Shadows Gone

by Slippers_of_the_Overlord

Summary:

Nanao lives in the world where appearances lie and smiles cut deep. But after becoming a Vice Captain of the Eight Division, she begins to doubt the rules she lives by. In the games of shadows and light, even one word may carry the weight of betrayal — or salvation.

Ise Nanao as Aizen’s spy in Gotei 13. AU

To whom it may concern ) Due to health issues, the next chapter is delayed for a week or two.

Chapter 1: The shadows that hide behind a smile

The sake was good, if one paid attention. It was smooth, aged well, with a hint of plum at the end. But Shunsui wasn’t paying attention.

 

He took another sip anyway.

 

The night was warm even for this time of year, stars shimmering above the Eighth Division barracks. Kyōraku stared up at them, holding a sake dish in one hand, pink haori draped loosely over his shoulders, its weight pressing down on him. The sky wasn’t exactly like that night — clouds were thinner, the air less stifling — but since that day the view of crescent moon reminded him of her. 

 

No matter how much he drank, the heavy burden of guilt refused to leave him, pressing down on him much more than a haori on his shoulders. And why should it leave him? He was supposed to feel guilty — it was only fair.

 

Behind the barracks, someone was laughing. 

 

"Captain Kyōraku. Good evening."

 

Shunsui blinked and turned his head toward the voice. Standing respectfully at the edge of the engawa was a man in a white haori, his dark brown hair falling neatly around his boyish face, the moonlight reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. 

 

"I hope I’m not intruding," his visitor’s tone was apologetic. 

 

"Ah, Sousuke-kun. What a surprise." What a surprise indeed, Shunsui mused. Still, he gestured to the fat sake jar nearby. "Care for a drink, my friend?"

 

Aizen inclined his head politely, his expression almost sheepish. "I’m not much of a drinker, I’m afraid. Still I appreciate the offer."

 

"Pity. It’s rather good." Kyōraku lifted a dish in a loose toast. "A fine night for a good sake."

 

Aizen offered him a small smile and stepped closer, footsteps soft. He didn’t speak again, just stood there quietly, taking in the night sky. Shunsui let him be, watching how the gentlest breeze swayed the sparse grass near the engawa.

 

"You seem melancholic tonight," the younger man observed gently after a few moments.

 

Shunsui didn’t reply immediately. He sipped from his dish again, gaze still on the landscape around them.

 

"Perhaps I am," he agreed lightly.

 

"I find myself in that mood sometimes too," Aizen nodded, voice softening even further. "When I think of Captain Hirako."

 

Shunsui’s hand stilled briefly. He finally glanced at him again, eyes unreadable in the dim light of the crescent moon, but said nothing.

 

"He taught me more than I realized at the time."

 

"Shinji-kun was a good one," Kyōraku said at last. The laughter behind the barracks grew louder.

 

"Yes and that’s why it was so hard for the Fifth Division without him these two years," Aizen said after a moment, "It’s still hard. I imagine it’s been difficult for you too, managing everything without a Vice Captain. And Lisa-san left behind big shoes to fill."

 

"She had small feet," Shunsui said dryly. "But yes, she was exceptionally good at her job. Too skilled for her own good, maybe," he added, tone growing slightly bitter at the end.

 

"She was a good soldier, one of the best." Sousuke’s voice was sympathetic. "And now I know from personal experience how valuable a reliable officer can be. Without someone to carry part of the weight, it falls on the captain entirely."

 

Shunsui gave a noncommittal hum. "I get by, don’t worry. Work still gets done. Eventually."

 

"Of course," Aizen said, lightly. "Still, I’ve always believed some burdens are meant to be shared. There’s an officer in my Division, Fourth Seat Ise Nanao. Bright. Disciplined. And she handles administrative tasks with remarkable efficiency. You may have seen her name in the reports."

 

"Fourth Seat, hm?"

 

"She’s an excellent officer, but as all good soldiers she needs challenges to grow. Of course, I wouldn’t presume to make any decisions for you," the other man said, his voice holding just the right amount of respect.  

 

Shunsui’s gaze turned thoughtful. "Hm. And you won’t miss her at the Fifth?"

 

"Oh, I will. Nanao is one of the most hardworking and responsible officers I have known. But I believe she’s ready for more responsibility and a Vice Captain post could give her that," Aizen replied with a smile. "She can be of great help to you too," he added softly.

 

"You’ve always been an interesting one, Sousuke-kun," Shunsui mused. "Polite, modest, always looking out for everyone," he looked at the man intently.

 

"I do what I can," Aizen said with a smile, his eyes soft.

 

Shunsui’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. But whatever passed through his mind, he tucked it away beneath an easy grin.

 

"Well, if she’s half as good as you say," he replied, stretching out his legs a bit. "Maybe she’s just what the Eighth needs."

 

Aizen inclined his head, nothing but polite concern in his expression. He stood there a little more, glancing at the night sky again.

 

"I suppose I will take my leave," he said after the moment. "Thank you for your time tonight, Captain Kyōraku."

"You sure you won’t join me for one drink?" Shunsui’s voice was light, almost playful.

 

"Another time, perhaps. There are still a few reports waiting for me," Aizen answered graciously, shaking his head lightly.

 

"Ah, duty calls." Kyōraku smiled, but his tone was unreadable. 

 

Aizen offered a final polite bow. "Indeed. Good night, Captain Kyōraku."

 

"Good night, Sousuke-kun."

 

Aizen’s departure was as quiet as his arrival. Shunsui didn’t watch him go. He leaned back, letting his gaze drift once more to the stars above. Fourth Seat Ise Nanao, hm. The breeze had stilled. Even the laughter behind the barracks had faded. He poured himself one last drink. Two years. And the night still felt too quiet without her.

He drank again but the taste was still off.

 

 

 

 

 

The sunlight filtered through the gaps in high silver-edged clouds. It brought no warmth, but it was bright — unreasonably so. The sun turned the clean white streets into mirrors, bouncing light off polished stone and windows. The Seireitei basked in the light like a great shrine, gleaming around her, a city built on order and tradition. Shinigami passed her in small groups, voices low and steps relaxed. The atmosphere was at ease, peaceful even. Everything in the city was unblemished and clean and good. It made her skin itch.

 

Still, Nanao moved briskly and sure as if she belonged here, her sandals whispering against the path confidently, her posture flawless. There was no reason for anyone to look twice at her — just another officer heading to her division.

 

But she didn’t belong.

 

She didn’t belong in this white city where order was just an illusion that barely concealed the chaos beneath. She wasn't real here. She wasn't even a shinigami. Not like the ones who bled for honor and duty and thought it meant something. Not even like the ones who just wanted to escape the filth of Rukongai. She was only here because of Aizen’s orders.

 

Why the Eighth?

 

She hadn’t asked and it didn’t matter. Aizen didn’t explain unless he wanted to. But of course her assignment will serve him somehow. She was to observe. To listen. That much she knew. Comply. Do what you’re told. Don’t question anything. Whatever it was, it was temporary. One more assignment.

 

And yet, as she approached the entrance to the Eighth Division barracks, the doubt settled heavily in her stomach. What he was planning, exactly? With Aizen you never know.

 

Nanao's grip on her folder tightened just slightly as she turned the corner and caught a glimpse of her new division. The buildings looked pleasant, white and sunlit, dazzlingly bright like almost everything it this city. The path was clean, well swept, the grass around juicy green despite the start of the autumn. A few officers lounged in the courtyard, chatting loudly. The ones that passed her looked at her curiously but bowed respectfully. Friendly. The atmosphere around reminded her, uncomfortably, of the Fifth. The amiable hum of a division that trusted its own structure, trusted its captain. And that, more than anything, made her wary.

 

The Eighth Division... Some officers called the division easygoing; others called it undisciplined. She had heard the rumors, of course. It was told that once a week soldiers used to have a drinking party. Their paperwork was late more often than not. Their missions were unpredictable. It wasn’t a division, it was a traveling circus. Their Captain? Kyōraku Shunsui. She didn’t know him, not really, but she had read his file. For all she knew, it would be a bad fit for her. She also heard he was a hedonist, a womanizer and a slacker. Nanao had no interest in learning whether any of this things was true or not. She had no desire to be Vice-Captain to a man like Kyōraku Shunsui. And yet, here she was.

 

Comply. Do what you’re told. Don’t question anything.

 

She slowed as she neared the gates, the courtyard opening before her like a stage. A few shinigami near the fence turned to look at her. Nanao ignored them but pursed her lips slightly. Fortunately, slightly enough that it will go unnoticed. She need to focus. She should keep her distance and hold her composure. There was no room for error, not in this place where everything glittered a little too brightly in the sun.

 

Nothing in this city was what it seemed.

 

The Gotei 13 prided itself on order, but there was no real unity. The divisions functioned like small kingdoms. Their captains — some brilliant, some mad — were left to govern as they pleased. The Twelfth was run by a madman with a scalpel. The Eleventh had no rules at all. The Fifth… If only they know. The thought almost made her want to smile. She adjusted her glasses and kept walking.

 

Kami, she desperately wanted to be somewhere else. It would be fine, she reasoned. Just another mission. As long as she kept her distance and act confidently, it would all be fine. It will all end one day. Better sooner than later though.

 

The words were a quiet mantra, a prayer to a nonexistent God. How many times did Nanao repeat these words to herself? How many more would she repeat them?

 

She took a breath and straighten her shoulders. Doesn't matter. It has to be done. Without waiting for anyone to approach her, Ise Nanao swiftly walked into a new scene, playing a new part.

 

 

 

 

 

She didn’t even have to step fully into the building to find her new Captain.

 

The sliding door to the Eighth Division’s office was open, and the warm morning light of early autumn spilled across the engawa like gold paint. The shade of nearby trees muted an unforgivable sunlight a little. The wind moved gently, carrying off the dry rustle of maple leaves and the distant chatter of officers. Captain Kyōraku was sprawled across the wooden boards of the engawa like a cat, one arm draped lazily around a sake bottle. His wide straw hat obscured his face, his pink haori – a woman’s kimono – looked absurd in the golden light. A tray beside him held two untouched steamed buns.

 

He looked exactly as she expected. Ridiculous. But there was unmistakable hum of reiatsu in the air around him too. No, she decided, she would not underestimate this man just because he played the fool. Appearances lied. She was a living proof.

 

Nanao approached him with the calm precision of someone trained to maintain composure, posture straight, and eyes steady. She spoke softly; though her tone made it clear she was unimpressed.

 

"Captain Kyōraku, sir."

 

"Mm?" Kyōraku peeked out from beneath his hat, blinking against the morning light as if perplexed. Was he really asleep?

 

"You must be the lovely Nanao-chan I’ve heard so much about! I’ve been waiting for you," he said, grinning like they'd been friends for years.

 

Nanao bowed slightly, clenching her jaw at the pet name. He definitely looked the part of a fool. "Please desist from calling me that, sir."

 

"It’s awfully early for formalities, don’t you think?" Shunsui sat up with a stretch and an exaggerated groan, pushing the hat back to get a better look at her. Steel-spined posture. Elegant updo. Pristine and impeccably ironed shihakusho as if she was posing for the uniforms manual. Glasses framed a face far too lovely to be this severe. Oh, he was in trouble already.

 

"Yare, yare," he murmured. "I was told you were brilliant, but no one mentioned that you were also beautiful. How scandalously inefficient of them."

 

His eyes lingered on her a little too long. She didn’t react. Not even a twitch to her mouth. Kyōraku’s smile deepened.

 

"I think we should start with a discussion of the division’s status reports, sir."

 

He pushed himself up, dusted his haori with little care, and stood. He was tall, with broad shoulders, but his entire presence was soft around the edges, charmingly lazy. He smiled at her almost inocently. And yet Nanao’s mind flashed – brief and unbidden – to another man, another harmlessly looking man, who smiled just like Kyōraku Shunsui.

 

He chuckled. "So soon? Would you like some tea first?" he asked, stepping back toward the office. "Maybe something stronger? Or if you're not one for office drinking there’s a quiet place in the First District of West Rukongai. Lovely view. And they serve quite the mochi."

 

"I’m here to work, sir."

 

"A model officer," he said, not unkindly. "You’ll ruin my reputation."

 

"Sir," her tone was smooth as silk and just as cool. It was such a good word. Sir. Professional. And one could say so much using just this word alone.

 

He grinned wider, eyes dancing. "Mm. I like the way you say it."

 

Nanao gave no reply. She didn’t like the way his voice dipped on that last phrase. Low, suggestive. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good word after all.

 

"I’m just teasing," his grin subsided when he noticed her wary glance. 

 

Is that so? Nanao mused. She didn’t want for her work to become even more complicated that it already was. "I’d like to review division’s current standing reports," she said aloud. "And if there are any outstanding issues requiring immediate – "

 

"That’s such a boring conversation, Nanao-chan. Surely we can talk about something more pleasant. For example, what's your favorite flower?" his voice become playful again. 

 

Nanao felt her right eye twitching. This man was every bit the infuriating caricature she'd been warned about. Maybe even worse, now that she have to bear with full force of his idiocy. But dangerous, she reminded herself. He was one of the oldest captains. Powerful, too. Aizen didn't send her to the Eight Division without a reason. And that meant Kyōraku requires careful handling.

 

He sighed, grinning a little sheepishly now and motioned toward the open door. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, he mused. "Come, Nanao-chan. Let’s not start things off on such a stiff note. The division may not be the most... conventional, but we’re friendly. You'll see."

 

She followed him inside the office, half-dreading what she’d find.

 

And then she saw it. Towers of paperwork. No, that's wasn't it. Mountains of paperwork. Scrolls balanced in precarious towers. A small pile of unopened correspondence laid near the door, forgotten. At the table a single brush sat abandoned in an inkwell that had long since dried out. The office was worse than she feared.

 

Nanao pressed her lips into a flat, unimpressed line. She didn’t sigh, she didn’t speak, but inwardly she cursed Aizen with a cold passion.

 

"You’re not running away," her new Captain noted cheerfully.

 

Nanao finally exhaled quietly. "I think I should begin cataloguing the backlog immediately."

 

Kyōraku watched her without speaking for a moment, his posture not quite as lazy as before. There was something about her. She looked... not sad, no, but rather unhappy. Detached. Aizen recommend her for the position, hm. Maybe he read too much into it. He was acting towards her rather troublesome. Still he asked, more to himself than to her, "Nanao-chan doesn’t smile much, does she?"

 

She stepped forward without responding, eyeing a teetering stack of scrolls on the nearest table with suspicion.

 

“Well,” he sighed, “I'll leave you to it, then.” He promised Ukitake he will visit him today after all and his friend was rather ill this week. Kyōraku was only at the office this early because he didn’t want to leave his new Vice-Captain without welcoming her in the Division. And it’s for the better for sure to leave now, he thought, looking at her stiff back. You never know what a furious woman is capable of.

 

Nanao didn’t turn around. "Captain."

 

"Hm?"

 

She finally glanced at him over her shoulder. "The paperwork."

 

"Oh, paperwork." He waved a hand like he was shooing off a bug. "All yours now, I’m afraid. I’m sure you’ll sort it out in no time."

 

Nanao bristled just slightly. "May I ask what time you plan to begin reviewing division reports?"

 

"I’ll be in the office around noon," he said easily, already turning back toward the engawa, "unless the mood takes me somewhere else."

 

Of course he would leave her to deal with the mess alone. She felt her temper rise.

 

"Captain Kyōraku — "

 

He looked over his shoulder, smiling.

 

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, "The division is in serious disarray, sir."

 

"I know. Isn’t it awful?" His tone was light. "That’s why they sent me someone cute and competent. Try not to work yourself too hard on your first day, lovely Nanao-chan. The paperwork can wait for a little while, believe me."

 

Kyōraku paused at the threshold, looking at her one last time, his expression contemplative and then vanished, leaving golden light and dust and silence pooling around her.

 

When she heard the soft shhh of the door sliding closed behind him, she allowed herself the smallest exhale. Damn you, Aizen. Of all officers she could’ve been sent to spy on, why did it have to be this sake-sipping, flirtatious menace in pink?

 

Nanao stood in the center of the chaos, surrounded by what might have been a year’s worth of paperwork, and reminded herself that it was only temporary. She would do her job. She would endure this. And eventually, she would leave.

 

 

 

 

 

It was late. Nanao was finally slowly walking to her quarters, the buzz of the Eighth Division fading behind her. The moonlight painted the Seireitei silver, shadows drawn long across the pale empty streets. It was a pleasant change after the dazzling light of the day.

 

Nanao sighed, her limbs ached from the hours spent sorting, cataloguing and deciphering the backlog. The paperwork had been a small war. And it was only the beginning. She still had to meet with the seated officers. Review the budget. Check the training rotations. And Captain Kyōraku, it seemed, found none of this particularly urgent. Of course not. He floated above the chaos with a sake cup in hand, unbothered.

 

The halfwit.

 

He pestered her all afternoon, trying to learn more about her, and even if his questions were just friendly and lighthearted like what is her favorite weather, she become apprehensive. There will be definitely more personal questions in the future judging by his scrutiny towards her.

 

Was he already suspecting something? Or was it just his womanizer’s persona? Either way it can make her job complicated. As if it wasn’t hard enough. Was this idiot going to do any work? If not, she definitely needed to involve some of the more capable officers, or she will be buried alive under the towers of papers.

