paperwork; the Eighth will be just fine without you — " He grinned in a way that made her feel sick. " Any replacement will do it just as well you do. So, go ahead; leave, Ise Fukutaicho — you're dismissed from duty."
Replacement. Her whole chest threatened to cave in. Replacement.
She'd know deep down that her swordwork skills were a liability and that her worth was tied to paperwork. She'd known that and thought that, as flimsy as it was, it was enough to keep her at the eighth. But it seemed that even that was not enough. She was replaceable. Of course, she was. Anyone could do paperwork.
Maybe he was right. Perhaps she should transfer. He wasn't wrong. It wouldn't be hard to find someone who could do her job, maybe not as well as her, but the person just needed to be decently competent. Most likely, any replacement would be more skilled in combat than she was.
All the fight left her in a breath, "Okay."
His eyes burned dangerously. "Okay? Just like that? You'd walk away — you'd give everything up — just like that?"
She'd never felt the full magnitude of his anger directed at her. All her senses told her to run and made her want to cower away.
The shame that coursed through her threatened to overtake her. "If that's what you think is best."
"If that's what I think is best? Is that really all you have to say? I never took you for a coward," he hissed. She could hardly recognize the man standing before her; gone was the soft and caring man who had been in her bed not ten minutes ago.
She didn't know what to say to defuse the situation. "Yes" was all she could manage. "If you think a replacement would be best. I trust you as my Taicho. I'll go." Her acceptance only seemed to frustrate him more. He was renowned for his patience, yet every word she spoke seemed to frustrate him further and eat away at his patience.
His eyes burned with a contempt that pinned her to the floor.
"Fine, I'll get the paperwork started. Expect your replacement within a week." His tone imparted a finality that left no room for discussion.
She did her best to hold back a sob, her heart finally shattering. Everything grew distant. She could only hear the sound of blood rushing through her ears. Her legs threatened to give out as she turned around and headed for the bathroom. It wasn't until she was tucked away in the scalding water that she let the sobs come. She had insisted on installing a Western-style shower and was grateful for the noise of the water hitting the tiled floor. Maybe he wouldn't hear.
It wasn't long before she felt his reiatsu disappear.