Halfway through the weekly Fukutaicho meeting, Nanao felt a tug at her consciousness, which usually meant that her Taicho was looking for her. She opened her reiatsu to him and felt his presence swirl around her — he was bored. Of course. He quickly grew bored at Taicho meetings and always resorted to bothering her. She shoved at his reiatsu and tried to return her focus to Sasakibe Fukutaicho. Within moments, she felt him pestering at the edge of her conciseness again. Trying a different tactic, she poked back at him sharply, and his presence seemed to dance with laughter in response. The man was impossible. And so began their long-standing game of tag during long and, admittedly, boring meetings.

Her name brought her attention back to the meeting: "Ise Fukutaicho, we've read your report on the death of the Eighth Division Fifth seat and, because of the anomalies, are opening a formal investigation. Yamamoto Soutaicho would like you to investigate the district for any unusual activity. You will receive a brief by the end of the week."

She nodded. "Yes, Sasakibe Fukutaicho. I'll keep the First Division informed of the investigation progress." She kept a steady voice and a neutral face to avoid giving away the nausea she felt at the thought of their Fifth Seat's death.

Without missing a beat, she felt Kyouraku's reiatsu run questioningly against hers and found herself sinking into his comfort while working to maintain her composure, which, in turn, only made him worry more. Even when she had regained her composure, she held the same level of connection with him — he would be receiving a brief of the assignment, too, and was not likely to take it well.

She could tell when he heard the news—his presence darkened and grew cold. Immediately, she deepened their connection, caressing his spirit in an attempt to soothe his dampened mood. He returned the caress, just enough for them to draw comfort from one another. Paying attention to the rest of the meeting was a lost cause; there would be no way to avoid thinking about the loss of their Fifth Seat.

The second the meeting ended; she was out the door. There was no time for small talk; she needed to get to him. Based on his mood, she knew he would be at the office as soon as his meeting ended.

She opened the office door to find him leaning against his desk, his posture coiled.

"Nanao-chan." His voice was tense.

She failed to suppress a sigh. "I know."

"I'm going with you."

Of course.

"No, Taicho —"

"Nanao-chan." A warning.

"No, sir. The assignment came from Yamamoto Soutaicho."

"There's no need for you to go alone — I'll accompany you," he insisted, his tone more forceful. He rarely used that tone with anyone, let alone her. However, she would not be held back simply because he was anxious. She was more than capable of taking care of herself.

"With all due respect, sir, I see no reason why you should accompany me on this investigation. Unless you can name a reason?" She dared him.

"No —" He eyed her sharply. "I need to be there."

Taken aback, she pushed back no impulse. "You think I can't handle this."

"That's not what I said." His tone was now a sharp frustration that bordered on anger.

He glared at her in the tense silence, neither unwilling to voice the real reason he didn't want her going alone. She could feel the anger spread throughout her body. This was a long-standing argument that she did not have the patience to have this afternoon.

"But that's what you meant. You think that something will happen, and I won't be able to defend myself," she hissed.

It was true that, depending on the scale of conflict, she was more useful in strategic oversight positions than in on-the-ground combat. Her absence in battles led to myriad rumors about her combat competency, and, though unintentionally, Kyouraku Taicho constantly fanned the flames of the rumors.

Many shinigami viewed his overprotectiveness and his reticence in assigning her to field missions as a sign of a deficiency in combat on her part. She couldn't care less about how others perceived her.

Rationally, she knew that Kyouraku Taicho knew and believed she attained the rank of Kido Master and Fukutaicho on her own merits. Rationally, she knew that he knew she could defend herself and perform her duties as well as any other Fukutaicho. However, after years of Kyouarku sequestering her away during combat, the fear that he didn't trust her abilities always lingered in the darker recesses of her mind.

Though situations like this assignment were rare, his anxieties always had her fears simmering to the surface.

"That's not what I said." Again, his severe tone and the coldness emanating from his reiastu only reinforced her doubts. She turned away, refusing to show any of the doubt coursing through her.

"Then what, sir?" If he was going to insist on coming along, she would make him tell her why he thought she was incapable of completing the assignment on her own.

He remained uncharacteristically silently and still.

"I'll be starting the investigation tomorrow."

"Nanao-chan — "

"I'll be going out to the 37th District to run an exploratory survey of the district. When I last spoke to the Fourth, Unohana Taicho said that the cause of death was an abdominal puncture wound. She said they weren't sure if a hollow or another person caused it. We'll have to get a sense of what the hollow population is like."