 

Actually, Nanao couldn’t care less about the state of business in the Eight Division, but it was imperative to her to do her job perfectly. To be the model soldier. She was in the Eight for a reason, she reminded herself. Everything should be impeccable, even if she died from exhaustion at her desk, which would be the most bureaucratic death in Soul Society history.

 

She allowed herself the smallest of smiles at the thought. Then it vanished.

 

Aizen’s presence should have sent a chill down her spine, a ripple of pressure across the senses. But she didn’t sense him at all. He easily stepped from the shadows with a gentle smile, as if the night had parted to let him through.

 

"Vice-Captain Ise," he said warmly, like a mentor greeting a favorite pupil. "Congratulations."

 

Nanao bowed, spine straight. Her expression was calm and showed respect. "Captain Aizen."

 

He moved closer. "Out so late. Working hard, hmm? You've always been so diligent. I like it about you." His hand settled lightly on her shoulder. Warm. Heavy. Familiar. Her instinct was to flinch, to shudder. She didn’t. Nanao knew better than to show emotion to this man.

 

"I hear you’ve had quite the first day," Aizen’s tone was mild. Nanao was quiet. "It’s a prestigious post," her previous Captain continued as if he didn’t expect her to reply, his tone low and soothing. "And you will do wonderfully. Everything is going according to plan."

 

"Yes, sir," she said. Her voice was flat, emotionless.

 

"You know what’s at stake, Nanao."

 

Yes, she did. She knew what he held over her head. She knew the leash wrapped around her neck. Aizen’s schemes were rooted in power. But hers, hers were rooted in something far more mundane. Comply. Do what you’re told. Get out alive.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Good," Aizen smiled, squeezing her shoulder in what could almost pass for affection. "I’ll be in touch. Good night."

 

He took his hand away and she resisted the urge to rub his touch out of her body.

 

"Good night, Captain Aizen." She bowed, walking away, her hands perfectly still at her sides. Nanao felt his gaze at her back. She didn't look back, didn't quicken her pace, but her thoughts were buzzing like bees. How long it will continue? When Aizen's plan will be finally in motion? What was her job at the Eight exactly? She didn’t know. Nanao ground her teeth. No matter.

 

Get through this. Keep your head down. Do the work, buy your freedom.

 

And when all this was over, she would be free. She will be her own person. And maybe, just maybe, she finally would be happy. 

Notes:

So, I read a fanfic many years ago with Nanao as Aizen spy. It was unfinished but the idea live rent free in my head. I need to get rid of it. Honestly, I think about it day and night. So cue this fic.

Brief disclaimer. Nanao and Shunsui are not related. Or they’re related but they don’t care. Kubo definitely doesn’t care. So why should I? Also I tired of people brushing off every interaction between them (no matter how questionable) as, “Ahh, Kyōraku taking care of his niece,” or, “That sounded a little weird in context, but it’s just Uncle Shunsui.” They are not wholesome uncle and niece even if they won’t end up together or if their feelings are never fulfilled. And it’s not even confirmed they’re actually related. Also there is no grooming, they didn’t live as a family and they freaking old souls, so that’s not that horrible.

Anyway, this fic is AU so you don’t have to worry about any of this if you so against it. For the purpose of this fic Shunsui and Nanao are totally not related. 100% blood relation free.

Any feedback is welcome, leave kudos if you like or smth :) It may inspire me to write more (even if I’m already determined to finish it).

Also, maybe you already noticed, but English is not my first language (not even a second one) so even if I review with a dictionary and The Power of the Internet, some things might end up sounding wierd. Please bear with me. Also maybe leave some advice?

Anyway, thanks for reading so far!

Chapter 2: Faking tame, pressure game

Summary:

Kyōraku and Ukitake have rather enlightening conversation regarding Aizen. In turn Nanao learns more than one worrisome thing about her Captain.

"Nee, Nanao-chan, don't you think chrysanthemums smell stronger after the cold?"

 

She didn’t even look up. The scratching of her brush continued, sharp and steady, one kanji after the next — names, figures, notations. Monthly reports for the First Division, budget reconciliation, an amended patrol schedule. She was already behind, of course. There were only so many hours in the day, and more of them than necessary were spent managing her captain.

 

The said Captain was lounging on the office sofa like a well-fed cat, bare feet poking out from under his dark hakama. A thin bracelet glinted faintly against one ankle — silver beads on a fraying cord. Nanao wondered, not for the first time, how he managed to go without tabi in this weather, it had dropped below freezing the night before. The straw hat spun in his hands in slow, hypnotic turns. It dipped, rose, dipped again, his version of work, no doubt. Her Captain was humming a tune she didn’t recognize, off-key and persistent, and it had been grating on her nerves for the last ten minutes.

 

He’d taken to calling her Nanao-chan from the first day though she’d corrected him. Firmly, many times. The more she protested, the more creative he became. He called her Nanao-chan, my clever Nanao-chan, my beautiful sweet sharp-as-a-whip, cold-as-an-autumn-wind Nanao-chan. If she were more naive, maybe she’d be flattered. If she were at least a little interested in romantic nonsense, maybe she’d even be charmed. Given she was who she was, Nanao was annoyed. 

 

Still, it wasn't a problem. Captain Kyōraku flirted with everything that moved and happened to be female. But he watched her closely. This was the problem. No real work, no orders, no urgency — just slow, meandering days as he watched her from behind that easy, lopsided smile; behind that wide-brimmed hat. He had a habit of drifting through her space, offering help he never followed through on, interrupting perfectly efficient work with inane questions about the weather or the placement of their tea set. Sometimes he sat and watched her write for hours, like the act of her being diligent was a form of entertainment.

 

It irritated her to no end. 

 

She pushed her glasses up her nose and dipped her brush into ink again. At least her Captain wasn't trying to sexually harass her. Yet. She noticed how he looked at her sometimes, after all.

 

He still brought her flowers.

 

Chrysanthemums, this week. White and pale gold, huddled together in a blue glazed vase beside the in-tray. They filled the room with their sweet, frost-bitten scent, the kind that lingered in fabric and made the air feel heavier than it was. He’d brought them yesterday, humming, claiming they matched her spirit: "Quiet and stubborn, but underneath a lovely perfume." She hadn’t dignified it with a reply.

 

Well, he wasn't wrong about the smell. The chrysanthemums’ scent was indeed stronger, saturated by the warmth of the office.

 

Outside it was cold, the skies slate-gray for days now, the wind dry and cutting. Autumn had run to its final stretch, and Seireitei was steeped in rust and ash — burnt umber leaves skipping along white stone paths.

 

This was her favorite time of the year.

 

Nanao never said so out loud, and she always ignored Captain’s pointed questions about her preferred season, but she liked the crispness of the world now. Liked the way everything burned bright, red and gold, before it faded. The coldness felt honest. The sharp air, the stark shadows, the quiet — like a slap to the senses that left you more awake.

 

She liked the safety of the warm indoors, too. She hadn’t always had that.

 

Nanao pressed the brush a little harder and dipped it into the inkstone, continuing her work.

 

Three months had passed since her transfer to the Eighth Division. Still, no message had come. And now the silence stung her skin like frostbite.

 

She had made herself useful. Efficient. Predictable. The division had taken to her quickly. She kept things running, after all. The archives were now up to date, reports no longer disappeared mysteriously or arrived three weeks late. Things ran smoother now, more precise. The seated officers had grown used to Kyōraku’s easygoing personality, but they weren’t incompetent. They just needed structure. The division, for the most part, responded to her with a mix of mild respect and distant curiosity. She preferred it that way.

 

"You seem so cold, Nanao-chan," the cat in pink murmured lazily from the sofa. "Should I compose a haiku to warm your heart?"

 

The Captain, however, was another matter entirely. She probably should compare him to a dog with the bone. 

 

Nanao reached to the side, grabbed a folder, and dropped it silently on the edge of his sofa. Without looking at him, she said: "If you must compose something, Captain, make it a properly filled report. The First Division doesn’t recognize poetry."

 

He sighed mournfully, "you wound me." The hat was still now, resting against his chest. After the moment he recited, half-humming as he shaped the words aloud, "Something like… Winter in her eyes / Sharp frost on her glasses — / My Nanao-chan."

 

Nanao exhaled. "It’s not a haiku, sir."

 

"It is. Did you like the part about your glasses?"

 

She gave him a deadpan glance. 

 

He tilted his head at her. "Too dramatic?"

 

"I think it needs editing," she said flatly, gaze returning to the papers.

 

The man chuckled, low and easy, like she’d just complimented him. Nanao wasn’t even sure that he heard half of her replies. 

 

It had been like this for three months. Captain Kyōraku didn’t act like he was in charge of anything. He drifted in and out of the office like a breeze, sometimes leaving behind poetry drafts, or sake bottles, or golden leaves. He rarely gave direct orders. Mostly, he watched. At first, Nanao thought he was suspicious. Then she thought he was testing her. Now she wasn’t sure what he was doing.

 

It was unsettling.

 

There had been no message from Aizen since that night. Weeks ago now. And yet, he still hadn’t contacted her. Every day of silence weighed on her, a reminder that she was still waiting, still bound.

 

"Chrysanthemums bloom / Behind glasses made of frost / Eyes sharper than swords."

 

Nanao blinked, tearing herself away from her gloomy thoughts. "Still not a haiku," she said flatly. "And my eyes are perfectly normal."

 

Her Captain chuckled. "Now that’s just a lie."

 

She looked up for one long, tired moment, just long enough for him to grin at her. Then she returned to her papers without a word.

 

Kyōraku sighed again, this time louder. The hat-twirling resumed.

 

Nanao pressed her lips together and wrote another neat line across the page. He didn’t act like a man who wanted to catch her in anything, he barely acted at all. But he spent more time in the office than necessary, offered no clear reasons, and gave very few orders. Not that she should be complaining. It just would be preferable if he annoyed her less and did actual work more. 

 

It wasn’t that he suspected her, no. She didn't do anything suspicious. But he noticed things.

 

And Aizen still hadn’t contacted her.

 

 

 

 

She always watched him.

 

It wasn’t obvious, but he did notice. Subtle glances over the rim of her glasses, a stillness in her posture whenever he moved. At first, Shunsui had chalked it up to diligence. Maybe she was just trying to anticipate whatever new stunt he’d pull before it messed up her schedule. But that didn’t explain the constancy of it. Or the intensity.

 

Some days, he caught her gaze lingering on him. Thoughtful, almost interested. And Shunsui nearly let himself believe that she found him attractive, just a little. But that never added up either. She never flirted back, never laughed at his jokes. And if he smiled too kindly, or stepped a little close, her expression tightened rather than eased.

 

Two weeks ago, Nanao passed him the reports and her hand brushed the edge of his sleeve. And he caught it, a twitch. She looked like she’s braced for something. Maybe it wasn't something he should fixate so much. He was an old man flirting with his new subordinate, after all. But it wasn’t that he had touched her. He hadn’t, he never had. And he had never given her a reason to fear him. So why did she react like that? Was she really afraid of him? He was a man enough to admit it hurted his feelings quite a bit.

 

He could read her reiatsu from here if he wanted to. He did, sometimes. Today, it was controlled as always. No slips. No ripples. And yet there was something about how she observed everything, even him, as if from behind a wall. 

 

Shunsui let out a quiet sigh and turned back toward the window, watching the last yellowing leaves clinging to the trees outside. Autumn was giving way to winter in Seireitei, the cold dry kind that settled deep in the bones. Three months. That was how long Nanao had served under him. In that time, she had reshaped the division’s paperwork flow, rewritten the patrol schedules, overhauled the mess hall’s supplier contracts, and vetoed two of his haiku drafts.

 

Shunsui sighed again. He liked her. More than he should. And he wanted her, badly. There was no point pretending otherwise, at least to himself. It wasn’t just her face, though she was beautiful. It was the way she carried herself, with quiet grace and precision. She looked like a candle covered with a glass. And he wanted to touch what was underneath, see her smile at him, make her blush. 

 

But wanting her wasn't the same as acting on it. Not when she looked at him like that — guarded, carefull, as if ready to bolt. It wasn't healthy for his old heart. 

 

There were faint echoes of Lisa in her: quiet competence, the refusal to flatter or fuss. Not to mention more obvious likeness between them in looks. It scraped a bit. He missed Lisa in ways he still couldn’t talk about. But Nanao was quieter, more precise. She felt like a distant echo of something unfinished. What troubled him more, she didn’t trust him. 

 

Shunsui wanted her to be more relaxed around him. He was used to being liked or at least he was used to being disarming. His whole personality was meant to put people at ease — gentle, lazy, kind. It worked on captains, on his troops, on terrified new recruits.

 

The more kindness he showed Nanao, the more guarded she became. And that puzzled him most of all.

 

His eyes lingered on her a little longer as she sat at her desk, her glasses polished, without any specks on them. Kyōraku noticed that they weren’t just for reading. He’d saw once, how different her presence felt when they slipped a little down her nose. Not suppressors in the traditional sense, but something close. 

 

Another layer.

 

Shunsui frowned, just a little. There were things he didn’t know about her. That was fair enough. But even after three months in his Division, she still kept a whole ocean’s worth of distance from everyone, including him.

 

"My Nanao-chan is hard to please," he murmured aloud, mostly to himself.

 

She didn’t even look up. Well. Ukitake was expecting him anyway.

 

"Mm… Think I will take a walk." Kyōraku rose from the sofa with a theatrical sigh, his pink haori fluttering around him as he stretched. "Try not to miss me too much, Nanao-chan."

 

"I will try, sir," she said dryly, eyes still on the stack of transfer forms she was reviewing.

 

He chuckled as he crossed the room, tipping his hat. "Cold winds, cold words. You’re a seasonal woman through and through."

 

Outside, the chill of early winter had not yet softened into snow. The air had a bite to it that made shinigami walk briskly, sleeves drawn up over their hands. Kyōraku strolled, of course. He had a reputation to maintain.

 

He reached Ugendo as the sun began to dip low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet lake. The reeds trembled with a cold breeze. He stepped inside without knocking.

 

"Kyōraku," Ukitake greeted him. He looked thin but bright-eyed, the color of his face healthy today. "You look better than the weather."

 

The boards creaked as Shunsui lowered himself opposite his friend, hat laid beside the teapot on the table. "That’s not saying much. This season is hell on the skin."

 

"I heard sake helps," Ukitake offered, lips twitching.

 

"Only the good stuff and only when shared."

 

Ukitake’s smile grew. "You didn’t bring any."

 

"I’m rationing," Shunsui said gravely. "You wouldn’t believe how tight the new supply budget are with my new Vice-Captain watching."

 

"Ah, Ise-san. You’ve mentioned her." Ukitake waved toward the teapot, amused. "Help yourself. Not sake but still good. I think you’ll like this one, it’s from the Southern Rukongai, a little stronger than what I usually drink."

 

Kyōraku poured two cups. "You’re looking well."

 

"Better than last week," Ukitake said, smiling. "It's still snowing up near the North Patrol routes," he said after a moment, adjusting the blanket on his lap. "We’ve had to reshuffle assignments. Kiyone’s convinced the blizzard is a divine punishment for not letting her decorate the barracks for the division’s party."

 

"Knowing her, it might be." Shunsui blew on his tea. "How’s the rest of the division?"

 

"Managing everything well."

 

Kyōraku nodded quietly, gaze drifting to the frost-laced edge of the window. They sat in silence for a few moments.

 

Eventually, Ukitake asked, "And you? How’s your new Vice-Captain? Besides cutting off your sake money."

 

Shunsui gave a soft hum. "Cold as this weather. Doesn’t laugh at my jokes."

 

Ukitake laughed. "She seems wise."

 

"She’s also watching me, and not just for orders." The words came out before he meant them to but he didn’t regret them.

 

Ukitake blinked. "You think she’s spying on you?"

 

Kyōraku shook his head slowly. There was definitely more to Nanao than she let the world see, but he was certain she meant no harm. "No. I don’t get a sense of danger from her."

 

Ukitake didn’t answer right away. "Then what? You’re still thinking about Aizen, aren’t you?"

 

"Ran into him two days ago."

 

"Oh?" Ukitake’s brows lifted, but he didn’t look too anxious. 

 

"He was retrieving a kido treatise from archives. I happened to be passing." Shunsui’s tone was light, but his gaze slanted elsewhere. "I thanked him for recommending Nanao-chan for the position. Told him she’s reorganised half my division in three months. He took the credit gracefully."

 

Ukitake regarded him a beat, doubtful. "That’s what’s bothering you?"

 

Shunsui sighed. "It reminded me of that night," he said at last. "Lisa missing, Shinji gone, near a third of higher officers vanished. He looked concerned. Said all the right things."

 

Ukitake set his tea down with care. "We discussed it already, Kyōraku. You confirmed his alibi yourself."

 

"I know. He was in Seireitei. I saw him." Shunsui’s voice was quiet.

 

Silence spooled between them; the wind sifted dry leaves outside.

 

Ukitake gave him a tired look. "You think we were wrong?"

 

"No. I think we were right and Aizen counted on that. Do you remember what Urahara said at the trial? Said it all was Aizen’s doing. He may be eccentric, but the accusations…" Shunsui’s voice lowered even more. "I don’t know. Something doesn’t add up."

