Ise Nanao was a simple woman who enjoyed the simple pleasures of life—good tea, a well-written book, and a relaxing afternoon free of paperwork. However, nothing about this day had been simple. Sitting with Kyouraku Taicho and openly enjoying his company was not a simple pleasure—it was an addicting and complex pleasure that rang through her entire body.
She had accepted his dessert offer, and they sat next to each other on his exceedingly comfortable couch, eating cake. Like his katsudon, his cake was exquisite, better than anything she'd ever baked.
He motioned to the papers she'd seen earlier. "Nanao-chan, would you like to hear the poetry I've written for you this month? I have a whole stack."
"I most certainly would not."
"But — "he pouted.
"I know what's on them and would rather not hear it spoken out loud." She felt a blush creep up her neck at the mere thought of the contents of the papers.
"There are some lovely parts, ones that even your sensibilities would approve of," he said, grinning wolfishly.
She knew there were quite sensible and rather lovely — it was almost more embarrassing than the salacious parts. "No. I would still rather not."
"Oh, come on, Nanao-chan." He whined.
"No." she said, doing her best to keep her tone stern; however, she couldn't hold back her smile — his joy was infectious. He seemed to have recovered from his earlier fright. But he was so good at acting, and there was still something distant in his gaze. She needed to be sure. Pushing past her anxiety, she set her plate aside and turned to face him.
His eyes widened, and she felt her anxiety rise — she was going to cross yet another line. She pushed through and enveloped his hands between hers.
"Nanao-chan?" His eyes widened. If she were honest, she'd say that she, too, was surprised— quite surprised.
"Taicho," She began; how would she approach something so delicate? She would rather avoid falling down this line of inquiry, but the feeling of his arms holding her tight haunted her — she could still feel his reiatsu, bathed in terror, running across her own. She would be brave, for his sake.
By the pinch of his brow, it was clear that he was bracing himself.
She tightened her hand around his. "Are you sure you are alright?"
His frown only deepened.
"I'm more than okay, sweetheart. I've never been better." He smiled. Liar. As jovial as his voice was, he couldn't mask the trouble simmering under the surface. He was so quick to mask his hurt for the sake of others. She needed to be sure.
She would be brave. "Stop. We said no charades tonight."
He deflated and sighed. "No, I don't think I'm okay." He shook his head. "But this —" He freed his hands to gesture between them. "This is helping more than you know."
He smiled, and she breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. Her heart warmed at his honesty because, as open as he was, Kyouraku Taicho was a secretive man who kept his emotions close to his chest. His honesty spoke volumes about his trust.
"Alright."
With infinite care, Kyouraku placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly leaned in. She froze in anticipation, and when his lips met her forehead, all her anxiety and trepidation melted away. He'd kissed her like this before, plenty of times. However, something about the way his lips lingered this time was different. Something about this was earnest in its warmth — not even the summer sun could compete.
He slowly pulled back and, leaning his forehead against hers, ran a hand down her arm. He smiled softly as he covered her hand with his own. He breathed a sigh and seemed to deflate. "You know," he began, "Ukitake was waiting for me at the Fourth this morning. I was —" His thumb started to trace circles on her hand. "I knew the situation had to be bad if they called for Ukitake."
She reached for his free hand and brought it to her lap.
"I knew they would only send for him if, well, they needed to keep me in check." He stopped and looked away; his eyes dulled in a way she'd only seen when the weight of his years weighed on his shoulders.
"Taicho," she whispered.
He turned to face her once more, his eyes more troubled than before. "When I saw that gurney and that sheet, I — I couldn't think, or breathe, or see straight. But then…there you were. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me."
She nodded, pushing through the self-restraint that typically guided her every action. She entwined their fingers through the hand she held in her lap. They had said no games, and his comfort overrode any restraint.
"I was so relieved when I saw you, Nanao." He reached his free hand to caress her cheek. "I don't know what I would have done if it had been you, sweetheart." He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
"I have no plans of going anywhere."
She had no plans of going anywhere tonight. However, come tomorrow, she knew they would have to return to the status quo, each to return to their respective roles in their carefully acted-out game. Come tomorrow, their games would demand that tonight and their truce be forgotten and ignored, never to be spoken of again.
He caressed her cheek and smiled softly, his eyes filled with melancholy.
He sighed once more and, suddenly, lit up with joy. "Let's watch their stars, Nanao-chan?"
His lighthearted suggestion broke through the tension.
"It's chilly outside."
"We can share a blanket. Or better yet! I'll just keep you warm." She looked at him with suspicion. "No funny business, I promise." He held his hands up.
Funny business. That was another thing they hadn't discussed. They agreed silently that "funny business" would be a line they couldn't cross, desperate kisses or not. Once crossed, there would be no turning back. It couldn't just be one night.