"I'll take care of it. Just tell me what you need, and I'll do it—"

"No, Taicho. Unless you have a reason — a real reason based on my professional capacities — that I could not complete a simple exploratory mission, I will be going alone tomorrow."

"Nanao-chan, please."

"Before I —" She cleared her throat. "Before I reassigned the patrol to Yatsuneko-san, I didn't see any reason to be wary of the district. There was some unusual hollow activity, but nothing warranted any particular concern. Had I been concerned, I wouldn't have — I wouldn't have allowed Yatsuneko-san to take my place." She took off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose and sighed.

He relaxed and moved forward to place a hand on her arm, "This isn't your fault. There was no way you could have known this would have happened. We don't even know what happened. Which is why I should be the one to go —"

"That doesn't change the fact that I was supposed to be on that patrol and would have most likely fared better than Yatsuneko-san. If anything, it should be my name —"

"Don't —"

"If anything, it should be my name on this form." She held up the brief from the First Division.

"Nanao." His eyes were blazing with a myriad of emotions, frustration chief among them. It was rare for them to have a serious disagreement. They had their tiffs, but fights involving genuine anger were a rarity.

"That's what you think, isn't it?" She felt her anger rising and stared out the window, trying to ignore the sting of tears. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "You think that if I were to go on this assignment, I wouldn't be able to take care of myself and end up in a body bag."

He grasped her arm, turning her to face him. "Stop." Again, his severe tone and the coldness emanating from his distant reiastu only reinforced her doubts.

"Why?" She removed her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose against — she would not cry in front of him. "Why? When it's the truth — everyone knows it. Sweet little Nanao-chan can't be trusted in the field because if she ran into a hollow, she'd surely end up —"

"— stop." His hand tensed, and he pulled her into his arms. "Don't finish that sentence." His reiatsu, which had been simmering with anger and frustration, was now tinged with the stirrings of fear. "Please."

Her hands came up to push him off, but she remembered the last time he reacted like this: when they were standing by the morgue. He tightened his arms around her, his body trembling slightly, and his reiatsu distressed. Her anger began to drain, and as a tender emotion overcame her, she returned his embrace, wrapping her arms around his larger frame.

"That morning," he rasped, shifting her in his hold to bury his head in her hair. "I can't do that again." His reiatsu ran across hers so smoothly that she forgot they'd been arguing moments before. She reciprocated the touch and wrapped him tight with her reiatsu.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest. "I shouldn't have said that so carelessly."

He only nodded into her hair. She let him stay there, running her hand across his back.

Pulling back and keeping her in a loose embrace, he raised his hand to smooth back an errant strand of hair before cupping her cheek. "I'm sorry too, Nanao-chan."

She reflexively closed her eyes when his thumb stroked her cheek. "I know you can do this investigation. I have no doubts about your abilities. You know that, right?"

She opened her eyes and made brief eye contact with him. Maintaining eye contact with him was too overwhelming in their current position. His eyes still held the same intensity — a swirl of frustration and emotion she did not dare name after That Night. It was too much.

His finger tilted chin up. "Look at me, Nanao." Her hands clenched on his kimono at his back as she forced herself to maintain eye contact. "You know that I have nothing but confidence in you."

"Then why are you insisting on coming along?"

He released her, backed away, and stood silently for a moment. "We don't know what happened to Yatsuneko-san."

"And you don't think I could handle myself out there?"

"That's not — I just — " He put his hat on her desk and turned to face the window. "I want you to be safe."

She moved to stand by his side, mirroring him. "I can keep myself safe."

"I know you can." He breathed out and turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"Yamamoto Soutaicho assigned me this assignment and did so publicly. Do you know how your actions reflect on me and my capacities as a Fukutaicho when you behave like this — forbidding me from completing assignments well within reason for my rank?"

He turned to face her but remained silent.

"What happened last month was… a tragedy, and —" she cleared her throat "—and we said it wouldn't change things — but it did. Things changed."

"Nanao-chan," he breathed out.

"That doesn't mean you can stop me from doing my job." She kept her voice steady.

Sighing, he released her and ran a hand across his face. "You're right, Nanao-chan. I shouldn't have insisted. You're more than capable of doing this."

She sighed, "Thank you."

"I won't stand in the way. You have to promise me you will be careful. You'll call me if you need help."

"Taicho, I will be safe." She backed away from him and motioned to his desk. "Now, since I have you here, several forms need your attention.

"But Nanao-chan, I woke up so early. Surely, it can wait until after I have a nap."