 

Ukitake leaned back. "You don't think Aizen can be in two places at once, do you?"

 

"I think," Shunsui said, swirling the cooling tea, "that Aizen is very good at being exactly where he wants to be seen."

 

Ukitake gave him a look. "There’s nothing to act on."

 

Shunsui scratched at his beard. "I know."

 

The breeze stirred the branches outside the window. A few leaves fluttered down.

 

"I hate this season," Ukitake said after a moment. "Everything dies, leaving only empty air and frost."

 

Shunsui exhaled slowly. "Yeah."

 

"You always get this way near winter," Ukitake said lightly.

 

"Broody and suspicious?"

 

"Reflective," Ukitake corrected with a faint smile. "Don’t chase shadows, my friend," he said after a pause. "If you start digging into everything that doesn’t feel right, you’ll end up questioning the whole Gotei."

 

Shunsui gave a soft laugh. "And if I don’t, I might miss something that matters."

 

"Just be careful," Ukitake said. "Sometimes shadows are only tricks of the light."

 

They spoke of lighter matters then: winter drills, the state of the koi pond, whether Sentaro would ever master a quiet voice. By the time Shunsui rose to leave, the unease had folded back into the corner of his mind: a small harmless shadow.

 

"I’ll bring sake next time," he promised, picking up his hat.

 

Ukitake’s laugh followed him down the corridor. "Only if your Vice‑Captain approves the expense!"

 

Shunsui waved without turning. The breeze caught the brim of his hat and for one fleeting moment, the unease returned. Then the wind shifted, and the feeling was gone.

 

 

 

 

The hell butterfly had found her near the barracks garden, its black wings a soft blur against the gray‑pink light of the evening. A time, a place, nothing more.

 

Now she waited in a narrow passage near the Fifth Division wall. The wind came off the higher roofs in hard gusts. Evening light bled across the sky, soft and red as an open wound.

 

Nanao kept her hands at her sides, spine straight, posture impeccable though no one else was there to see it. Then a second shadow lengthened beside her own.

 

"Nanao," Aizen murmured, warmth stitched into every syllable. "It’s been too long."

 

She bowed just a little. "Captain Aizen." It's always safer to say as little as possible.

 

That smile was soft, coaxing, the same he’d worn when she’d been a half‑trained student fumbling with kido diagrams. It used to comfort her. Now it chilled her heart.

 

"You’ve settled nicely in Eight Division," he went on, stepping closer. Wind stirred his sleeves; he seemed amused by it, as if the weather played along for him.

 

"It is … enlightening, to serve as Vice‑Captain," she said. Infuriating, she added inwardly — budget drafts stained with sake; two unseated idiots she’d caught drinking on duty; Captain Kyōraku humming ballads while she balanced patrol rosters; and his smile — too kind, too practiced. Almost like … Don’t finish that comparison, she told herself. Nanao mused, fleetingly, what Aizen would think if he knew she’d nearly compared him to Kyōraku in her mind. That particular expression they both wore: gentle, inviting, unreal. She was still wondering if she jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

 

Aizen’s eyes narrowed in pleasant acknowledgement, as if he had caught her last thought. "I’m glad to see you adapting."

 

Her previous Captain let the silence hang, then walked a few steps forward, gazing toward the setting sun as if admiring it. "Your real assignment begins now."

 

Nanao’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t say anything. That would be too eager.

 

"You’re to observe Captain Kyōraku more closely. Earn his trust. Report anything unusual, try to find more regarding his zanpakuto. The same for Captain Ukitake, if the opportunity arise."

 

A gust snapped through the street. "May I ask the reason for this, sir?" Maybe she would manage to walk away with more information.

 

Aizen glanced toward her, his smile unchanged. "I believe he may have noticed... something."

 

She didn’t blink, but her next breath caught a little in her chest. So that was it. The way his eyes had lingered, the lazy questions, the in‑office naps — he was watching her. Because Aizen send her. She felt absurdly relieved, then terrified by that relief. Part of her was almost eager for him to expose her, to expose Aizen and his little pathetic group. Another part of her was scared half to death.

 

"If he suspects anything, assigning me to spy on him may increase the risk," she said. Usually she wouldn't dare to question him, but stakes were high and she forgot for a second before whom she stood.

 

Aizen turned, letting the wind stir his sleeves as he looked back toward the path. "It’s a risk, yes, but far less than allowing an old, very powerful captain to probe in private. Ukitake too. Together they may cause some trouble. I can’t afford any surprises and you’re more than capable of earning his trust." The smile edged toward indulgent.

 

That last line struck through her. Her gaze flicked up before she could help it. "If he suspects anything —" Nanao protested. She's having a death wish tonight, she was certain now. Suddenly she became lightheaded. 

 

"He doesn’t know anything," Aizen said, cutting in smoothly. "Not yet. But I prefer to be certain. You understand that, don’t you? The mission will be long. Make Kyōraku see you as his own. Make him trust you, Nanao. If you can’t…" A pause. "Well, we’ll both regret it."

 

Bad, bad, this was bad. Worse than her usual dirty work for him. Nanao didn’t know Captain Kyōraku all that well, but if Aizen had concerns about him… She remembered that soft smile, the crushing weight of his spiritual pressure, and the way she sometimes felt like he was hiding something awful behind that easy charm. Something worse than her own secrets.

 

Surely there couldn’t be two deluded monsters in the Gotei 13. Then she remembered Kurotsuchi. And Ichimaru. And honestly, if she weren’t so terrified, she might’ve laughed.

 

"You think he’ll believe me?" She couldn't help but ask. There was no other option for her. He has to believe her. Aizen’s orders were perfectly clear.

 

He smiled again, that gentle, approving smile she had once clung to in a very different life. "I think," Aizen said, "that you are enough like Lisa Yadomaru to make him hesitate. And you can earn the rest. You’ve always had a gift for understanding the deeper mechanics, Nanao. That’s why I trust you to do it. Also I still rely on you to monitor the Twelfth’s data, particularly any anomalies related to older experiments."

 

Her throat felt tight. She bowed again, to keep from answering. Not that he was expecting her answer. 

 

Later, she was walking back toward her quarters as darkness soaked the sky. The wind tugged a lock of her hair loose and she pinned it behind her ear with trembling fingers. Late reaction, she noted to herself.

 

With each slow step down the street, Nanao couldn’t help but drift back to how things used to be. She had been useful before, brilliant in kido theory, hungry for any notice. She had been grateful, too. Grateful for his help, for his interest, for the illusion of purpose. That smile Aizen wore, it had once made her feel safe. Before she knew what hides behind it.

 

If I’m no longer useful, what then? Better not to find out, Nanao decided immediately. But tonight, as the light died and the sky went black, she felt it again. that quiet, nauseating certainty that she wouldn’t walk away from this unscathed.

 

A lantern glowed at the corridor corner ahead — warm and gold, bringing a deceptive feeling of security. She rounded that corner and nearly collided with Captain Kyōraku, hat in hand, returning from wherever he spent his twilight hours.

 

"Nanao‑chan? You’re out late." His voice held soft concern, real or merely polite, she couldn’t tell.

 

His silhouette was relaxed, casual. The wide-brimmed hat dangled from two fingers, and his haori looked freshly shaken of dust. The hat, the pink haori, it all made him seem harmless, until you noticed what lurks underneath.

 

"Autumn air’s turned nasty," he added, tilting his head toward the breeze. "Are you heading back to your quarters? Let me walk you the rest of the way."

 

She hesitated only a breath before nodding. Make him see you as his own. "Thank you, Captain."

 

They walked together in silence for a few steps, the only sounds are the low rasp of wind and the distant cry of some night bird. She noticed how his footsteps made no noise at all.

 

"I didn’t mention it," Kyōraku said, adjusting the hat in his hand, "but I ran into Captain Aizen the other day."

 

Nanao’s face remained blank. She didn't stiffen. She had no fear left for that man tonight, Aizen had already carved every emotion out of her, left her hollowed and raw.

 

"Told him how good you’re working," Kyōraku went on. "He also spoke very highly of you. Of course, I told him I wouldn’t give you back even if he asked."

 

That caught her attention and she glanced at him, startled. He wasn’t looking at her, just at the lanterns ahead, their bright light flickering over stone. What was it? A test? She wanted to believe it was just small talk but there was something off in his voice. 

 

Her voice felt dry in her throat. "You flatter me."

 

"No," he said. "I don’t." He smiled gently, head tilted, warmth in his voice. His eyes were half-lidded in the usual way, but watching her. Watching carefully. Was it worry in his gaze or something else?  Nanao swallowed thicky. 

 

"I’ve come to rely on you already, Nanao-chan. The office feels... better with you in it."

 

It wasn’t a line. That struck her. Aizen’s praise always came with the quiet weight of debt. But Kyōraku was just complimenting her. Earnest. Simple. Strange. Maybe it was a test. Maybe it wasn’t. But even so, he was kind. And the thought of that, the simplicity of it, hit harder than she expected. Could she even tell anymore? Did she know how to judge anyone’s character? Still she will believe from now on that he wasn’t like Aizen, she knew it. Her Captain wore masks too, yes. Layers of easy charm and soft smiles and lazy jokes. But didn’t everyone?

 

It doesn’t mean anything. Even if he was kind, even if he was genuine beneath the warmth, Kyōraku was dangerous. Her first impression of him was still true.  If he ever discovered what she was… he wouldn’t wear this strangely warm expression. Of that, she was certain.

 

Nanao looked down, letting her steps fall into rhythm beside his. Did she even deserve kindness? From the person she might someday help hurt, no less? The thought left bitter taste in her mouth. She did not.

 

They reached her door. She turned, one hand on the frame, uncertain whether she was more relieved or disappointed that the walk was over. Probably the former. Kyōraku lingered too, like he might say something else. 

 

"Care for some tea?" he asked, smiling. "Unless you think I’ll charm you into staying up past your bedtime."

 

His voice was light, teasing, not lecherous, not even particularly smooth. Warm. Nanao blinked. Something in her tensed, not in fear, exactly, but unease.

 

"No," she said, too quickly, almost harshly. Then softened it: "It’s already late, sir."

 

He gave a small, rueful smile. "Another time, perhaps."

 

She bowed slightly. "Good night, Captain."

 

As the door slid shut, she stood still in the quiet, the scent of old wood and ink settling around her. He wasn’t a friend. But… relatively safe, maybe. For now. Better keep it that way. The thoughts felt dangerous to her so she let them go. The next breath Nanao drew was steady as ever.

Notes:

I’m used to writing academic texts, court decision drafts, even poems when I was younger (please don’t hold Shunsui’s appaling haikus against me) but turns out it’s much harder to create the believable plot for the story. Anyway I already have one after many hours of considerations.

Kyōraku’s suspisions are inspired by ch 315.9 of manga where he saw Aizen’s illusion and was muttering to himself "Maybe I’m just paranoid". You’re not, Shunsui. But will he act on these suspicions that even isn’t solidified yet? Well, who knows. Nanao’s keeping an eye on him now, tho.

Also I want to thank everyone who left kudos, bookmarked the story or just read the first chapter even if you didn’t do any of that. I appreciate it!

So, for anyone who’s wondering, updates should come every 2–3 weeks depending on how busy I am. Feel free to hit the subscribe button if you want to recieve notifications on your email.

Chapter 3: But it wouldn't mean a thing if I told you how I feel

Summary:

Introducing Ichimaru Gin in the best Bleach traditions.

Nanao looked at the clock for the fourth time in an hour. It was past eleven but her Captain still was nowhere in sight. She leaned back in the chair, pushing rather thick stack of forms she was reviewing aside. It seemed that the paperwork in the in-tray grow overnight like some cursed weed. There was always more forms and one couldn’t hide from them. Captain, however, tried vehemently even if there was three particular documents that required his signature before noon. Nanao actually missed the time when he would lay on the office sofa for hours even if he watched her relentlessly. At least he had been there when she needed him, or his signature, more precisely. But as summer got closer, he disappeared from the workplace more and more. Now she had to hunt him down at bars or tea houses or parks. She probably could draw a map marking the locations of every bench in the Eighth Division grounds and the neighboring ones too.

 

Did he stop his scrunity towards her because he'd finally decided that Nanao was harmless? Or was it simply his habit to stay indoors during the colder months and roam when the days grew warm? Nanao didn’t know him well enough to tell but surely if Captain Kyōraku was suspecting her, he wouldn’t left her without supervision? Not that there was anything to notice, Nanao spent her working hours actually working, unlike others, and her free time was passed in the quietness of her quaters. She also wasted a few hours in the library, fulfilling Aizen's orders, but the results were nearly untraceable.

 

Still, Nanao could feel that something changed in her Captain’s attitude regarding her. She hadn't noticed the change at first. In hindsight, it seemed that something had shifted, quietly, somewhere in the early months of winter.

 

He still flirted with her, of course. But even that had changed, softened somehow. His gestures become more personal too, Nanao thought as her gaze drifted to the book lying on the edge of her desk. She hadn't touched it since that day a week ago.

 

Captain Kyōraku had appeared in the office earlier than usual that day.

 

"Nanao-chan works so hard even on this special day. Usually, I would only praise you for your diligence, smart Nanao-chan, but today... there is no way you can sit here and waste the time away filling the budget forms," he said, sounding almost scandalized.

 

Nanao glanced up briefly at him, standing here, looking too cheerful and energized for this early hour.

 

"Seeing as it needs to be done and no one else will do it correctly, sir, I don’t see any alternative," her voice was sharp. It was only the begining of the day and he was already here... pestering her. This forms were important and it's not she could delegate task like this to any other officer, not when an error in the division's budget could create a whole day of unnecessary work for her.

 

"Even the most hard-working officers deserve a day off on their birthday," the man said, smiling.

 

Nanao frowned a little. Well, that explained the package in his hands and his rather boisterous mood. Nanao had never celebrated her birthday. And of course she hadn't expected anyone to remember it, let alone acknowledge it. Captain Kyōraku must have read it in her personal file. Now she was really annoyed. 

 

"I don’t think personal matters should interfere with work, sir. Especially when I know you wouldn’t write these forms yourself even if you are perfectly capable of it," she said. The smile on captain’s face was guilty but unrepentant.

 

"If it gets my Nanao-chan to rest for a day — and maybe even have lunch with me to celebrate — I think I can fill a few forms for our division.” That was rather generous offer for him. "Happy birthday, sweet Nanao-chan," Kyōraku sing-songed and placed a package he was holding at her desk, right on the stack of unfinished forms.

 

Nanao though that she probably should reprimand him. But it would be rude to rebuke someone offering a gift. Even she knew that much.

 

"Thank you, sir," she said formally, giving a respectful nod, though she felt awkward under the weight of his gaze. Nanao probably should say more, she was sure about it, but it’s been too long since she recieved gifts, unwanted ones no less. It was better not to encourage the man, too.

 

"You won't even look?" His gaze lingered, expectant.

 

Nanao frowned again, hesitating. It was improper to open gifts in front of the giver, but Captain Kyōraku hardly cared about propriety and clearly wanted to see her reaction. Finally, with a faint sigh, she untied the green cloth wrapping.

 

A book. It actually wasn't that bad, knowing Captain Kyōraku. Nanao still tensed instinctively, expecting something inappropriate as she checked the cover. Poetic Memoirs by Murasaki Shikibu. Nanao didn’t recognize the title, nor the name, but that was to be expected. Poetry wasn’t her literature of choice. She didn’t read much these days at all and when she did, her reading was mostly limited to division reports and kido manuals.

 

"Nanao-chan would probably choose something more serious and dry herself," Captain Kyōraku said, watching her, "but I thought you might enjoy a few verses. Maybe even think of your dashing Captain when you read them." He winked at her. 

 

“You didn't write it yourself, did you, sir?” Nanao looked at him narrowly, suspicious. Over the time she’d known him, her Captain hadn’t given up his persistent efforts at poetry — usually, and to her dismay, with her as the subject.

 

Kyōraku only laughed, low and unbothered, clearly not offended by her tone. 

 

"I’ve been thinking about writing a romance novel, actually. Ladies love those. And I’m sure Nanao-chan would be among my most faithful readers." He fanned himself dramatically with his hand.

 

"I would gladly read a report written by you, sir," she replied dryly.

 

"No talking about work today, Nanao-chan! It’s your birthday. Maybe you should enjoy your new book." He leaned in slightly, his voice softening. "It’s important to have something beautiful to turn to sometimes, you know, even for someone as industrious and serious as you."

 

For a moment, something in her chest twisted.

 

"Thank you for thinking of me, Captain," she said eventually, keeping her tone smooth. Even if it was unnecessary and unprofessional, Nanao though to herself, her fingers tightening slightly on the book’s cover. "But… I hadn't planned to give you anything for your birthday, sir." The words escaped from her mouth before she could think them over, too blunt, too exposed. Nanao quickly straightened her posture, "though, if I may, it would be inappropriate."

 

She realized the moment she spoke that it sounded harsher than she intended. It wasn’t that she wanted to be ungracious — only that she hadn’t planned, hadn’t wanted to plan, anything for his birthday. No matter, let it sound harsh. Maybe it was even good to be rude a little, through she doubted that it seriously discourage her idiot of the Captain.