"Fine, only if we use blankets and no funny business." She relented.
"Ooh. My sweet Nanao-chan wants to share a blanket!" He moved to stand.
"I never said that."
"Alright, alright. I'll do you one better — let me make tea."
Alone with her thoughts, Nanao was left to ponder what she had agreed to. If she were honest about her desires—and she rarely was—she had yearned for this closeness longer than she cared to admit. For years now—decades—every lingering touch and shared look held such promise. However, dwelling on those brief moments was a recipe for disaster. It only intensified the ache for more and opened the door to heartbreak.
They had opened the door to heartbreak, and tomorrow was waiting impatiently.
Their time was so limited and so precious. There were so many things she wanted to say. However, speaking her heart's desires and truths, even to herself, would rip the door off its hinges and leave her exposed and raw. The heartbreak would be unfathomable. To have him and lose him would rend her very soul.
Tomorrow would be torture.
Was one night together worth the torture that was to come?
There was a reason they hid behind their unspoken boundaries. While it was okay for division members, even seated officers, to be in a relationship, a relationship between a Taicho and a Fukutaicho of the same division would be heavily scrutinized. They would be found guilty. She would be transferred, most likely to the Kido-Corps. They offered her a position within their ranks every year without fail. They'd never let her leave, and there would be nothing Kyouraku Taicho could do; once she was in their grasp, they would never let her leave.
Beyond the concern over their positions in the Gotei-13, she wasn't entirely sure she could cope with her feelings for Kyouraku Taicho. Her feelings for him were too strong and complicated to fully grasp, let alone understand. In the moments where she deluded herself into imagining and wishing for a future together, she could only see that future ending in regrets and heartbreak.
He was a pillar of stability in her life, and their relationship was too important — too meaningful — to her. Their relationship was delicately balanced on a fulcrum, and if it were to tip in the wrong direction, she wasn't sure she could keep herself from toppling over with it. She'd be unmoored, and it would take years to regain her footing.
"I know that look."
She wondered if there was anything about her that he did not know.
"Taicho, tomorrow is a busy day. It might be better if I — "
His hand captured the hand she had on the table. "Nanao-chan, we agreed to drop the charade for today. Now, tell me what scenarios your beautiful brain has concocted while I made this lovely tea."
His eyes shifted away from hers, focusing intently on the tea as he poured it, his hands slightly twitching. He was scared. Of course, he was. She knew what this meant to him, that this was a risk they were taking together.
She also knew that he would let her go if she asked. All she had to do was ask, and he would pretend that this had never happened. Nothing would change.
She took a deep breath. Nanao was nothing if not a woman of her word. "What if this gets out of hand? The Kido-Corps would have me the second this got out."
"It won't get out of hand." His matter-of-fact tone stopped her spiraling. "This is just for tonight. Remember? Just tonight."
Right. She had somehow nearly forgotten that this would not continue and had forgotten, for a moment, that tomorrow, it would be like none of this had ever happened. She felt the sting of tears. She cleared her throat, "Right."
"Now, I promised you tea and stars."
"Yes, you did."
His darling Nanao-chan, at her core, was a person who valued precision and order and had a deep aversion to precarity. So, he couldn't be more grateful that she was sharing this risk with him.
Sitting on the porch with Nanao, under the cover of the night and stars, was not where he expected to be when he woke up—the day had been a roller coaster of emotions: terror, grief, desperation, relief, and adoration. In the morning, he had lost hope of ever having the opportunity to share this with Nanao. In the afternoon, when breaking the news to Yatsuneko-san, he could only wish for this moment.
His Fifth Seat's husband's heart-wrenching sobs still reverberated in his mind. Centuries of experience in the Gotei-13 had taught him that he could have done nothing to alleviate the man's grief. Grief was an entity that, once greeted, walked beside you for the rest of your life. Over time, the pain would lessen, but the wound would never fully heal; one had to make peace with its companionship.
He'd nearly met grief again this morning — a grief that had Nanao's name. A cold chill settled over him at the prospect of having to live with such grief.
Tentatively, he stretched his reiatsu. Given their current position, establishing an intentional connection would cross yet another line. However, he could not deny the comfort he felt when she seemingly unconsciously accepted his caress and lightly entangled their reiatsu. Without facing her, he slipped his hands over hers. Sitting side-by-side and looking into the garden while sipping tea, he felt no need to break their companionable silence.
"I should have gone myself." She broke through her silence, her voice tense.
He sighed and tightened his hold on her hand. "Nanao-chan." He ran his thumb over the back of his hand and turned to face her.
She looked over at him, her eyes troubled, her guilt palpable. "It was my responsibility. I would have been better equipped to handle whatever threat Yatsuneko-san faced."