"You're a grown man, not an infant. You are more than capable of not napping for another few hours."

"I'm still a growing boy, Nanao-chan. I need my naps." He pouted

"Taicho, I'm not going to have this argument. Again."

The man was infuriating.

To most, his Nanao-chan was hard-working, strict, and pragmatic. They knew her by her work ethic, skills as a Kido Master, and division management expertise, unparalleled in Soul Society. It was common to see other divisions knocking on their offices and asking for Nanao's help.

To him, his Nanao-chan was determined; his Nanao-chan was playful; his Nanao-chan was passionate. He knew his Nanao-chan as someone who invested her whole being into what she did, whether casting kido in battle or at him. He knew her as someone who was selfless and dedicated her entire life to their division — she was as a partner he could trust with anything. He knew her as someone who, regardless of her cold exterior, was one of the warmest and most stable pillars of support he'd come to know in his long life — one who would always receive him, regardless of his reason for knocking.

Above all, his Nanao-chan was infuriating.

The magnitude of their disagreement the day before had been an unusual occurrence. He could count on one hand how many times they'd had an argument in which they felt genuine anger towards one another.

He had been blinded by anxiety about her venturing out without him, only to return as a body under a sheet. Frustration was a very close second — why couldn't she accept his assistance? She could be so stubborn. However, when he could finally focus on her and saw her hurt expression, he was reminded of the times he'd seen that particular look shine vulnerably through her eyes. He'd done it again — it made her question her abilities. It was rare, exceedingly so, and he was often to blame for these brief flashes of doubt. He'd apologized, and she'd accepted, as she always eventually did.

Except.

Except, this time, when he apologized, she pushed past the long-standing limits of what truths could be spoken out loud for her to name that something had fundamentally changed in their dynamic openly. To lay out how their affection had bled into their professional relationship — he'd been stunned.

So, here he was, sitting on Ukitake's office porch while she was away at the Rukongai. He'd settled on tracking her reiatsu and was relying on Ukitake to keep him from chasing after her should something change in her reiatsu.

"Kyouraku, she'll be fine. We've been sitting on the porch for an hour, and nothing has changed, right?" Ukitake spoke from his desk.

He paused to check on her before answering, "Nothing's changed." He then paused, reassessed, and sat up straighter. "She's nearly there."

He could distantly hear Ukitake shuffling papers. "Ise-san is very capable. She'll have no problem figuring out what's happening and reporting back."

"Yes, she is."

His focus was solely on her reiatsu. At this distance, it was harder to get a good sense of her feelings unless he purposefully reached for her.

Usually, he would instinctively tune in to her mood. At first, he used the information as a tactic to avoid paperwork. However, as time progressed, he found himself seeking out her reiatsu to check in on her. He rarely acted on what he found. He would show up only when she felt the most intense emotional upheaval, hellbent on providing comfort. Those times almost always correlated with late-night nightmares. On those nights, he would lay in her bed, murmuring words of comfort and holding her shaking form against his chest until she fell asleep.

He knew she kept tabs on him as well. There would be nights when his thoughts would wander in dark territories, and she would, without fail, appear at his front door. They would spend those nights drinking tea and talking until the early morning. She would make sure he was tucked in bed before leaving for work.

To be unable to sense how she was feeling was unsettling.

After nearly an hour of only being able to feel her vaguely at his periphery, he gave up on keeping his distance and scanned the 37th district. He felt her startle and bristle at the sudden contact. He poked at her and breathed a sigh of relief when she shoved back at him.

"Leave her alone," came a stern voice behind him.

"How did you even know?"

"You're making faces."

"Faces?"

Ukitake looked up from his papers and grinned smugly, "You're making faces — faces you only make when something has to do with Ise-san."

"I don't make special faces for Nanao-chan." He thought about it. "If I were to make faces about my Nanao-chan, it would be perfectly normal because she is, after all, my Nanao-chan. It's only right."

His friend laughed and turned pensive. "Does she know this?"

"What?"

"Does Ise-san know you make faces for her and only her?"

"Of course." Of course, Nanao-chan knew. He nodded vigorously, "Of course, she does."

"Does she know there's a part of you that is just hers?"

"Of course, she knows —" He paused, shocked at his honesty, but recovered quickly.

Of course, she knew that was a part — and he didn't know how big it was — of him that was just hers, that they were intrinsically tied, that she had bled into every part of his life, and that she touched every aspect of who he was.

Of course, she knew.