 

"Your hard work and pleasant company is more than enough of a gift to me, sweet Nanao-chan!" Kyōraku’s smile was still warm when he replied. "But since my birthday is in a few days maybe we could celebrate together?"

 

Nanao shook her head lightly. "I'm sure you already have with whom to celebrate it, sir." Unlike me, she thought, and pushed the foolish feeling aside.

 

Now, sitting in the same office, Nanao’s eyes drifted once again to the book. She hadn’t brought it home, she hadn’t even read it. Nanao didn’t know why. She didn’t like poetry all that much but that wasn’t it. Something inside her crumbled a little every time she looked at the small, leather-bound volume with plum blossoms on the cover.

 

Nanao allowed herself a brief, resigned sigh and felt for her Captain’s reiatsu. This time he was stupidly close to the office and she could detect him easily — a lazy sprawl of spiritual pressure, loose and bright and unmistakably Kyōraku, somewhere in the nearby park. She stood and left the building, stepping into unforgivable midsummer heat.

 

The air outside was thick and gold like honey and made even her drowsy. 

 

When she reached the park, she found him under the shade of his favorite maple tree, hat tilted low over his face as the folliage wasn’t dense enough to fully protect him from sunlight, one hand resting lightly on his chest. A picture of harmlessness. A lie. 

 

Nanao came to a stop a few paces away, letting her shadow fall threatingly across him, and folded her arms across her chest.

 

"Captain," Nanao wanted it to sound sharp but it seemed the summer heat was impacting her more than she wanted and it came out tired. "There’s three forms that requires your immediate attention."

 

There was no response but she knew better now. "I know you're awake, sir. Please stop with this theatrical behavior."

 

For a moment, the only response was the soft rustle of leaves overhead, but then her Captain tipped his hat even lower over his face, as if that could somehow hide him from duty — or from her.

 

"I don’t know how you can maintain that professional attitude in this temperature, Nanao-chan. But I’m sure there’s no one else in the entire Gotei 13 who could work under these conditions. So, however urgent you think those forms are, they can probably wait,” he muttered, voice muffled.

 

"I’ll have you know, sir, that the First Division works remarkably well in all conditions."

 

"Well, that’s very efficient of them." Kyōraku finally removed the hat from his face, grinning at her shamelessly. "But you don’t have to follow their example. Stay for a while, Nanao-chan," he coaxed, patting the grass beside him. "We can watch how the sun shines through the foliage and nap a little."

 

"Sir." Nanao actually wanted to nap, she didn’t sleep much last night, thinking, against her will, about Aizen and his no doubt diabolical plan. The problem was she didn’t know all that much about it. Now she was tired and her head ached and her Captain have the gall to lay here, being all himself.

 

Kyōraku tilted his head at her, his face softening further, "You look like you could use a nap, Nanao-chan."

 

She probably looked bad, Nanao mused. Maybe she should invest in make up or a sleeping draught. "I need you to sign the forms, sir."

 

"Today you’re crueler than the summer heat, Nanao-chan." He stood up, quite easilly and nimbly for a man who moaned so much. "And not only to me," the words were soft and Kyōraku said them without his usual dramatic. 

 

They walked to the office side by side across the sun-drenched courtyard, his steps loose and unhurried, and even hers were not so crisp and measured.

 

"Have you eaten yet, Nanao-chan?" her Captain drawled after a few moments of companionable silence or not so companionable, seeing as he refused to work at all without prodding. 

 

Nanao glanced at him briefly from the corner of her eye, but left the question unanswered.

 

"We can have an early lunch in that teishoku restaurant I know you like?" 

 

Nanao didn’t bother to ask how he figured out that she liked it there. "Captain, I only need you to sign a few forms and after you can spend your working hours however you please." Preferably somewhere else. It was good to have him signing documents when necessary, but honestly, it was easier to chase him down for a signature than endure his relentless attempts to invite her out to eat.

 

A small memory slipped into her mind before she could shove it away — her Captain, sprawling across the mess hall bench beside her, slinging an arm over the back of her seat with exaggerated flourish and proclaiming to the assembled division members that he and Nanao-chan were on a "very important date."

 

"They serve anmitsu this week. And sake jelly, but I don’t think you actually interested in those." Kyōraku’s tone seemed almost hurt.

 

Nanao ignored him. Whether he was really hurt or just seemed so, it didn't matter. She was here to earn his trust, to gather information. To help Aizen in whatever he planned. The idea of getting closer to her Captain, the way he wanted it, seemed like an easy route to archieve it, but it was actually the other way around. The office door slided open under her hand, its frame warm from the rising heat. Inside, it was cooler, dimmer and the coldness made it easier for her to think. Nanao moved immediately to the desk, placing the urgent forms before his chair with practiced efficiency. Captain, to his credit, sign where she indicated without his usual bemoaning, his lazy scrawl neater than usual.

 

After, he rose from the chair and disappeared in the open door without a word. Nanao expected him to wander off again, maybe vanish for another hour or four. Instead, just as she sent the papers to the First Division with one of the soldier, he returned with four small wooden bento boxes, stacked together on top of each other. Without ceremony, he crossed the room and placed two of them on her desk.

 

“I didn’t ask for anything,” Nanao said flatly, glancing up from her papers.

 

“You didn’t have to,” Kyōraku replied, eyes shining mischievously in the dim light. “I’ve seen that haunted look on your face when you work through lunch.”

 

Nanao gave her Captain a long, unimpressed stare, but pushed the boxes closer to herself. She was indeed hungry. 

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

“I got you an anmitsu, through I should probably brought you sake jelly, seeing as you were so ruthless to your Captain this afternoon,” it was definitely a mock hurt in his voice. 

 

He was ridiculous. “Thank you, sir.”

 

They ate in relative silence, save for the faint scrape of chopsticks, when Captain spoke again.

 

“We should still have dinner sometime, Nanao-chan. Somewhere you couldn’t bring your work with you."

 

She ignored him again, repressing a sigh. Silence was the best answer to this type of thing her Captain casualy said even if she wanted to snap at him. Nanao already talked with him more freely that she should, probably his harmless appearance and impossible attitude worked out on her after all. But he was an old, powerful captain, from noble familly no less, and she should watched what she said to him. That was without taking into consideration why she really was here, working under the man.

 

The silence between them lasted to the end of the lunch. 

 

That evening she finally made herself open the gifted book on a random page. She expected it to be love poetry, remembering the way her Captain grinned mischievously at her, but was surprised when she skimmed the verse:

 

As I idle the time away

on this drawn-out spring day,

strands of the willow

got all tangled up, like the affairs

of this sad world of ours.

 

It resonated with her deeply and Nanao put the book down, startled. How good her Captain knew her anyway? Better than she wanted, that’s for certain. Unfortunately, far better than she knew him. 

 

 

 

 

The months dragged on. Aizen didn't contact her much these days, and besides occasionally sending him information regarding the Twelfth Division database, she almost forgot that he existed. That was dangerous in itself. He could appear in her life again like a bolt from the blue, with a kind smile and dirty tasks for her at his hand. Nanao barely suppressed a shiver that threatened to overcome her whole body. The air was surprisingly cold for the early spring and she hugged the sheaf of papers she was holding closer to her chest. 

 

The Vice-Captain’s meeting had dragged longer than necessary and it was already close to evening.

 

Nanao knew that Aizen wouldn't expect the results regarding her task with Captain Kyōraku anytime soon, but she needed to be ready if he confronted her. It has been four years already since she became Kyōraku’s Vice Captain and she has come to terms with the truth: it was doubtlessly an extensive assignment. It wasn’t that bad, no; it was far better than serving under Aizen, she thought grimly. Not that she had ever truly escaped from him. Nanao let herself sigh. Definitely dangerous. She should remember why she was here. And it was not to play a model soldier at the meetings or endure flirtation from the halfwit in pink.

 

Nanao took the quieter path along the garden wall, hoping for a moment's peace after the ruckus of the meeting but soon heard the sound of soft footsteps behind her. She didn't quicken her steps, even though she already knew who was behind her.

 

"It's awfully cold to stroll like that, Ise," the boy behind her sing-songed, far too close.

 

She forced herself to turn calmly, though her heart jolted once in her chest. Ichimaru Gin was barely reaching her height, more an adolescent than adult, but his taunting voice still agitated her. 

 

"Ichimaru," Nanao greeted him, matching his casual tone.

 

Gin smiled wider, if that was even possible. For a moment, he walked alongside her, matching her steps perfectly, a warm presence against her side in the chill wind, too close for comfort.

 

"Comin' from the meetin'?" he asked lightly, as if he hadn't attended it himself ten minutes ago.

 

"Obviously," she replied, looking at him almost with disdain.

 

"Why so hostile?" His voice was playful, mock-innocent. "I heard you’ve become more friendly, nee, Nanao-chan?"

 

Nanao stopped walking abruptly at the familiar moniker. What was he insinuating? "Do you have no one else to bother, Ichimaru?" Nanao kept her voice cold and careless. She had nothing to fear; she was following Aizen’s orders with precision.

 

“Can't I have a word with an old acquaintance?" he asked, then suddenly leaned closer, still smiling. "Well, not so old. Besides..." His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. “...it seems you’re makin' new friends. But it won't do to forget the ones you already have, hmm?"

 

“You know exactly what I'm doing there. So you probably shouldn't waste your time cracking jokes with me." Nanao’s voice cut sharper now. She didn’t fear him, not really, but unlike her, he was Aizen's through and through, and she didn't want to spend more time in his company than necessary, nor did she want him to crack her facade enough to see underneath it.

 

"I know. But it doesn't mean you can't play house when you're at it, nee? You look real cozy with that new Captain o’ yours. Better not let Aizen know, he might get jealous." Ichimaru’s expression didn’t change at all. "’Course, I won't tell him. We’re friends, after all. Aren't we, Ise?" With that, he stepped away, light and easy, vanishing from her sight without waiting for a reply.

 

Nanao stood there for a moment and then turned around, walking even more slowly than before.

 

So much for a moment of peace. What had Ichimaru meant to say? Well, he hadn't been subtle in his wording. Did she indeed looked like that with Captain Kyōraku? Ichimaru was not the most pleasant person she knew, he was one of the worst actually, even if that didn’t say a lot about him, but he wasn’t the one to taunt someone pointlessly. He had seen something.

 

She had been cold and polite with her Captain, detached. Or had she? Nanao knew that she wasn’t acting all that indifferent towards Captain Kyōraku these days. The man tried time and again to provoke her into showing emotion. It had worked with varying success. Usually, the emotions Nanao was comfortable enough to show to her Captain was annoyance and exasperation, sometimes anger.

 

At first, she tried to supress them, but in a long haul, it wasn’t healthy at all. She needed to show some pieces of her personality to gain his trust. Kyōraku was a very perceptive man and the success of her assignment would decrease significally if she tried to create an entirely new persona just for him. She wasn’t that good of a liar.

 

What Ichimaru will tell Aizen? There was nothing to tell, so he probably really will stay silent. What bother her moreover, Ichimaru saw considerably more about her that she wanted. Did it mean that Aizen too? For a moment sheer panic overwhelmed her and Nanao involuntary quicken her steps. Did Aizen know how much she hated and despised him? Nanao was so carefull over the years but today’s encounter with Ichimaru showed that she wasn’t all that inscrutable.

 

Had she really get attached to Captain Kyōraku? Because he showed her some kindness, no more? No, that wasn’t it. Ichimaru knew nothing. Fool me onсe, Nanao though bitterly. She was his enemy. It was foolish to relay on his kindness, because even if Nanao didn’t see Kyōraku in battle, what she knew about him told her he was ruthless and cold-blooded regarding his enemies. No, she could never forget that he was dangerous, no matter how many years will pass since that autumn evening. 

 

Nevertheless, these days her Captain was a stranger to her as always. Nanao didn’t know anything about his past, or his plans, or his abilities. Maybe she was to blame for that as she ultimately held him at the arm lenght. She needed to focus on the assignment on hand, Nanao thought with a sigh. 

 

 

 

 

The next morning dawned gray and cold. Nanao had barely slept, even though she lay curled up on her futon, willing herself not to think of Aizen, Gin or her Captain. She didn’t even know what had shaken her so much. Even if Aizen saw right through her, as long as she stayed useful, as long as she did her job right, she still had a good chance of getting out alive and relatively unharmed. It was not even known whether Aizen knew anything about her true feelings towards him. That moron Ichimaru, playing with her like that. 

 

She arrived at the office as usual, even though getting up from her futon had been a challenge. There was a small mountain of paperwork in the in-tray, and Nanao took off her glasses for a moment, rubbing her eyes. More than anything she wanted to go to bed, exhausted beyond measure. Still, Nanao sat and prepared the ink and the brush. 

 

She worked for two hours or so, the characters blurring before her eyes, before she sensed her Captain’s reiatsu approaching and her hand tightened involuntarily around her brush.

 

“Good morning, Nanao-chan!" the words were routine and his attitude was as easygoing as ever, but today all of it together: his words, his smile, his kind, happy eyes, brought Nanao nothing but unease.

 

“Good morning, sir," Nanao could barrely conceal how drained she was. “There’s a report on your desk that you should read." It wasn’t urgent and nothing would change if he read it or not, but she still said it to maintain some visibility of normality.

 

Kyōraku hummed and moved to his desk, proping his hip against it, and skimmed the first page of said report carelessly. “All good, all good, as expected from my Nanao-chan," she felt how he grinned at her.

 

A few seconds passed in silence. 

 

"Are you alright, Nanao-chan?" now his voice was concerned. Nanao felt her mouth twitch a little. How he knew that something was wrong when she acted perfectly normal, was beyond her. 

 

“Everything is fine, Captain," she kept her eyes trained on the papers and her voice even and unbothered. 

 

“Well, you look a little bit tired." The silence stretched. “Maybe some tea would help?" Captain Kyōraku didn’t wait for her reply and busied himself with their tea set. Once the tea was steeped, he handed her a cup with a smile and a soft, deliberate brush of his reiatsu against hers.

 

He did it sometimes, especially when she refused to elaborate on her mood. It was meant to soothe her but usually Nanao only pushed back at him, irritated. It lost its peculiar edge rather quickly, leaving only exasperation at the intrusion into her personal space.

 

Today, it felt like the touch of a hot iron. Nanao withdrew her spiritual pressure sharply, noticing how her Captain flinched, clearly startled by her intense reaction. 

 

“Thank you for the tea, sir." Her voice was perfectly polite. Nanao swallowed, keeping her face composed, but inside she felt raw.

 

There was a long silence. She didn't lift her eyes.

 

“You're welcome, Nanao-chan." The tone was warm, but there was no usual playfulness. Was he upset?

 

The moment he looked away, Nanao let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her pulse pounding heavily in her temples. What have she usually let him get away with? And how wrong was Ichimaru exactly?

 

Better not let Aizen know, he might get jealous.

 

Nanao shivered, remembering his words. She needed to be careful. Her Captain had indeed gotten too close to her. She better stick with Aizen and remember where her loyalties lie. No matter what Gotei 13 would do to her if she were exposed, Aizen would do much, much worse.  

Notes:

The chapter is earlier than planned, but better not to get used to it, haha

Anyway, I've learned a lot about Japanese culture while writing this chapter. Did you know they have a type of sushi restaurant with a rotating conveyor belt that winds through the restaurant and moves past every table? It’s called sushi-go-round or smth. That’s neat. Almost as neat as sake jelly.

Also in Japan, it is generally considered polite not to open a gift in front of the giver. This practice goes from the cultural emphasis on humility and the idea that the act of giving is more important than the gift itself.

Thanks everyone for feedback and for reading!

Chapter 4: All of my mistakes, gathering like storm clouds

Summary:

Things are starting to heat up.

She should have refused to do it.

 

Nanao held her sword with shaking hands, her whole body trembling; partly from fear, partly from fatigue. The idea of collapsing into the tall grass without a care came briefly into her pounding head, but she dismissed it as unprofessional and spineless. For better or for worse, Nanao was a prideful person. Probably for worse, since she was already nauseous with exhaustion.

 

A few meters in front of her, Captain Kyōraku was beaming, proud and happy. Despite herself, Nanao felt contentment seeing her Captain’s approval.

 

“You hold better than I thought you would, Nanao-chan. Maybe we should make a bet?”

 

She shouldn't encourage him. “And what kind of bet would that be, sir?”

 

“Well, we can make it something simple,” Kyōraku tapped a finger against his lips as if in thought, but she had seen the playful gleam in his eyes just two heartbeats ago. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t bode well with her. “How about the one who loses give a kiss to the winner?”

 

She kept her expression neutral and her eyes trained on his, even if she wanted to glance lower down his face. “Do I understand you correctly, sir? We train, and regardless of who wins, we kiss?” Nanao added the right amount of disappointment and exasperation in her voice at the end, though she almost wanted to smile at his ridiculous idea. Almost. 

 

“Yes, that’s the plan, Nanao-chan!” He grinned at her, clearly pleased with himself.

 

“I have a better idea, Captain.”

 

“Mm? What a better idea can there be, other than that?”

 

“The one who wins writes the yearly budget report for the First Division.” Nanao made sure to sound like it was a generous offer.

 

“Nanao-chan, aren’t bets usually meant to motivate you to win?” The look on Captain’s face was perplexed, but she could see right through him. He clearly liked to be dramatic.

