Kyouraku Shunsui is, at heart, a simple man. A simple man who enjoyed the simple pleasures of life. A peaceful nap, good company, good sake, and his Nanao-chan's smile. Nothing about his day was simple.
Only in the deepest recesses of his mind, shaped by his worst fears, could he possibly conjure a more terrifying morning. He'd returned home from his evening out at an uncharacteristically early hour and had promptly fallen asleep. Much to his distaste, he awoke right before dawn.
Out of habit, he reached out and felt the warm blanket of Nanao's reiatsu permeate his senses. She was calm and on her way to the office. He knew she could feel him and was delighted she was tolerating his presence, especially given how annoyed she'd been with him the previous day. She would be getting ready to go on patrol. He was he was torn. He was awake enough to take Nanao-chan's patrol — after all, it was his fault she'd gotten so little sleep that it would only be right. Or he could go back to sleep and find a way to make it up to her in the afternoon. In the end, the promise of sleep won out. He was, after all, a simple man, and sleep was a simple pleasure.
His descent into hell started with an incessant itch on his nose — a hell butterfly. Surely, he could ignore it in favor of sleep. What could be so pressing that his Nanao-chan, in her infinite efficiency, could not handle? He rolled over. The hell butterfly persisted. That's right. Nanao-chan was in the field this morning.
Groaning, he reached out.
"Incident report: fatality reported on routine patrol. Eighth division officer - found dead on arrival. Report to Fourth division."
That made no sense — Nanao was on patrol today.
An icy hand reached into his chest and strangled his heart. Sitting up in disbelief, he re-listened to the message.
Incident report. No.
Fatality reported on routine patrol. No.
Eighth division officer. No.
Found dead on arrival. Nononono
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He was going to be sick. This could not be happening. It had to be a mistake. She had to be safe — she was supposed to be safe.
He was sure that never, in his long life, had he moved faster than that morning — the message from the hell-butterfly running on a loop through his mind.
Fatality reported on routine patrol.
A shock of white blocked his path to the Fourth. Why would Ukitake be standing at the entrance of the Fourth's healing center? "Ukitake, what are you doing here?"
"Shun, Unohana-san asked me to join you." His ears rang at Ukitake's answer, his anxiety skyrocketing. They would only send for Ukitake if they needed someone to calm him — if the situation were dire.
"Why would she do that?" He tried to keep his breathing steady. This simply could not be happening.
Ukitake reached for his arm. "Shun… I —" He cleared his throat, his voice shaky. "I'm so sorry."
He could feel himself losing control of his senses. Dead on Arrival. He was going to be sick.
"This has to be a mistake. There has to be a mistake. I'm sure she's back and at the office. I can find her." Why hadn't he thought of reaching out to her reiatsu before?
"I can feel—" He froze. He couldn't feel her. Her reiatsu, usually so easy to find, was gone. Her reiatsu, which he would unconsciously gravitate towards in the mornings, routinely search for throughout the day, and check in on before falling asleep, was gone. She had disappeared without a trace. His world stopped turning. "I can't feel her."
"Jyuu, where is she?" Fatality "Why can't I feel her!?" He couldn't breathe.
"I'm so sorry, Shunsui," Ukitake's gentle tone, which he used with scared division members, made him want to cover his ears.
Eighth Division officer. Found dead on arrival.
"Shun, I don't know what happened, but you need to calm down." He felt a hand on his arm. "Your reiatsu is all over the place."
"No. There has to be a mistake. Where's Unohana-san!?" Now, he was irate. How could they make such a careless mistake?
He pushed the hand away, stormed towards the Healing Unit, and found Unohana standing by the main doors, ostensibly waiting for him. This could not be happening.
Fatality.
He tried again to search for Nanao and found only the absence of her usually ubiquitous presence.
He was going to be sick.
"Kyouraku Taicho, I must ask you to reign in your reiatsu. It could hinder our healing processes."
"Where. Is. She."
"Shun, Shun, you need to call down. Ise-san —"
"Don't —" He was going to scream. "Don't tell me to calm down."
"Kyouraku Taicho, I'll have to ask you again. Please, reign in your reiatsu." Her tone left no room for discussion.
He did his best to control the whirlwind of emotions flowing through him.
"Now, if you'll follow me."
He could feel stares as he walked through the Fourth. Did they all know?
Eighth Division officer. He couldn't see straight.
Dead on arrival. He couldn't breathe.
Unohana led them down the stairs to the lowest level of the Healing Unit and opened a door.
Morgue
His feet felt cemented to the floor.
This was all his fault: he had pushed her to take on patrolling because he wanted to sleep in. He led her to her death all because he selfishly wanted a few more hours of sleep. Worst of all, he knew she'd known it was all a ploy, and rather than deny him those few hours of sleep, she went along with it anyway. He felt tears burning in his sinuses — he'd done this.
Distantly, he felt a hand on his arm. "Shun, you need to stay calm. Keep going."
Keep going? How was he supposed to do that when she was —
Turning towards the hand on his arm. "Jyuu? Please? She — they said. She can't be — she was supposed to be safe. I can't —" His mouth ran dry before he could finish his sentence.
There it was again, that deeply apologetic look bordering on pity. Dead on Arrival. "Please? Jyuu?" He was pleading now.
"Kyouraku Taicho, please come this way." He followed Unohana numbly through the doors.
Fatality. She was supposed to be safe. He did everything in his power to keep her safe.