Ukitake stood and walked over to him, sitting down by his side. "How do you know?"

"What?"

"How do you know she knows this?"

"She has to know." There was no doubt in his mind that she knew.

"Has to?"

"Well, I've made it plainly clear. I profess my love for my Nanao-chan often."

"Does she believe you?"

"What? Why wouldn't she?"

"It's true; you profess your love often and loudly. Everyone in Seireitei has seen at least one of your great love confessions. But, and I'm sorry to say this, but the consensus is that it's all a joke."

"What?"

Ukitake's eyes held sharp inquisition. "Oh, come on, surely you know very few people take your confessions seriously? In fact, there may only be a handful of people who know the truth behind your confessions — and, unfortunately, those people do not include Ise-san." His eyes never once let up. "I'm not even sure you know."

"Of course, I know — it's not a joke." Right? "She knows it's not a joke." There was no way Nanao-chan thought he was playing a joke on her every time he confessed his love.

"You haven't told her, though — seriously, that is. You haven't told her seriously and plainly, though. Have you?" A statement.

"I — " Kyouraku struggled to answer. There was an unspoken understanding of the true nature of their tumultuous feelings the night of their truce. However, they had avoided saying anything that would irrevocably change their relationship. It had been the unspoken limit. Still, she had to know after that night. Right?

"You've told her?" Ukitake broke through his musings and silence. His friend suddenly looked exceedingly cautious. "Kyouraku, have you told her?"

He sighed. "No." He'd never really told her. Not with the seriousness that she deserved. "I guess not."

"Don't you think it's time?" He didn't like how Ukitake's voice got quiet and soft, "Kyouraku, what happened last month with your Fifth Seat? That could have been it. If you are serious, you need to be clearer with your actions and words."

His whole body tensed at the mention of that day. The memory of the terror and grief stirred up the undercurrent of anxiety coursing throughout him. "Ukitake, It's fine."

"But is it? She thinks it's all a joke."

"No, she doesn't. She can't."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"But you didn't tell her, right? So how would she know? For certain?"

"I've never — we've never — " Never. Never, what? That they had never had an honest conversation about the nature of their relationship? That he had never told her seriously? That she would have never known the true depths of his feelings? What if she didn't know? What if she thought he was joking at her expense? "She can't possibly think it's all a joke." Right? Maybe once, yes. But after That Night, there was no way she doubted him. Right?

"There's only one way to be certain."

"What's with you today?" His friend was rarely this incessant. "You're like a dog with a bone."

"What's with me? You've just spent the morning sighing on my porch, stalking your Ise-san. Not to mention, you two had a fight that was overheard by half of the Eighth —"

"So, you've heard." Of course, their fight got out.

"I'm not sure there's a single shinigami who hasn't heard. All that fuss about her not going alone or going at all, and you can't gather the courage to tell her how you feel seriously."

"It's not that simple. I can't just say things like that."

"Why not? As you said — you do it often and loudly."

"We don't do that." He snapped. Shit.

"We? So, there is we?" Now, Ukitake had what he'd been fishing for.

"There's no 'we'." He took a steadying breath and continued, "there is no we. Can you just leave this alone and let me focus."

"There is a we, and that "we" has to talk seriously."

"Yeah, yeah. Now let me focus."

"Fine."

Finally, he could focus on finding Nanao-chan's reiatsu again. She was stopped in the north-western quadrant of District 37. He leaned back against his forearms and grew increasingly more agitated as time passed, and she didn't move from her location.

After nearly half an hour, he had enough.

"I'm going after her."

Ukitake sighed and, without looking at him, scolded. "Leave her be."

"No. But she hasn't moved in half an hour. Something could be wrong." He stood up.

"Oh." Oh? That was not the answer he wanted to hear. "I'm going."

"Wait! Try reaching out first?"

"No, but…" he broke off as he returned his focus to Nanao-chan's reiatsu. He felt his own anxiety bubble to the surface when he brushed against her and found that she still hadn't moved. "Jyuu. She still hasn't moved. I'm going."

"Kyouraku, just stay calm and give her a minute — she could be in the middle of something."

"That's what I'm afraid of —" He suddenly felt the electric zap coursing through him whenever her reiatsu would press against him. She was fine. Tired and annoyed, but all right. He breathed a sigh of relief when she also reciprocated the touch.

"Is she…?" Ukitake trailed off, looking mildly uncomfortable.

"She's fine." He sat back down and reclined to his previous lounging position. "I'm going to take a nap until she gets back." And by nap, he meant to close his eyes and follow along with her reiatsu, holding it close for as long as she let him.