 

“I thought so too, before you made your suggestion, sir.”

 

“But what if we make a bet using your suggestion and you win, intelligent Nanao-chan?” He grinned again, playful and warm, and Nanao loathed herself with how much she liked to be at the receiving end of his smiles. It wouldn't end well for her.

 

“As if I could win against you,” she muttered, shaking her head.

 

“You could try. It’s not good to give up without making an effort. Maybe you should release your shikai. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen it. I’ve been neglecting your training, haven’t I?”

 

They faced each other in the field of ripe grass, the air of early summer blissfully cool under the shroud of grey clouds. Two weeks ago, their newest recruit Tatsufusa Enjoji had nearly destroyed the left wing of the unseated officers’ barracks with his zanpakuto. Aside from creating a rather tall stack of additional paperwork, the accident revealed the lack of proper swordsmanship training in the division. As a result, Nanao had to harass her Captain to actually do some work. He’d agreed to lead courses surprisingly quickly, probably because it occurred to him that he could train her too. Or rather that he could pester her and flirt shamelessly. 

 

Nanao had wanted to protest; she had no desire to spend even more time in his company. But then, it dawned on her that it was a perfect opportunity to observe him, to learn something about his abilities. Maybe, for once, she could report something useful to Aizen.

 

Now they stood there, Nanao a little worse for wear while her Captain smiled carelessly, looking as fresh as a daisy. His skill really set him apart. Not that Nanao ever had an opportunity to spar with a captain. But now that she had, it actually frightened her, how vastly stronger he was. It has been more than twenty years since she knew him and while she came to respect him as her superior officer, while she always knew that he was dangerous, the reality of it still surprised her stupidly. 

 

Tearing herself from uneasy thoughts, she replied, “If only you plan to release yours, it won’t be of much use for me, sir.” There. Nanao felt how her heart pounded in her chest. Now she was nauseous from nerves, not exhaustion.

 

“How come?” Now he indeed was perplexed. 

 

“My shikai isn’t for attacking. It reflects an opponent’s zanpakuto attacks, though it won't be useful against physical strikes.” She was fairly certain it could reflect a kido attack as well, but it was not necessary for him to know that.

 

“Hmm, so your shikai is similar to Ukitake’s,” Captain Kyōraku muttered, so low she barely heard him. “Well, that could be dangerous, Nanao-chan. Maybe we should focus on your fencing skills more, first. What form does your wakizashi take when released?” His voice was louder now. 

 

“Captain Ukitake’s shikai has a reflective ability?” Nanao was feeling sick. She had learned something, at least.

 

“Mmm? Yes.” Kyōraku replied absentmindedly and looked at her closer, suddenly worried. “Are you feeling alright, Nanao-chan? You look dead on your feet. Come,” he sheathed his sword and approached her, guiding her toward the lone tree in the middle of the field, his hand scalding on her back. 

 

The weather was only mildly warm, but Nanao felt overheated, running and dodging and attacking a much stronger opponent for more than three hours.

 

They sat under the tree, and the Captain handed her a container of water. “Here, sweetheart,” he eyed her with concern. Nanao didn’t bother to correct him, still too agitated, though she always made a point of rebuking such familiarity.

 

“Thank you, sir.” The water was lukewarm, but she took several mouthfuls, distracted. Hopefully, he mistook her anxiety for fatigue. Nanao usually was so calm and composed, but recently the thought of reporting anything to Aizen had begun to bring her unease. Too bad, seeing as she would have to report anyway.

 

“I think that’s enough for today. Looks like rain’s on the way,” her Captain said, pointing toward the front of richly blue clouds in the west. "We can train more next week."

 

Nanao nodded, feeling like she had enough excitement for the day. “We should probably return.” The clouds were distant, but it would take some time to return to Seireitei.

 

“Let’s sit a little longer. We still have time.” Nanao noticed his a little patronizing tone, but didn’t argue. It was pointless enough. They indeed had a little time.

 

She set the water aside and leaned back heavily against the trunk of the tree. Now that the fear and anxiety had faded, the exhaustion hit her in full. The Captain beside her relaxed as well, smiling again. He picked up her water and took a few sips, watching how the rising wind moved across the grass. 

 

There was a distant murmur of thunder and Nanao began to feel secure and content as she often did when the storm approached. No matter that they were still out in the open field — soon they would reach shelter, and she could watch the rain poor from the safety of her home, untouched by its harsh coldness. 

 

She glanced at her Captain out of the corner of her eye, but looked to the heavy clouds almost immediately. If he noticed, there would be no escaping his teasing. Nanao suddenly recalled her first meeting with him, how she had feared his suggestive looks and comments would lead to complication of her work. And now, here she sat, acutely aware of the scent of flower soap and sake, trying not to look too much at her commanding officer. Sometimes, Nanao wondered if she was developing some sort of a mental affliction. The truth was, she already knew she wasn’t mentally sound, not least due to meeting Aizen. 

 

No matter how Nanao wanted to deny it, Ichimaru had been right. She had grown attached to Captain Kyōraku rather quickly. He was kind and she couldn't help but be drawn to that kindness. How pathetic she was, desperate for some type of connection; for the feeling of belonging; for someone to care for her, just a little.

 

Suddenly all her feelings of contentment and security were gone. Her shoulders sagged. There was nothing pathetic about any of these things. It was natural for a person to want them. Still Nanao knew how perilous it was for her. This would turn out terribly in the future, she was sure of it. 

 

 

 

 

 

Shunsui glanced at the woman beside him, noting the quiet slump in her shoulders, the way her now sombre eyes had drifted from the clouds to the ground. There was no understanding of Nanao-chan these days. Just a moment ago she was fairly happy, enjoying the view of an oncoming storm and stealing glances at him, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He'd contemplated briefly to tell her that she could look at him as much as she wanted, but decided against it. His efforts in making Nanao at ease in his presence started to pay off only recently. But now she looked crestfallen and miserable, and maybe he should have teased her just a little. Angry and indignant Nanao wasn't his favorite, but everything was better than sad and unhappy one. 

 

He hated seeing her like this. He could offer comfort, maybe a joke or an invitation to talk, but Shunsui knew how that would go. Nanao would deny everything coldly and politely, even if she looked like she might burst into tears. The sight of it was breaking his heart a little every time, so he asked her no more. And as much as he’d wanted to reach out to her with his spiritual pressure, he hadn’t dared it since that time she’d withdrawn her own reiatsu so violently it made him flinch. 

 

Something wasn’t right. Shunsui just couldn’t place what exactly. At first he wanted to blame Sousuke somehow. She always reacted oddly when Kyōraku mentioned him, although when Nanao and him met the man somewhere, she always looked calm and polite, not forced at all. Aizen in return barely paid attention to her, occasionally asking after her health and duties. Still Shunsui just couldn’t let go of the feeling of oily unease when he saw the younger Captain. He should accept that there was nothing wrong with Sousuke. He was just feeling like that because of Lisa’s disappearance and Urahara’s accusation that followed it. And yet…

 

What was interesting enough is that Nanao was stiff when talking to Sousuke’s Vice-Captain, Ichimaru Gin. Gin was always friendly, trying to engage her in the conversation. She was courteous, of course, but… uncomfortable. Shunsui had seen it more than once. And not only with Gin. The pattern was taking shape: Nanao didn’t like people getting too close. Or maybe she thought she didn't like it. Shunsui had seen her relax, even smile around him, when he managed to say or do the right thing. With Ukitake too. 

 

No, he shouldn’t give up his attempts to be closer to Nanao. She just needed to see that letting people in wasn’t dangerous. That he wasn’t dangerous.

 

Shunsui tilted his head toward her, voice light. “So, I was thinking, we could have dinner together tonight. What do you think, Nanao-chan?”

 

“We could have dinner, as long as you don’t insist on cooking it yourself, sir.” She sniffed a little. Ah, still holding a grudge from his last attempt to lure her to his home under the pretense of preparing a meal.

 

“But why, Nanao-chan! You haven’t even tried my cooking. Everyone says it’s quite good. Ask Ukitake, if you don’t believe me,” he still persisted.  

 

“If Captain Ukitake says so, it’s probably true,” she agreed easily, eyes flicking toward him with the faintest ghost of a smile. Shunsui laughed aloud. 

 

“Excellent! What would you like me to make?”

 

“I didn’t say you should cook, Captain. Only that you might be telling the truth,” Nanao said flatly, but there was still amusement in her eyes and he felt encouraged by it. 

 

Thunder rumbled again, much closer now. Shunsui leaned in just a little, lowering his voice. “Tell you what, you could still think about it, on our way back. Let the idea simmer a little.” He added a wink for a good measure. 

 

 

 

 

 

They reached the Seireitei gates when clouds above them began to look ominous. The wind picked up even more, snapping at their clothes violently. Kyōraku’s pink haori flared wildly behind him. 

 

“Yare, yare,” her Captain’s voice was amused, but he held onto the pink cloth firmly with one hand — the other kept his hat in place. Nanao had never understood how he always managed to keep that thing on his shoulders anyway. Did he use pins?

 

“Maybe we should just go home,” she said, eyeing the sky with apprehension. “There’s going to be a downpour.”

 

“Changed your mind?” Kyōraku’s smile was hopeful now and Nanao briefly considered  agreeing. They could cook something together, the water drops would tap on the porch, and after dinner she could sit, listening to the storm and her Captain’s voice. He had a habit of mindlessly humming songs and while she found it aggravating in the office, it would likely mix wonderfully with the sound of rain. Nanao would admit it only under torture, but she liked his smooth and low voice just a little too much.

 

What harm would it cause if she agreed? Her work ethic would suffer a little, but not crucially. Nanao had nothing to worry about, really. Then she remembered her thoughts from earlier. The pretty picture in her head was nothing real. The thought of how Captain Kyōraku would look at her, with anger and disappointment, if he knew what she was, made her chest burn. If he knew, he’d never smile at her again. Suddenly, she wished for Aizen to just disappear from her life like a forgotten nightmare. The idea startled her and she frowned. If only it could be that easy. 

 

"That's okay, Nanao-chan," Kyōraku said gently and she lifted her eyes to him, already having forgotten what they talked about. “You don’t have to say yes. I’ll walk you home.” She could feel his reiatsu just on the edge of hers — a warm heavy blanket in contrast to the harsh wind — before it retreated. In times like this she regretted her outburst years ago, because no matter how many times Nanao said to herself she didn’t need it, she still yearned for that kind of comfort. She wondered briefly how suffocating his spiritual pressure would feel, dangerous and deadly, in the end. 

 

“Thank you, sir.” How many times did she thank him over the years?

 

They walked briskly, the wind hissing sharply through the streets, which were empty now. A sharp gust tore through a cluster of pine trees nearby, showering them with needles. Then the rain fell, sudden and heavy, like it sometimes did in summer, fat drops of water making the road wet in seconds. They darted across the road and took shelter under the wide overhang of a corridor. Water hammered the wooden eaves above, sharp and relentless, but the space beneath stayed dry.

 

Nanao caught her breath, brushing wet hair from her cheek. "We should have just used shunpo."

 

The Captain chuckled, and she looked at him disapprovingly. “But Nanao-chan, where’s the fun in that? Now we’re here, huddled close, standing against nature together. It's a valuable experience. And if it gets too cold, cute Nanao-chan can cuddle up with me.” He tugged at his soaked haori, now deep rose instead of its usual pale pink. The change of color didn't make it look better. 

 

“I highly doubt it’ll get that cold, Captain.” Still, Nanao admitted to herself that it was almost nice, standing like that with him, sheltered from the storm.

 

“Here, this one’s dry and warm.” Kyōraku held out his white captain’s haori, but Nanao shook her head.

 

"There is no need, sir," she raised her hand to create a mild heating spell. It dried her clothing well enough, though she didn’t dare use it on her hair. "If you want, I could dry your haori too," Nanao smiled just a little. Sometimes, she imagined setting the ridiculous thing on fire.

 

"That’s a neat trick, Nanao-chan!" He held out his wet haori. "But it’s a pity, too. I wanted to see you in white. The color would suit you." Nanao didn’t say it, but he definitely looked good in black. She needed to stop thinking along these lines. 

 

"Ah, I see you were caught in the rain, too. Captain Kyōraku, Vice Captain Ise," Ichimaru Gin stood at the end of the corridor, dripping water heavily. Did he fall in the puddle? Still, getting drenched hadn’t spoiled his mood. He looked as cheerful as ever.

 

"Well, not like you did, Gin-kun." Kyōraku replied good-naturedly. Nanao remained silent but nodded in greeting, careful not to frown at the other man.

 

“Was just headin’ back to my quarters,” he said lightly and Nanao realized that they were on the Fifth Division grounds. "Were you comin’ back from somewhere?" 

 

“Yes,” her Captain said, still jovial. “Nanao-chan and I were training in the Rukongai.” Nanao instantly wished the rain would stop and disperse immediately. The storm meant little to shinigami, but there was no excuse to step out and get drenched. She regretted declining the invitation to spend the evening at her Captain’s home. That would have been preferable to being stuck with Ichimaru indefinitely.

 

"Oh? Where exactly, sir?"

 

"Ninth District in the East. It’s rather nice this time of year."

 

"Yes, good spot for practice, that. And it’s always useful to learn somethin’ new," Ichimaru said, tone perfectly polite, but Nanao could sense the hidden meaning of his words. "Maybe you could teach me that kido trick, eh, Ise-san?"

 

"Of course, Vice-Captain Ichimaru," Nanao replied, aiming for civility, but judging by the concerned expression on Kyōraku's face, she didn't succeed. She couldn't help herself. Nanao could pretend with Aizen, who was indifferent to her these days, but Ichimaru’s sharp eyes paired with that smile of his made her want to either strike him across the face or hide behind her Captain. 

 

For a few moments, the only sound was the heavy patter of rain. The puddle beneath Ichimaru’s feet grew larger.

 

Kyōraku looked between them for a moment, then placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. Nanao wanted to shrug it off under the taunting gaze of the white-haired man, but repressed the urge. That would look even worse. "You use a mild spell, don't you, Nanao-chan? Bit of heat, like a soft fushibi."

 

"That's right, sir," she replied, hoping she looked composed from the outside. 

 

"Simple trick, but all good things are, eh?" He still hadn’t removed his hand.

 

"Indeed they are," Ichimaru nodded, smile growing even sweeter. Nanao tried not to look at his face.

 

Maybe some gods had heard her plea, because the downpour finally began to ease. 

 

"Ah, looks like we won't have to wait much longer. After every storm, there's always sunlight," Kyōraku said.

 

Nanao honestly doubted it. 

 

"That's true,” Ichimaru nodded politely at the other man. “By the way, Captain Kyōraku, a few days ago there was a joint mission between your Division and the Fifth. I'm sure the Vice-Captain informed you," Ichimaru looked pointedly at her.

 

"Ah, yes," Kyōraku finally removed his hand from her shoulder, and Nanao felt she could breathe again. "What about it?"

 

"Nothin much. Just some reports that need reviewin’, sir.”

 

"We’ll send someone for them," Kyōraku waved his hand carelessly.

 

"Yes, please do. They should be ready by tomorrow." Ichimaru's eyes were on her again. Aizen wants to see you. Nanao repressed a sigh. It had already been too long since her last report. She didn’t want to think about whether there were new assignments waiting.

 

"Good, good. We should probably get going before the rain picks up again. Mmm, Nanao-chan?" Captain's gaze was warm when he looked at her and the contrast was jarring. She nodded.

 

"Of course, sir. Have a nice evenin’," Ichimaru almost sing-songed. 

 

"Yes, you as well, Gin-kun."

 

Finally, finally, they stepped outside, air heavy with the scent of water and ozone, and Nanao let herself relax a little. For now. 

 

 

 

 

 

Aizen was pleased with her. It was easy to see in the way his smile was sharper than usual, the lenses of his glasses couldn't hide the gleam in his brown eyes. Nanao pondered again how her Captain and this man could seem so alike, and yet be so entirely different. It unsettled her, but she still answered his questions calmly. No, I didn't notice that Captain Kyōraku suspects anything, sir. I'm sure he trusts me, sir. Yes, we were training. Captain Ukitake’s shikai probably has some sort of reflective ability, like mine. Did she imagine it, or did Aizen’s smile falter slightly at her last phrase?

 

"You did well," he said, the smile returning before she could be sure. "Keep trying to learn anything you can about Kyōraku’s zanpakutō. It may still prove useful, even if he suspects nothing."

 

Nanao let herself frown at that.

 

"We will still need to incapacitate as many captain-level shinigami as possible," a rare explanation was offered. "Changing a system as old and immovable as the Gotei 13 will be a difficult process. I’m sure you understand that." She couldn't read Aizen's tone at all and it made her return to the question of what exactly he was planning. 

 

She had known, vaguely, that Aizen intended to bring upheaval to the Gotei 13. And at one point, she might have at least understood the need. No, she couldn't care less about the power dynamic in Seireitei back then, but the system did look corrupt: unstable captains left unchecked, Central 46 delivering arbitrary rulings, prisons made for those who hadn’t even committed crimes yet. But the more she learned about Aizen and the Gotei 13 itself, the more she doubted all of it, until finally, the veil was lifted entirely. Gotei 13 wasn't all bad and Aizen wasn’t trying to reform anything. He was a liar and a madman hungry for power.