She would have. It was an undeniable fact. As a Taicho — her Taicho — he knew she was right; as a Fukutaicho, she would have been more than equipped to handle whatever their Fifth Seat faced — or so he hoped. Selfishly, he was glad she had changed the patrol. He was relieved that it hadn't been her that had to deal with whatever unknown entity had killed their Fifth, a not-so-insignificant selfish part of him whispered.
Only time and experience would allow her to understand the unavoidable likelihood of these tragedies. He cupped her cheek. "It's not your fault, Nanao-chan. It could have been anyone in that situation — you couldn't have known what would happen. You did what you thought was best based on the information you had at the time."
Frowning, she nodded and exhaled. "Right."
There would be no convincing her otherwise; like grief, she would learn to cohabitate with this feeling, and he would be there to help her through it.
He stroked her cheek with her thumb once more. "It'll be alright, darling." He leaned forward, kissed her forehead before releasing her cheek, and, once again, wrapped her hand in his.
He stroked the top of his hand lightly. "Are you cold? Your hands are freezing."
"My hands are always cold."
"They don't have to be. At least not for now." He would take a risk — this was a tipping point. "You don't have to be cold either — I can see you're cold." He said, grinning and spreading his blanked wide.
She looked at him curiously — curiosity was better than outright rejection. Through their decades together, he'd gotten to know every one of her faces. In her curiosity, he saw her work through alarm bells, a careful consideration list of pros and cons, hesitation, and, finally, determination.
She nodded, and he rearranged himself to lean against the open sliding door. He bent the leg furthest from her and waited for her to move. Slowly and with care, like a cautious and skittish cat, she settled herself between his legs, her back tense. He waited for a breath before wrapping his arms around her, enveloping them both in the blanket.
When she relaxed against his chest, he hummed in pure contentment and couldn't help but kiss the top of her head. Something about relaxing with Nanao like this brought a serene bliss to his soul, and while he wasn't ready to name precisely what he felt for her, he knew it was more consequential than anything he'd ever felt for another woman.
He couldn't remember a time when he felt this relaxed. He had taken hundreds of naps in beautiful cherry blossom groves, yet he was sure he had never felt this calm.
She turned her head and looked up at him, her eyes shining softly against the candlelight before snuggling deeper into his embrace. Yes, whatever he felt for her was much too complicated and consequential to put into words — at least for now.
He pressed another kiss, this time to her temple. Bliss.
"How do you feel about sleeping under the stars now, Nanao-chan." he teased.
She rolled her eyes and faced forward. "I concede, you do make some good points."
He chuckled, nuzzled her head, and was rewarded with a soft sigh.
"See, you should listen to me more often — I make good points, sweetheart."
"Sure, remind me of that again next time you and Matsumoto drink yourselves into a stupor. It might lessen the consequences." She teased him back. He kissed her temple — he seemed couldn't stop himself.
He laughed at her failed threat. "Oh! Have you heard what happened last week with Ran-chan at the sake bar?"
"You mean when Hitsugaya Taicho found her in the Tenth Division offices nearly naked, wearing a wig that looked like his hair? It came up briefly at this week's SWA meeting. How did that even happen?"
The conversation had always flowed naturally between them, and their current closeness only seemed to open the levees.
"Well, you see, we were at the bar, and Rangiku-chan made a bet with Abarai-kun …" He started to recount the story animatedly, doing impressions of their friends as he went. He wasn't sure when it happened, but one of his hands began tracing paths up and down her arm under her sleeve, and she had started to trace mindless patterns on the forearm wrapped around her middle.
Her soft voice reverberated against his chest, and her laughter, warmth, and delicate touch made him feel alight.
He chucked, and she laughed at a particularly salacious part of the story. He was so enraptured by the way she buried herself deeper into his arms when he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Bliss.
"Is that when Hitsugaya Taicho walked in to see Rangiku-san wearing a wing that looked like his hair?" She said through giggles.
He couldn't back his own laughter. "Yes! And Abarai-kun dressed as Kuchiki-san — I heard half of the Tenth Division offices froze." He ended the story, both laughing at the thought of poor Hitsugaya Taicho's misfortune.
In a moment of laughter, he caught Nanao looking up at him, asking about his involvement in the whole ordeal, her eyes filled with levity and what he would like to classify as fondness — or something more. Her eyes shone in the moonlight, an electrifying violet, somewhere between blue and purple. Holding her in his arms, under the stars, he wanted to melt into the endless depths of her eyes. Before he could stop himself, he had leaned down and pressed his lips against her cheek. His lips lingered, and when she relaxed even more against him, tilting her head, he smiled and kissed her cheek again.
Her breath caught, and his lips brushed her ear. "Thank you, Nanao-chan."
This was bliss.