Unohana's Fukutaicho— he couldn't remember her name — came to meet them. Her red-rimmed eyes were all he needed to see to stop his thundering heart altogether. His heart wasn't beating anymore. He was sure of it.
"Where —" He was going to throw up. "Where is she?"
Unohana-san's Fukutaicho— what was her name again? Suddenly, it was essential to remember her name. "They're just bringing her —" She, whatever her name was, couldn't look him in the eye, "her body in." She choked back a sob.
His ears were ringing. This was all wrong.
"Kyouraku Taicho, we need you to confirm it's her."
"No. Please, no." He was confused. What was happening? Fatality. Eighth Division. Dead on Arrival. How could this be happening?
He saw two members of the Fourth Division pushing a gurney with what appeared to be a body covered in a white sheet down the hall into a room that he had seen far too many times in his long life.
"Is that?" He heard his own voice. It sounded distorted and far away. Everything felt distorted and far away.
No.
No No No
Unohana's voice was filled with pity, "Kyouraku Taicho, I know this is difficult, but we have to do the identification to confirm it's her."
Difficult. Difficult didn't begin to cover this.
Fatality. Eighth Division. Dead on Arrival.
"Kyouraku Taicho, I'm sorry I'm late; I only just got the message." A voice rang out in the hallway. Her voice. He gasped, frozen on the spot. His mind was cruel to play such jokes on him.
And yet.
Out in his periphery, he could see Ukitake whip around. "Ise-san. You're here."
"Oh my!" Unohana was also reacting to the voice.
"Ise-san? Oh, thank the gods!"
This had to be real, then.
Searching, he found the steady and familiar presence behind him.
"What's going on?" Her voice sounded apprehensive. Apprehensive but gloriously real.
Gloriously Alive.
He slowly turned around, and she stood at the end of the hall, looking slightly disheveled.
"Nanao," he could only muster a whisper.
Her eyebrows were downturned; her eyes were filled with trepidation. "Taicho, I apologize, I — "
He was down the hallway in half a heartbeat, gathering her tightly in his arms. "Nanao." Suddenly, he could breathe again. All he could sense was her – safe – alive – in his arms. Out of his periphery, he caught sight of Ukitake ushering the others out of the hallway. Good. He wasn't sure he had control of his actions. He could not bring himself to care about propriety in his moment, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd tangled his fingers into her hair and captured her lips. He felt her freeze, but she kissed him back within moments just as fiercely. The kiss was all desperation.
She was alive. Her soft lips, moving ardently with his; her hair, silky under his fingers; her heart, racing against his chest; the little noises she made, singing in his ears — she was alive. Her hands fisting in his uniform and pulling him closer only served to further his yearning and deepen the kiss.
Only then did he realize they should not be doing this in such a public place, and he broke away. He rested his forehead against hers as they caught their breath, both breathing rapidly.
He pulled back, but still too anxious to be parted, kept one arm loosely wrapped around her waist and raised his other to trace her cheekbones with his thumb. She sighed lightly and, eyebrows upturned she opened her eyes. He was mesmerized by the soft violet of her eyes, shining warmly up at him. He retraced her cheekbone once more and ran his reiatsu along hers. It was pure magnetism — beyond his control. He couldn't be more grateful when he felt her shiver in his arms and couldn't hold back a sigh when she responded and returned his caress. He wasn't sure if she meant to or if it was instinct. It didn't matter. So long as she was alive, it didn't matter.
"You're okay," he muttered, slipping his hand around her shoulders and up her back to pull her flush against him. Her arms slipped around him as she returned his embrace. He relished in her warmth.
He pulled back and raised a hand to cup her face. "Where were you?"
"I changed the schedule last night — I was running behind — I didn't think," she stumbled through her words, her voice uncharacteristically tight.
The shame and regret in her eyes troubled him. He had been the one to suggest she go on patrol. She would have been dead. He risked her life for a few hours of sleep.
Still, it didn't explain why he couldn't find her — feel her. There was no room for misunderstanding after his morning couldn't bear it. "I couldn't find you."
"I was at the first, working on new kido. I had wards up." She explained slowly, and he knew she'd understood his meaning.
"I thought — I thought —" He couldn't bear to say those words.
"You thought that I - that it was me?"
At her words, he drew a sharp breath. He couldn't handle those words. Fatality. Dead on arrival. He had just calmed down enough to process her slender form against his, breathing and alive. He felt his heart pick up and knew she could probably tell. He couldn't return to the dark and desperate place he found himself in mere minutes ago.
"Taicho." Her arms tightened around his uniform. Only then did he realize that he had forgotten his Taicho robe and haori in desperation to get to the Fourth. "Taicho, it's okay. I'm okay," she whispered into his chest.
Not ready to give up the comfort of holding her, he pulled back just enough to look her over. He had to be sure. "Nanao-chan, I thought — They said," He stuttered, his body not yet come down from the adrenaline. Trying to reign his emotions in, unable to speak louder than a whisper, he asked, "What happened?"
She shook her head and looked away; her distress apparent. "It's my fault." He brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. "I reassigned my patrol. I didn't think this would happen. I'm sorry." Her hand came to grip the front of his uniform.
The words from the hell-butterfly were still ringing in his ears. He couldn't help but shudder. He couldn't speak it. Taking a risk, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before dropping his forehead against hers, his arms tightening around her, and murmured softly, "It'll be alright, sweetheart."
"Kyouraku Taicho. Ise Fukutaicho. We have a lot to discuss." Unohana's voice steady voice broke through their cocoon of comfort.