 

To incapacitate. The meaning behind the word was clear. Under the soft and caring gaze of Captain Aizen, Nanao felt like her body no longer belonged to her. 

 

"I can see that, sir," she said quietly. It wasn't anything new, but it struck her more deeply now. She had always told herself to focus on surviving. But lately, survival hasn't seemed enough.

 

"It’s not going to be a problem, is it?" Aizen asked, watching her closely. "You know I’d never ask you to kill anyone, Nanao." No, he wouldn’t. He never had. He was more than capable of that himself or through the hands of his other henchmen. But Nanao remembered how her research had aided his hollowfication experiments. Shouldn’t she be horrified? Yet in Aizen’s presence, she felt nothing at all.

 

"Of course there will be no difficulties, sir. I will do as you asked." The word were mechanical and practiced, but looking at Aizen Nanao suddenly wondered if she could kill another person. She probably could. The reluctance wasn't a problem. The capability was.

 

 

 

 

 

When she was finally away from Aizen's chilling eyes, Nanao let herself feel the depth of the pit she was drowning in. She was going to follow his orders, there was no question. If she wanted to live, it was her only option. For a moment, Nanao imagined telling her Captain everything, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. If she was to disobey, Aizen would make sure for her to regret that choice in the future. And death was not the worst fate that could await her. What would happen to Captain Kyōraku? Nanao knew Aizen had some apprehensions about him, but there was no telling how much they were justified. Would he disappear too, if he stood between Aizen and his plans?

 

No, she has to do as planned, there was no other choice. All of her little pathetic feelings were meaningless. She didn't belong. Where were Urahara and the others? Several Captains and Vice-Captains no less, all forgotten and discarded aside due to Aizen’s manipulations.

 

Still, Nanao wondered how many terrible orders she would be able to carry out before she broke down. 

 

Suddenly, the weight of her past mistakes, her fear of the future, and the horror of her present circumstances crushed down on her like heavy summer rain. It was already nightfall when Nanao left the Fifth Division barracks so there was no one in the courtyard. Thankfully so. She pressed against the nearby wall, feeling how her legs gave out. Nanao wanted to sob, but all she managed was a few silent tears. She felt angry at herself for crying, too. But she couldn’t stop and the tears finally began to fall in earnest.

 

"Ise, Ise, Ise. Didn't I warn you?" The mocking voice of Ichimaru made her flinch just as his shadow stretched over her. "You know how Aizen dislikes kinks in his plans. Tsk, tks."

 

If she’d been standing, Nanao might have collapsed right then. Maybe the future she so feared was closer than she thought.

Notes:

So, I gave Nanao a wakizashi in this story, even though she usually has a tanto in AU. Why wakizashi? It’s longer, cooler, and have better attack potential than a tanto. The main difference is that a tanto is usually under 30 centimeters, while a wakizashi is 30 to 60 cm. Theoretically, Nanao could hide a short wakizashi (35 cm or maybe even longer) in her sleeve without any issue. I fitted a knife that long into the sleeve of one of my oversized shirts, just to check if it true, ahaha (please don't attempt at home!).

Chapter 5: And I waterd it in fears, night and morning with my tears

Summary:

Nanao finally realized a few difficult truths she needed to confront.

The tears stopped instantly, overpowered by terror. The heart in her chest stopped too, just for a fraction of a second. Then it started beating again, frantically, making her choke. Dead, dead, she was dead. Maybe worse. Nanao felt her now-cold limbs trembling, but strangely, a wave of heat rose over her face. She was foolish to let her emotions get the better of her. Ichimaru always appeared at the most ill-timed moments. She should’ve known. Now he was smiling down at her, taunting, condescending, and suddenly the terror was joined by hatred. The notion that this psychopathic weasel thought himself superior made her vision blacken for a moment.

 

"Now that ain’t a good look for you," Ichimaru’s voice was much closer now. When everything came into focus again, Nanao noticed he was crouched a step away. His smile hadn’t changed as he gestured faintly with a tilt of his chin. Her sword. Nanao realized she was gripping it firmly, which was surprising given how much her hand was shaking. Her fingers were already numb, but she only tightened them on the hilt.

 

"You gotta keep a better hold on your emotions, Ise, or else it would spell trouble." Gin’s words echoed her own thoughts, but it was too late for that advice now. She was in trouble already.

 

If Nanao could think clearly, she’d realize how pointless it was. Attacking Ichimaru wouldn’t help if what she knew about him was true. However, there were no alternatives. What else could she do? Beg for his silence? Try to convince him that… what? That she was Aizen’s loyal follower?

 

There was no need for any of it. He had always known, or at least suspected, the truth. But there was no proof she was less committed to Aizen’s cause than she claimed. Ichimaru was just waiting for her to slip up, she knew it. How many times had he suddenly appeared when she was escorting her captain somewhere? Watching her interactions with Kyōraku too closely, with that polite smile, always subtly mocking?

 

And now she had slipped up.

 

There was nothing for it.

 

Nanao rose to her feet in silence and pulled her zanpakuto slightly from the sheath. 

 

"Ah, ah. Let’s not go makin’ hasty decisions now," the man murmured, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "You might regret it, y’know. Besides, what's the need for such drastic measures? Or now that I saw you cryin’, the damage to your honor is so great, you gotta kill either me or yourself?"

 

Nanao ground her teeth, hesitating now that he sounded so civil. She studied his expression, unreadable as always. What should she do? If there was even the slightest chance he wouldn’t report her behavior… Nanao swallowed hard, feeling how dry her mouth was. She sheathed her zanpakuto under his amused gaze. 

 

"That’s better," Ichimaru said, rising to his feet in one smooth motion. "We wouldn't want Captain Aizen to see us quarrelin’, would we?" His tone was carefree and mocking as always, but Nanao noticed how his smile had thinned.

 

"Could you, at least once, speak like a normal person?" Nanao was tired of his endless games. Hypocritical of her, as she lied to everyone, including herself.

 

"’Course I could. But you wouldn't like it." Ichimaru replied sweetly, his wide smile returned.

 

"You could try it and we'll see," she said, turning toward the general direction of the Eighth Division, finally letting go of her zanpakuto’s hilt. He was right. They, or at least Nanao, wouldn't want Aizen to see the scene she’d caused. The only good thing about it all was that her reiatsu was still tightly controlled around her.

 

Ichimaru fell into step beside her with his hands in his sleeves, and to any outsider it would appear they were having a pleasant conversation. Nanao decided right then that she would not believe a single word that came out of his smiling, deceitful mouth.

 

The man, it seemed, had already guessed how the conversation would go. "You always expect the worst of me, don't you?" he said, shaking his head slightly, as if deeply hurt, but the gesture didn’t match the look in his eyes. "I told you that we're friends, nee?"

 

"I wouldn’t believe we’re friends even to save my life," Nanao replied coolly. It was a loud declaration — one she shouldn’t have made, considering she was relying on his cooperation. But the words were out, and she didn’t take them back. They weren’t friends. At best, Ichimaru was toying with her for his own sick amusement.

 

"You say that, and yet you’ll believe all sorts of fairy tales to save it." Ichimaru’s voice dripped with mock concern. "I’m disappointed in you, Ise-san."

 

Nanao remained silent, mulling over his words. At first glance, nothing he said ever made sense, but Nanao knew better. Her head throbbed, from his riddles or from tears, she couldn’t tell. 

 

"So… are you trying to offer me some friendly advice now, Ichimaru… san?" she asked. She tried to play along with him, though for what, she wasn't sure.

 

Thankfully, the gate of the Fifth Division came into view.

 

"I already did," the man chuckled. “You better listen to it. After all, gods ain’t always merciful. Better keep that sword of yours close. I wonder... does it have the ability to reflect the power of god?"

 

The power of God. Nanao frowned. It was hard to understand Ichimaru — even if she wanted to. 

 

"Is it even wise to fight a god?" she asked absently, still trying to guess what he meant. 

 

"Wise? Probably not. But sometimes it’s the only thing left. If you wanna live, that is," Ichimaru tilted his head, watching her. "Or maybe it ain’t your life you’re worried about, mm?" he added with a wry smile.

 

Nanao’s spine stiffened, but she said nothing. She didn’t want to admit it, but she wasn’t only worried about herself anymore. However, the idea of her being Captain Kyōraku’s protector was absurd. She shot Ichimaru a sharp look when the realization hit. Did this sick bastard just compare Aizen to a god? Why would he do that? Ichimaru wasn’t the kind of man to worship someone blindly. How much did he know about Aizen’s plan? Probably far more than she did. That comment wasn’t random, still she couldn't understand what it meant. 

 

"I wouldn’t take you for someone who believes in gods," she said carefully, holding back a grimace as the words left a sour taste in her mouth. 

 

Ichimaru laughed, and for once, it almost sounded genuine. "’Course I don’t believe in ’em. And you don’t either, do you?"

 

"You want to say we're so alike?" she asked coldly, throwing him an unimpressed look. 

 

They reached the gate and Ichimaru stopped, leaning closer.

 

"I wouldn’t go that far," he murmured, his grin turning predatory. Nanao resisted the urge to reach for her sword. "Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out. If you’re smart," he added, leaning back again.

 

If she were smart, Nanao would’ve broken free from Aizen’s grasp a long time ago.

 

"Does Aizen know?" The words slipped out before she could stop them. Foolish, to show Ichimaru weakness, but she had nothing left to lose tonight.

 

"You’ll have to be more specific," Ichimaru replied, smile widening. "Probably not. But it’s always hard to tell with Captain Aizen, yeah?" he amended, shaking his head theatrically under her unamused stare.

 

Nanao gave him a shallow nod. She wasn’t sure whether to believe him. Maybe she’d be dead by the end of the night. Or worse, turned into one of Aizen’s experiments. What was she even doing here, trying to outmaneuver him, Aizen, and Captain Kyōraku all at once? She wasn’t nearly a good enough liar to deceive them all.

 

"I didn't thank you for the advice," she began. Even if Nanao didn't trust him, it seemed like a good idea to thank him. Polite, too. 

 

"Don't mention it. How many times do I gotta say we’re friends?" he turned to leave. "Bye, Ise-san," he added, waving a hand lazily over his shoulder. The polite honorific didn’t match his mocking expression. 

 

Nanao watched him go without a word, anxiety rising. The thought that she needed to stop him pounded in her head. She suppressed it, turning away, trying to rein in the panic clawing at her chest.

 

She suddenly wanted to run. Just run and not look back until she was so far away, she could forget, if only for a little while, that any of this was real. Her first step was slow and reluctant as she turned toward the Eighth Division barracks. Come what may. Nanao told herself she didn’t believe Ichimaru, but she did. He hadn’t threatened her. His mocking expression didn’t match his words, which spelled a warning. But not a threat.

 

The ability to reflect the powers of God. Not God, no. Aizen’s powers. Aizen, whom Ichimaru had called a god if she understood it correctly. If you want to live…

 

"Ise-san?" Nanao stopped mid-step. Rangiku Matsumoto stood in front of her, arms loosely folded, the faint scent of sake curling around her. "It’s rare to see you out this late," the woman said with a gentle smile.

 

Usually, Rangiku wasn’t the worst person to talk to — if she didn’t try to make her enlist in the Shinigami Women's Association. But tonight, Nanao had already spent all her social energy. Better to end the conversation before it even started.

 

"Vice-Captain Matsumoto. Good evening," Nanao straightened her posture, smoothing her features. If the scent of alcohol meant anything, Matsumoto was already tipsy — not a good sign. She tended to become more... amiable when drunk. That was often the cause of Nanao’s irritation, especially when Matsumoto came to share sake with Captain Kyōraku. 

 

Rangiku tilted her head, studying her. "Long day?"

 

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Nanao lied carefully. Maybe Matsumoto wasn't that tipsy after all. "I was just walking home."

 

Better to keep everything as close to the truth as possible. 

 

Nanao tried to step past, but stopped when Rangiku touched her shoulder. Unlike with Captain Kyōraku earlier that day, Nanao drew back immediately, letting the hand fall. The touch wasn’t meant to intimidate her, but Nanao avoided contact all the same when she could.  

 

Rangiku let it pass without a comment. "You know Ise-san, those who work hard deserve to relax too. Let’s go somewhere, have a drink. It’s not always about the sake."

 

Nanao bit back the question of whether that meant Matsumoto herself should be relaxing, given she clearly wasn’t working hard. The conversation had already gone the wrong way. 

 

"Is there a reason for you to be here so late, Matsumoto-san?" She asked, keeping her voice cool and measured. They were still near the Fifth Division grounds. Knowing Rangiku, she was likely here to visit Ichimaru. Nanao didn’t know why she was so attached to him. Didn’t matter.

 

A pause. Then Rangiku gave a small shrug. "I had plans. But maybe I’ll postpone." She smiled again, but this one had a different shape to it. Nanao didn't know what to say — she never knew how to respond to this kind of softness. The silence between them grew.

 

"Next time, Ise-san. You owe me a drink now." Rangiku said lightly, after a few more seconds of quiet. 

 

Nanao knew she would regret it later, but still she gave a slight nod. "Have a good evening."

 

The woman smiled at her and walked away without another word. Nanao stood there a moment longer. Then she vanished into shunpo. She couldn’t risk being seen again, not tonight.

 

 

 

 

Finally in the quietness of her rooms, Nanao felt relatively secure. She wasn’t safe, never safe, but the predictable scents and familiar items soothed her a little despite herself. It also helped that not Aizen, not Ichimaru, not even her Captain had ever been here. Her Vice-Captain’s quarters were the space that belonged to her and her alone.

 

Also now that Nanao was safe, panic began to set in. She tried to keep herself together, but between Aizen’s announcement, Ichimaru’s riddles and the fear for both her life and Captain Kyōraku’s, everything threatened to overwhelm her. 

 

Maybe she should listen to Matsumoto and have a drink. Alcohol seemed to have the magical ability to solve all kinds of problems, if the stories were true. A lie, of course, but one Nanao was willing to believe tonight. Or at least try. 

 

Nanao locked the door behind her — a pointless act if someone really wanted to enter, but the ritual added to the feeling of security. She promptly walked to the small kitchen, standing in front of the lone wooden cabinet. There it was: some rather stupidly expensive wine her Captain had presented her a few years ago for her birthday. His gifts, usually tasteful and well-meaning, had grown more eccentric in the last half-decade. Thankfully, there was nothing too inappropriate yet, but Nanao was fully prepared to use his latest present — a foldable, metal-based fan with a rather suggestive poem on it — if it came to that. She suspected the Captain had written the verse himself, about her no less, but he claimed he’d bought it like that, denying the double meaning of the words vehemently. 

 

The gifted wine had sat untouched on the shelf since the day she received it. Nanao had thanked Captain Kyōraku politely, as always, but believed she’d never drink it.  Her lips curved in a semblance of an uneven smile. Strange times had come. Nanao hesitated briefly, debating whether she should indulge in the dubious benefits of alcoholism, and at last took the small jug out. Perhaps it would help lessen the rising panic.

 

Of course, there was no chance that alcohol poisoning would solve any of her problems, but Nanao ignored that quiet voice of reason in her head for now. The thoughts she was going to have tonight were too burdensome, and some fortification was needed. Obviously, she would insist on that unreasonable idea.

 

The wine wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad exactly, but the taste was peculiar and burning — as expected from poison. Nanao forced it down, wondering how Rangiku and her Captain drank this kind of thing so casually. Her face was burning. She pondered how much she’d have to consume before the effects started to show. The second cup went down easier, although the taste was the same.

 

After a few more mouthfuls, Nanao finally felt her body relaxing. It was almost pleasant, but her head swam, and she didn’t like the feeling at all. The realization of her own vulnerability struck her like a slap, though not as sharply as it should have. Her body no longer felt like her own. It was a bad choice. No good effect justified it. She shoved the jar aside and turned her face away, already feeling sick. Her heart beat erratically, and it was getting worse. How long would this last?

 

Misery pooled inside her. What was she doing? She pushed herself upright on unsteady legs, nearly tipping over a table, and staggered to the bedroom. The futon came out in jerky, tired movements. A fresh wave of nausea hit her, and Nanao fell to her knees, panting. Well, she had no right to be surprised by the result. This was her own doing.

 

With trembling fingers, she removed her glasses and set aside her zanpakuto. Drinking had been a mistake. Nanao had been making a lot of those lately. The room swam even with her eyes closed. She lay down without taking off her shihakusho, trying to suppress the desire to vomit. The only small mercy was that thinking clearly now was impossible.

 

Sleep was impossible too, not that Nanao had hoped to fall asleep tonight without some aid. There was medication for that in her dresser, but now, drunk and sick, it was better not to add pills to the mix. What a fool she was.

 

Time stretched torturously. Her body still felt awful, but her mind slowly cleared. The weight of the day hit her like a pile of bricks. Between the alcohol poisoning and her musings, Nanao felt like she could commit seppuku right then. Setting that ridiculous notion aside, she rolled onto her back, opening her eyes to the blackness of her bedroom. The room wasn’t spinning anymore, which was a good sign.

 

The picture in her head was more coherent too. Aizen’s ambition — to gain power that rivaled the gods — made too much sense. It aligned with everything else. And maybe you needed that type of strength to usurp control in the Gotei 13. Aizen knew that he lacked it now, that’s why he ordered her to spy on Kyōraku and Ukitake. Along with Captain-Commander Yamamoto, they were the most likely obstacles.