He ached to touch her. She'd been away from him for nearly half the day, having just returned in the early afternoon, and he ached to be near her.

He gave her thirty minutes to settle herself before returning to their office.

"Good afternoon, Taicho," she said, looking up from the report she was no doubt writing about what she'd seen.

"Good afternoon, my lovely Nanao-chan." He approached her desk, his hands itching to touch her.

"I'm almost done with my report for the First and Second Divisions, sir. Give me a few moments, and I'll brief you." She returned to her work, and he sat on the couch.

Watching her work, he found his mind drifting toward Ukitake's words and accusations. Did she really not know what she meant to him? Did she think it was a joke — like many others apparently thought?

However complicated his feelings for Nanao were, he knew he cared deeply for her. After That Night, he knew what they had was special — something he had never felt. After That Night, he was sure she felt the same and knew the depth of what he felt for her, even if he couldn't quite name it.

However, according to Ukitake, most people thought he was joking about his affection for Nanao and, worst of all, Nanao herself might be one of those people.

"Taicho?" She spoke from her desk, "Taicho, I'm ready."

He wasn't.

"Nanao-chan?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's do this over lunch?"

"No, sir. Let's just finish this now."

"But you haven't eaten yet. You got up so early; you must be hungry."

Holding up a map, she motioned for him to come to her. "Hurry up."

"But —"

"Taicho, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can eat." She used her stern voice on him.

"We?" We

"Yes. You haven't eaten, have you? So, it's we." She looked perplexed.

"Promise we'll get food?" He pouted

Rolling her eyes, she relented, "I promise, now hurry up."

He moved to stand by her side as she gestured to the center of a map. "Initially, I thought the issue was a matter of organized crime. There seems to be an unusually high presence of high-level officials in different mafia factions."

She paused and looked up at him for his input. He rested a hand on the back of her chair and leaned forward.

"That was until I reached the northwestern quadrant of the district. It was mostly a wooded area, but there was a clearing that felt… off. I'm not sure what it was about it was off, but it just felt off." Her voice again sounded uncertain.

"Why did you stop there?"

"What?"

"If it felt wrong, why did you stop there so long? It was more than half an hour." He did his best to keep his voice purely inquisitive.

"You spent more than thirty minutes actively tracking me?" She said as she lifted one deadly, well-manicured eyebrow.

"Well, yes. Obviously. I was worried when you stopped moving. Did you expect me not to search for you?" Were he a more bashful man, he might have blushed.

Even she looked taken aback by his admission. "I — "

They paused, staring at one another for a breath and then two.

"I didn't stop."

Now, it was his turn to be confused. "What are you talking about? I felt your reiatsu stop moving for nearly half an hour. You just stood there. I couldn't even get you to respond."

"What? No. If I had stopped, it would have only been for a moment. I spent my time there looking for signs of hollows around the clearing."

What? "That's not what I felt. You were still, and when I tried to reach you, you didn't respond."

"Yes, I did."

"Eventually — eventually, you did. But when I first tried, it was like you weren't there."

"But I responded to you right away."

"Huh? You really… there must be something else going on in that area. Did you sense any anomalies in spiritual pressure in the clearing?"

"There was a strong trace of hollows in the clearing, but there weren't any hollows in the area —not that I could see, but they couldn't have been gone for long."

"I don't like this." This was more complicated than he had assumed.

She nodded. "The mafia element made sense. I've heard the family that operates in the 33rd and 34th districts have been expanding. But this… disturbance… can't be related to that. I think it's more likely to be related to the hollows. Looking back the hollow spiritual pressure was extraordinarily high because there were no hollows in the area. I'll notify the Twelfth Division and see if they can send someone to take readings. I'll also check in with the Second."

"Nanao-chan, next time we'll go together." This was non-negotiable. He held his breath, waiting for her reply.

She paused and nodded, "I want to gather information from the Twelfth and Second first. I don't want this to be done sloppily and run blindly into danger."

"Good. I trust my lovely Nanao-chan, but all of that can wait — lunch first." He motioned towards the door.

"It is important." She pulled a piece of paper from her stack, stared at him, and relented, "Let me jot this down."

He pushed away from her desk and waited for her to move. "Let's get ramen today," he said, smiling.

She stood up from her desk and walked toward him, saying, "That sounds delicious, Taicho." She smiled as she passed him, and he couldn't help but grin back.

She knew. Of course, she knew.