 

Nanao frowned a little. He’d disposed of others so easily that night. If only she could get more information on Aizen’s plan… She had to get that information, through Ichimaru or somehow else. Aizen was not the type to keep his evil plans in writing, hidden under a pillow, but there had to be something. Something Nanao hadn’t paid enough attention to, too terrified to stick her nose in Aizen’s business.

 

She would find a way. With that, she rolled onto her side, staring unseeing into the darkness. Ichimaru’s words played in her head over and over. Better keep that sword of yours close. Does her sword really possess that much of a threat to Captain Aizen? 

 

Her breath hitched and she sat up. Aizen’s smile had faltered when she mentioned Ukitake’s sword, its reflective ability more precisely. Like hers. She hadn’t been mistaken, then.

 

Nanao reached for her zanpakuto from where it rested beside her, swiping a finger across the hilt. Aizen’s shikai was based on illusions, he’d told her that. Back then, she’d felt special to be entrusted with such a secret. But now it was obvious that Aizen hadn’t risked anything by telling her. She had been blind, grateful and he had understood that so well. Even now Nanao was silent, though for very different reasons.

 

Could she truly oppose him? The thought alone filled her with terror, and she lay back, curling into herself, holding her sword close to her chest.

 

If you want to live.

 

Did that mean Aizen could dispose of her if needed? Of course he could. But Nanao had counted on being useful, on that sliver of what she thought was mentor’s affection. Had she misjudged everything? Should she even take Ichimaru’s words to heart? Was he warning her — or playing with her? He knew too much. He even knew about… Nanao winced. She had hoped this coup would be clean, even bloodless. But the idea was laughable now that she thought about it. And Captain Kyōraku’s life… 

 

The nausea surged again. She barely made it to the bathroom before retching up wine and bile, her eyes watering.

 

"Bad choices," she whispered with a short, pathetic laugh. All Nanao had ever done was make bad choices.

 

Unsurprisingly, she felt better now that the horrid wine had left her system. Maybe it was even a good idea to take the sleeping pills now. Tomorrow, she would think about it all with a clear mind. Finally, a wise idea.

 

After washing her face and mouth, Nanao poured herself a glass of water and took just one pill. It was already closer to dawn than she liked, and the workday was creeping near. She returned to bed, but another hour passed before sleep finally took her — an hour she spent trying, and failing, not to think at all.

 

 

 

 

Consciousness returned sharply, and Nanao was glad for it. Just a nightmare. Still, she eyed the room warily before letting her body go slack. Alone. 

 

The sun had already risen, higher than it usually was when she woke. That wouldn’t do. Nanao tried to get up but failed instantly, her vision blackening at the effort. She lay unmoving for a minute or two, waiting for the black spots to fade.

 

What had happened? Her thoughts were sluggish and dull. There was a rainstorm. They had gotten wet because she and Captain Kyōraku had trained too long. Her mind, unhelpfully, slid her an image of him in just his black shihakusho. She frowned through the lingering pain. There were reports she needed to send for. 

 

Ichimaru.

 

The memories came flooding back, but Nanao felt detached, the shock of it all unable to reach her through the fog. Still, she knew she had to get up. She tried a second time and succeeded, though the room wobbled slightly around her.

 

She felt like shit. The words were crude, and Nanao grimaced at herself for thinking them. Nevertheless, the notion stood. There were no better terms to describe her state. That much was confirmed when she saw herself in the mirror.

 

Nanao decided immediately that there was no way she could show up at work today. Maybe if she really tried, she could power through. But the idea was dubious at best. If others saw her like this… No, if Captain Kyōraku saw her like this… Nanao didn’t know what he’d think. But more than that, she feared what he might ask. There was no reasonable explanation for her appearance. Except there was — she was unwell. It sounded like the truth. It was the truth. 

 

She should call in sick. Nanao never skipped work and it surely would look odd, but it was still the best course of action. It wasn’t that strange for even someone like her to fall ill once. She just needed to send a message to the office, cooking up some simple story about the cold. 

 

Her Captain would surely show up at her door the moment he heard about her absence, she had no doubt. But hopefully not right away. He usually came into the office midmorning. By then, she’d look better.

 

Yes. She would send the message, get rid of the jar of wine in the kitchen, and put back on the image of the Vice-Captain everyone expected to see. Everything else could wait.

 

 

 

 

After a shower, Nanao started to feel like the woman she had been just yesterday morning — calm, collected, rational. Her eyes were still bloodshot, and the idea of food made her sick, but the floor beneath her feet no longer rolled away. There was a certain regret for her actions the previous night, but a bright side too. She had learned more about Aizen and his goals, even if it all came wrapped in Ichimaru’s cryptic words. 

 

She also had realized a few difficult truths she needed to confront. First, there was no garantie for her safety even if Aizen’s orders were fulfilled to the letter. Second, the life of Captain Kyōraku meant more to her than she’d thought. Here came the trouble Nanao had been dreading ever since she first understood the depth of her attachment to him. And third, alcohol was the worst possible option to solve any emotional problems. The last part may be more valuable than it seemed at first glance.

 

But the price of knowledge was far too steep: Ichimaru confirming his suspicions about her true loyalties. Now she had to live with the fear that Aizen might dispose of her in the blink of an eye. Nanao tried to convince herself otherwise, that she could trust Ichimaru to keep her secrets, but all of it was in vain. While it was probably true that he wasn’t against her, his goals and motives were beyond her comprehension, and for his own gain, Ichimaru would condemn her just as easily as Aizen would.

 

Which brought her back to that earlier thought: there was never a guarantee of safety.

 

It also added to her to-do list the point to investigate about Ichimaru. That might be even more difficult than learning the details of Aizen’s plan. Gin was a hard one to understand and, of course, there would be far less written evidence or systematized data about him. Nanao would have to learn the hard way — through having conversations with him. Given his need for mockery, his superior emotional intelligence and what he held over her head, it would be strenuous. But not impossible. 

 

Nanao pushed the thought aside and dragged herself to the kitchen. While she wanted to vomit just from the sight of food, she needed to choke something down. Something simple, plain. 

 

Still she stood unmoving, leaning heavily against the table. Should she even think about fighting Aizen back? It was a wise question, one Nanao needed to mull over carefully. What would happen if she didn’t? It was hard to tell, with so many things at play. Open confrontation, on the other hand, could end in disaster for her. No, she couldn’t act rashly. First, she needed more data. Then she could decide what —

 

The sharp flare of her Captain’s reiatsu, dangerously close, made her flinch. It was immediately followed by urgent knocks on her door. 

 

Nanao froze. She had expected his visit, just not this early. The workday had only begun two hours ago. What frightened her was the force of his spiritual pressure, heavy and cold, though now it had subsided, almost returning to its usual state. Thoughts raced through her mind, one more absurd than the other. Did Ichimaru tell him everything? No, not everything, just the part about her. That she was a traitor, a criminal working against him. Nanao clenched her fists when she noticed her hands were trembling.

 

More knocks. Less frantic this time. Followed by his voice calling her name. Nanao-chan.

 

The sound calmed her instantly. Nanao felt stupid. If he really knew, truly knew, he wouldn’t be standing there politely waiting for her to open the door. That wasn’t how you dealt with a culprit.

 

Nanao took a deep breath, making sure that her own spiritual pressure was controlled, and stepped forward to face her commanding officer.

 

When she opened the door, he looked normal. His hat was absent, which was unusual and his eyes were a little sharper — Nanao tensed when she noticed — but otherwise, he looked like himself. 

 

"Nanao-chan!" He didn’t try to enter her home right away, and for that, she was grateful. Maybe he would leave after a short conversation. "Strange things happened today! Some boy from the Fifth Division brought the reports to our office, said no one came to take them."

 

Clearly, their Third Seat, tall elderly man named Satō Takaaki, was doing his job poorly. Nanao had left explicit instructions. Then again, she frowned, she’d asked to send for the mission reports by noon and there was still time.

 

"Sir," she bowed slightly, keeping the door half-closed, making sure her expression was calm and composed. "Did Takaaki-san pass on my message to you?"

 

The Captain looked at her more closely now.

 

"Did you get sick, Nanao-chan?" he asked. His eyes softened, and she felt herself relax, probably for the first time since yesterday evening. "No, I didn’t receive any messages. But I noticed you were absent — which is very unusual for you — and then there were reports —"

 

"My apologies, Captain. I asked our Third Seat to inform you that I would be taking a short leave due to illness. I also asked him to get the reports by noon. I don’t know why the Fifth Division sent them over so soon."

 

"No, that wasn’t it," Captain Kyōraku shook his head. "Don't worry about them, Nanao-chan. How are you feeling?" 

 

Nanao stood awkwardly under his gaze. Obviously, her Captain was worried about her, but his concerns were exaggerated. She wasn’t sure what to say.

 

"I’m sure I’ll be at work tomorrow morning, sir. You should probably leave — it may be contagious," she replied carefully.

 

Captain Kyōraku didn’t seem to listen to her much. He was still watching her closely. It reminded her of her first months working under him and she tensed again. Was it possible he could guess how she’d spent the night? He was known for his love for drinking, after all. Nanao cursed herself again for her poor choices.

 

"Nonsense," Kyōraku said at last, waving her words off. "Maybe you should go to the Fourth?" he added softly. 

 

The idea of going to the Fourth Division to treat alcohol poisoning and a sleepless night was absurd. Moreover it would make it obvious she didn’t have a cold.

 

"Captain, it’s just a common cold. I’ll be fine by evening," Nanao said, as confidently as she could.

 

"If you say so." He didn’t look convinced. "Do you need anything? I could make you lunch. Though it would be better if I demonstrated my cooking skills under better circumstances." His tone was light, but his eyes were intense on her face and the message was clear: a request for invitation.

 

Immediately Nanao wanted to refuse — she didn't want him snooping around her house. He would likely leave her alone too, but for how long she wasn't sure. Probably to return after an hour or so. It was hard to deal with Captain Kyōraku when he was that intense. Better to give up and let him soothe whatever concerns he had. Nanao also didn't want to admit it, but his worried expression softened something in her. She opened the door a little more. 

 

"I’m not hungry, sir." That was true. "And it’s not wise for you to get close to me."

 

Her last words were spoken in vain: her Captain already understood he had the permission. "I don’t know any situation where that’s true, Nanao-chan!" he grinned, stepping over the threshold.

 

Any softness Nanao was feeling was gone now that he was here, in her space. She felt her shoulders tense, her arms instinctively folding on her chest. Nanao forced them down, when she noticed it. She shouldn’t let him here, but it was also hard to refuse him. 

 

Kyōraku’s eyes wandered over her quarters as Nanao expected, but he focused his attention on her sooner than she wanted. 

 

"Why don’t you sit, Nanao-chan? And I could get something started. What do you want to eat?"

 

"Captain, I already told you I'm not hungry," Nanao didn’t want to sit, she would prefer to lay down actually, but as long as he was here it was impossible. "You really should go before you catch a cold too."

 

"I'll make you some rice with vegetables," he didn’t listen. "And tea. Unless you’d rather I don’t? I could get you something from noodle shop?" 

 

The alternative wasn’t much better. "I would prefer if you didn't do either as it’s pointless. I don't think I could eat at all right now."

 

"You will instantly feel better after a meal, trust me, Nanao-chan," he said convincingly, his voice gentle, but without a room for argument.

 

"If you say so, sir," she said tiredly. The idea of him cooking in her small kitchen felt wrong and out of place, but she headed there without another word, Kyōraku following her behind. 

 

She sat on a pillow beside a table, watching her Captain with mild suspicion. He took off his pink haori and captain’s coat and now was in the process of looking through the contents of her cabinet. Thankfully she already got rid of wine.

 

Nanao let herself watch her Captain openly — even more unfamiliar without his layers, but he glanced at her too from time to time and she finally shifted her gaze elsewhere.

 

He didn’t speak, and the quietness that filled the room had a beneficial effect on her headache. Nanao closed her eyes, listening to the soft chopping sounds her Captain made, slicing the vegetables. 

 

"I’m sorry if I’m overstepping," Kyōraku said after a while, and Nanao looked at him, surprised. The words didn’t suit him — or rather, they suited him too well. He was always gracious and that was the trick. Then again, for a man who invaded her personal space so often he was far more respectful and polite than it could seem at first glance. It was actually the first time he indeed imposed on her.

 

"It’s all right, sir," Nanao said, evenly. It wasn’t, but she couldn't say that to him, not now, when he was so soft and polite. Nanao hadn’t stopped him, and now it was too late.

 

He poured some water to heat it on the stove. "I just couldn’t help but think something happened when I learned you didn’t show up for work. It was almost like..." He trailed off, turning to her, eyes gentle and a little sheepish. "I didn’t scare you, did I? Back when I showed up at your door?"

 

Nanao made sure to keep her face open and calm. "Of course not, sir," she lied smoothly. "But I did wonder what happened."

 

"I’m sorry that I scared you, Nanao-chan," he said solemnly, and this time she didn’t try to deny it. It would fall on deaf ears. 

 

He turned back to the stove again, placing a cup of tea on the table beside her after a minute. "Here, it’s jasmine. I was shocked to learn you didn’t have any powdered green tea."

  

It was typical of him to make jokes when she was uncomfortable. "As if I would have something like that," her scoff was automatic. Her Captain chuckled. 

 

The tea was indeed good for her. The slight sickness she was feeling finally faded away. She put the half-empty cup on the table and absently looked out of the window.

 

It was almost like what? Captain Kyōraku probably referred to the disappearance of his latest Vice-Captain, Lisa Yadōmaru. That explained his erratic reiatsu when he appeared at her door, and how it almost instantly calmed when he realized she was here. 

 

Lisa Yadōmaru. Another victim of Aizen’s hollowfication experiments.

 

Nanao didn’t know many details back then. She didn't ask as by that time, the fear and apprehension were already associated with Aizen in her mind. But she suspected. Nevertheless, Nanao didn't care against whom the knowledge she systemized would be used as long as it was not against herself. She’d only wanted to stay alive.

 

Now, the man she had already betrayed stood in her kitchen, making her lunch. Nanao looked at him again, closely. He smiled when he caught her eye — soft, open — but for once, his smile left her unfazed.

 

Would she do it again? Would she? She didn’t know. 

 

Suddenly she couldn’t pretend the cost of her decision would be anything other than real.

 

Nanao looked back down at her hands, resting on the warm ceramic of the teacup. Her fingers didn’t shake now. Her voice would hold, if she needed to speak. Still Nanao didn’t know if she could outright lie to Aizen without trembling.

 

But she couldn’t obey him without thinking anymore too.

 

That thought didn’t bring relief. Aizen was clever. Aizen was always watching. And somewhere, inside the hollowness of her chest, a small part of her still longed for the warmth he had given her once, when she had nothing else. Even if it had always been false. She had needed it. 

 

Her Captain stood at the stove, humming now. The same casual tune he sometimes whistled in the office. It should have made her feel safe.

 

It didn’t.

Notes:

So, a week ago or so I’ve posted a draft by mistake, sorry!

Anyway, now we have some lame titles for each chapter. The one for ch 5 is from Blake’s poem A Poison Tree, I like it quite a lot.

The chapter itself is longer and richer than usual and I wonder if I should rewrite the ch 1&2 (or more) to make them better. When I started writing, my English skills were rather rusty.

Big thanks to everyone, especially Kenny27 (who left comments for all the chapters) and user 1123581321 (who also care enough to spend a minute to leave a word or two).

Chapter 6: And it grew both day and night till it bore an apple bright

Summary:

Fooling herself was a full-time job and Nanao already had too many duties she must perform.

Nanao liked teaching kido to the troops more than she wanted. She enjoyed the normality of it, the simplicity. Leading training sessions required no lies, no secret messages, and it gave her a sense of usefulness not tainted by guilt. Most importantly, it made her feel like she belonged here: in this division, among these souls.

 

Sometimes, when Nanao tried really, really hard, she could forget what her true purpose in the Eight Division was. 

 

She had proposed the idea herself not long ago, shortly after she'd forced her Captain to lead sword training. Captain Kyōraku had approved it, of course, though he’d clearly been surprised — Nanao rarely expressed interest in tasks beyond her standard duties. The explanation had been simple: a good way to strengthen the division, reduce casualties among officers, and foster teamwork. All sound, logical points and yet, Nanao had no real answer for herself. Why was she trying to get closer to them?

 

It always took just one wayward thought to ruin her silly illusions.

 

All of it — the smiling recruits, their respect, her satisfaction of a work well done — was meaningless. It was nothing. Beneath the veil of half-truths, Nanao was a traitor, working without any worthwhile purpose for the man she despised. And sooner or later, they all would know.

 

Fooling herself was a full-time job, and Nanao already had far too many duties she must perform.

 

She dismissed the group of recruits she had been instructing a few minutes early, her good mood had vanished. They all seemed glad for it, offering her grateful bows, some thanking her aloud for the lesson as they shuffled off the training lawn — it was too costly to train inexperienced soldiers indoors.

 

Nanao turned toward the office herself, enjoying the warmth of  the mid-autumn sun on her face. It was only midmorning — time to sort through the latest reports that surely awaited her. 

 

But when she opened the door, Nanao was greeted by a rather bizarre sight.

 

Captain Kyōraku, for once, was sitting behind his desk with a brush in hand, and not lying on the nearest available surface. When she neared he looked up, offering her a smile, gentle and happy, but not too radiant, which meant he was sober, or at least not fully drunk. The situation was becoming stranger by the second.

 

Nanao studied his face for a long moment, noticing how his smile widened at her scrutiny, and finally asked, "Captain, what are you doing?"

 

"Why, Nanao-chan! It’s good to see you too," Shunsui chuckled. "And I’m working, of course."

 

At that, her Captain attempted a look of wounded dignity, but it was far too artificial to be convincing. Nanao narrowed her eyes and plucked the papers from under his hand. 

 

She scanned the first page briefly and immediately felt her face heat up. As expected, it wasn’t division work. When Kyōraku started to laugh quietly, she promptly placed the papers back on the table.

 

"Captain," she said disapprovingly, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "This doesn’t qualify as work." 

 

"It’s a draft for my romance novel," he replied, eyes twinkling. "I’ve decided to submit it to The Seireitei Communication. You see, Ukitake’s stories are all the rage, so I thought I’d finally try my hand too."

 

"Did the Ninth Division see your draft, sir?" Nanao pressed her fingers to her forehead for a moment, feeling her blush fading away. The piece she read wasn’t that risqué, but the notion that he wrote it embarrassed her. 

 

"They did! Hisagi-kun approved it," Shunsui said, then added with a grin, "with some amendments."

 

"I see."

 

"You didn’t like it, Nanao-chan? I was hoping to charm sweet Nanao-chan with my literary skills," he pouted.

 

It's not that she needed any more charming from her Captain. 

 

"There’s no need for that, sir. I’ve already read your poetry," Nanao replied flatly. Though surprisingly that hadn’t helped to avert her either. 

 

Captain Kyōraku sighed, disappointment evident on his face, but dropped the topic. It was a familiar scene between them — him steering the conversation toward something more personal, and Nanao shutting it down, every time. Always the same steps.

 

"You know, Nanao-chan," he said, leaning back in his chair and giving her a smile again, though less bright than the first one. "I was thinking, you should write something for The Seireitei Communication too."

 

Nanao looked at him, unimpressed. 

 

"An advice column, perhaps," he continued. "Given your sense of duty, morality, and responsibility, I bet it would be popular amongst shinigami who need some guidance."

 

Should she feel pleased that her Captain thought so highly of her? All Nanao felt was a dull ache in her chest.

 

"I don’t think it’s a good idea, sir," she said softly, turning to her own desk.

 

"Why not? It might be good for you, sweetheart," Kyōraku said softly, watching her from his seat. "You’re always so careful with people, but that Tanabata festival last year, you enjoyed that, didn’t you? By the way, Rangiku-chan said she misses you."

 

Another familiar scene. One she’d lived through too many times to count. Apparently, Captain Kyōraku had made it his personal mission to nudge her into being more social. Nanao certainly didn’t miss "Rangiku-chan" all that much. Not after that incident where the woman had dragged her out to drink, despite her firm refusals.

 

The in-tray didn’t hold as much as expected, which was surprising for this time of the week. Still, Nanao sat down and began sorting the paperwork. A few forms for bonus money, one mission report from the Living World, and an expense sheet awaiting approval. Not much.

 

"I don’t have the time to write a column for a magazine," she finally replied, scanning the forms. "And please refrain from addressing me in such an inappropriate manner."

 

Captain Kyōraku pulled a face, she could feel it without the need to look up. Then he stood up, stretching lazily, the silk of his robes made a soft rustled sound, and Nanao caught herself glancing at him before she could stop. Her gaze flicked away the moment after.

 

"You can try. If you don’t enjoy it or you don't have enough time, you can always stop. Simple," he said, stepping closer. "Did you notice the paperwork’s lighter today?"

 

Nanao narrowed her eyes. Another oddity started to clear. 

 

"Captain," she said coolly, "if you’ve hidden the office work again, I suggest you return it now. The work doesn’t do itself just because you’ve stashed the reports somewhere."

 

Nanao looked at him  over the rim of her glasses, which she knew was at least a little intimidating. Sadly, it had no effect on her Captain, who looked unbothered by her stern glare.

 

“I got it done.”

 

She kept looking at him, silent. 

 

"I did," Kyōraku insisted, looking at her almost guiltily. Now she believed him more. "It just needed a read and my stamp," he smiled at her, scratching at his beard.

 

"Any particular reason for this... sudden burst of diligence?" Nanao asked dryly, though she already suspected the truth. Increased productivity and reduced office drinking was the only leverage Captain had over her when he wanted her to do something. 

 

"No particular reason, no. Just felt like doing some work," Shunsui replied and shrugged a little. Nanao nodded, not believing him at all, and lowered her gaze to the documents on the desk again.

 

"But now that your schedule’s cleared a bit," he continued — there it is, she thought wearily — "maybe you’ll consider my idea about the advice column?"

 

Nanao heard him walk closer, moving to stand behind her chair. Then his hands settled gently on her shoulders.

 

The touch made her whole body tingle. Nanao suddenly was drowsy and far too relaxed to work. It was a bad reaction to her Captain touching her, one she didn't want to have. She sighed a little.

 

"Sir, please remove your hands from my shoulders before I remove them from your body."

 

"My Nanao-chan would never do that!" Kyōraku laughed. "Think it through, clever Nanao-chan, how would I sign the papers?"

 

"I have a few ideas," she reached for her folding fan. 

 

"But Nanao-chan," Shunsui protested as he moved to stand in front of her again, "my signature would be illegible! Though I suppose, with practice, I could learn to sign papers with a brush in my mouth…"

 

He looked genuinely thoughtful now. 

 

"Reminds me of a dream I had once. You were in it too. We were at the office —"

 

"Did the Ninth Division pay you to persuade me?" Nanao interrupted him.

 

Kyōraku chuckled. "Just think about it, Nanao-chan."

 

It was easy to agree, because thinking about it obligated her to nothing. She gave a small nod and returned to the bonus forms. Still Nanao had already know she would consider it seriously. Would it really do her good? Later, when the truth inevitably came out, how would they all remember her? What would they think of her?

 

Did it matter?

 

Nanao stamped the forms with distracted precision. Unfortunately, she cared now what at least a few souls would think.

 

It had been getting harder to hide from her Captain lately. He had a way of showing up in her thoughts, dominating her life more than she liked to admit. Now Nanao couldn’t make any meaningful decision without wondering what he would say, how he would look at her. 

 

But it wasn’t only that.

 

A few weeks ago she was shopping on her free day and noticed the tea set she thought Captain would like. It was white inside, plum blossoms delicately painted in each cup, with a bright jade glaze on the outside. While Captain Kyōraku was associated in her mind with cherry blossoms and red maple leaves, the tea set still reminded her strangely of him. 

 

She’d bought it without a thought. 

 

Now it sat in a drawer at her home, untouched. Nanao had never given him a gift before and it surely would be strange to start now.

 

She looked through the sheet of expenses, laying it aside to show to Captain later. She didn’t know why she’d bought it. Maybe she just wanted to give him something, for once. 

 

It was hard to maintain her lies, but Nanao tried vehemently and with such diligence she rarely showed except for the end of the year, when it was time for budget reports.

 

 

 

 

There was another task she had pursued with all her diligence and failed miserably. Nanao still hadn’t learned anything useful about Aizen’s plans. In hindsight, that failure was only to be expected. Aizen wouldn’t leave anything written, not if he was smart and he was. If there were notes, data on hollows, anything concrete, it would be locked away, beyond reach. One way to find out would be to break into his personal quarters — a move Nanao wouldn’t dare even under the threat of death.

 

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, Nanao leaned down to untie her waraji. The workday had ended half an hour ago, and at last she was home. A relief, because even if she had come to appreciate the lively, warm atmosphere of the Eighth Division, Nanao still preferred the quiet safety of her own space.

 

She moved further inside, trying to focus on something simple: what to eat, what book to read. It was better than thinking about the rest. At that, Nanao padded to the kitchen and set a pot on to boil, half on habit, half in protest against the ache in her gut. She needed to eat, or between the work for the Division, her role of a spy and her efforts to uncover Aizen’s schemes, she was going to collapse. 

 

And how long could she keep this up without collapsing, really?

 

Nanao prepared her meal, trying not to dwell on the answer. But the question lingered. The cowardly part of her argued for delay, for caution. Yet she knew the truth: the time was coming when she would have to choose a side.

 

Being against Gotei 13 meant death and being against Aizen meant certain death. Nanao let out a sad chuckle at the thought. There was little use, fearing death when she was caught in the crossfire.

 

Nanao was alone.

 

Some days, that truth scraped raw. On those days, all she wanted was to tell Captain Kyōraku everything — to confess it all and let him decide what should be done, regardless of the cost. Those were the days she avoided looking at him altogether, because if she met his eyes, the words might spill from her mouth before she could stop them.

 

She sat at the table, trying to focus on the motion of lifting chopsticks, the warmth rising from the bowl.

 

It was an easy way out, really, even if she was terrified of what Captain would think of her. But the consequences of that choice may turn disastrous, not just to her or him, but to the entire Gotei 13. What would he do? It’s the question Nanao asked herself often. There would be disappointment, maybe even anger, she could see it clearly — frowned brow, the pain in his eyes, the unforgiving weight of his reiatsu — but his reaction regarding Aizen was a puzzle. Would he bring the truth to the other captains? Confront Aizen himself? Most important, what would Aizen do then?

 

The soup tasted like nothing. Nanao reached for the salt, knowing it wouldn’t help.

 

Gotei 13 couldn’t stand against Aizen’s illusions, not if they couldn’t even see the attack coming. But if Aizen’s sword was truly unbeatable, why hadn’t he acted yet? 

 

And then, there is Ichimaru, with his cryptic smirks and squinty eyes. 

 

Nanao removed her glasses, massaging the bridge of her nose. The world blurred, mercifully — everything blending into vague shapes and smudges. Something didn’t add up. She replaced her glasses slowly, and the answer struck her. 

 

All this time, she’d operated under the assumption that everything Aizen had told her was true. But maybe it hadn’t been.

 

It was a paranoid thought, the kind that could unravel her sanity if she let it. But the more Nanao considered it, the more likely it seemed. She wasn’t in Aizen’s inner circle. Since that night on the Fifth Division grounds, he hadn’t contacted her again. That wasn’t unusual, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d reported to him since her promotion. It only confirmed that he played the long game.

 

Or maybe she wasn’t useful to him right now.

 

Nanao pushed the half-full bowl away and rose from the table, her appetite gone.

 

Her assignment had been simple: learn more about Captain Kyōraku’s abilities. So far, she’d failed at that too. Not for lack of effort, but because all her attempts had been deflected with little more than flirtation and teasing. A relief, in a way, because her ability of lying to Aizen’s face was something Nanao hadn’t yet wanted to test.

 

She moved to the other room and sat on the sofa, opening a worn volume of poetry decorated with plum blossoms, but didn’t read. 

 

Aizen wouldn’t act yet, he wouldn’t risk it until the conditions were perfect. Too much was at stake. And so she wouldn’t rush either. If she played her cards right — if she was smart — Nanao would get to the bottom of it and save not only herself, but others too. 

 

 

 

 

 

"...horrible."

 

"His wife, too…"

 

"...they decided to take off early."

 

Nanao passed two shinigami standing by the wall, the fragments of gossip reaching her ears against her will. She didn’t slow. While eavesdropping could be useful, Nanao held a quiet distaste for such methods. Besides, there was nothing helpful in cheap petty talk of two men. 

 

"I don’t know how Captain Ukitake will cope with it."

 

That line landed differently. Her step faltered just for a moment, but Nanao didn’t stop. Listening openly would draw too much attention — and it was against her sense of pride. She shook her head slightly. It likely wasn’t anything she needed to concern herself with.

 

The sun was already high. Nanao had just returned from First Division, her thoughts occupied with another matter: tracking down her good-for-nothing Captain, who disappeared somewhere without a trace. Probably far away too, because her usual method of tracking his spiritual pressure didn’t work. If he would return to the Division heavily inebriated again like yesterday afternoon… Nanao felt her eye twitch. She would find a way to make him regret it.

 

No, there was no use wasting precious time to search for him all around Seireitei, Nanao decided. She had other things to do. If the mountain won’t come to her… well, she could wait.

 

The patience turned to be a virtue, because as she neared the Eighth Division barracks, Nanao spotted him ahead, walking somewhere slowly, his hat pulled low. She quickened her pace, both to greet him and ask how long he would be out.

 

"Captain!" Nanao bowed to him respectfully, her exasperation gone now when she saw he was sober.

 

Kyōraku lifted his head just enough to look at her, eyes still hidden in shadow. His mouth curved in something like a smile, small and reluctant, not the teasing grin that was usually reserved for her. Nanao frowned before she could stop herself.

 

"Did something happen, sir?"

 

Captain Kyōraku didn’t reply, but sighed heavily, his eyes still in shadow. Her thoughts flicked back to the two shinigami she'd overheard on her way here. Silence grew and Nanao stood there awkwardly, debating whether to excuse herself. She shifted from one foot to another, finally opening her mouth, when he spoke.

 

"Let’s visit Ukitake, Nanao-chan. I was just walking there," he said, voice surprisingly bland.

 

She nodded, swallowing her questions. It won’t do to ask again, when her superior ignored her first query. She waited for him to walk again, then fell in step behind him, a pace back.

 

After a while Captain started to slow down until they inevitably walked side by side. Maybe nothing extremely bad happened if he still insisted on breaking the protocol, Nanao thought doubtfully. But she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him like this. If ever before.

 

"Kaien-kun died last night," Kyōraku said suddenly, as if continuing a conversation. "In the battle. The Third Seat too. A few other officers."

 

Nanao turned her head sharply toward him.

 

"There is nothing we can do now, of course," he added. "But it’s still worth showing Ukitake support."

 

Nanao pursed her lips, trying to decide on what she should say and coming short. 

 

"Of course, sir," she heard herself reply, "I’m... sorry to hear that."

 

Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say, but it was what she had. Captain Ukitake wasn’t especially close to her, though they’d spoken many times, because her own Captain meets with him often. He always had been friendly and polite, warmly asking after her day with a smile. Ukitake was kind, more kind than any other person Nanao knew, including Captain Kyōraku, whose kindness and softness always carried a dangerous tone underneath. And even if that danger was never pointed at her, it was still easy to feel in him.

 

The Thirteenth Division grounds were quiet. Whether that was because of what she now knew, or whether the air had truly changed, she couldn’t say. Nanao wasn’t an empathetic person — she understood others through logic and gained skill, not feeling. That’s why she was surprised by her own intense reaction to the death of Thirteen Division’s officers. They were no one for her. And still.

 

Sentarō and Kiyone sat outside the Captain’s office, looking uncharacteristically grim. No bickering, no loud greetings. They stood only to bow quietly as the visitors passed.

 

Inside, Ukitake greeted them with his usual grace, though his smile didn’t come. Nanao kept quiet, offering only a murmur of greeting before settling beside them at the low table. She wrapped her hands around the warm tea cup, listening to the conversation between two men. 

 

"It was some new hollow. It... merged with Kaien completely." Ukitake said, voice low. "I couldn’t do much."

 

"Merged?" Kyōraku leaned forward. "I’ve never heard of a hollow that could do something like that."

 

Now Nanao listened more closely. She’d never heard of something like that either. There was probably no information in textbooks too. They didn’t do such things. To develop an ability like that… Nanao abruptly put her cup on the table with a loud clunk, almost spilling tea on herself.

 

Both men turned toward her, and she murmured a quiet apology, reaching to adjust her glasses.

 

The conversation resumed and while Nanao listened to it halfheartedly for more valuable information, there wasn’t anything useful. Kaien had to be killed because there was no way for him to return to the previous state. He and a hollow became the one.

 

There was no mistake who stood behind the accident. It was Aizen’s trademark style. But while Nanao was bothered by monsters he was creating, there was a thing that worried her even more. She didn’t know anything about his current experiments and he didn’t require her help anymore.

 

It was good, better than good, she didn’t need more nightmares, but still Nanao couldn’t shake away the sticky feeling of dread and worry. She was left behind, in the dark, only to wonder what Aizen is planning. 

 

"Kuchiki’s taken it hard," Ukitake was saying quietly. "He was close to her. And now... for her to have to do that—"

 

"Don’t take that burden onto yourself, Ukitake," Kyōraku cut in gently. "There was nothing for it."

 

And, of course, he began to accelerate his experiments. The monsters were more and more dangerous. This was not the first time Nanao had heard of strange hollows attacking shinigami. She narrowed her eyes, keeping her gaze at the table. Aizen probably stood somewhere close to monitor its ability. 

 

"...many other officers too." Ukitake sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Kiyone and Sentarō… they’ve hardly left the door all day. They don’t want to trouble me, but I think they don’t know what to do with themselves."

 

Long silence settled in the room and Nanao felt it like pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. 

 

"If your Division needs assistance," Nanao said, voice steady despite the tightness in her chest, "I’d be happy to help with any administrative work. Please don’t hesitate to send it to the office."

 

She didn’t bother asking her Captain for permission, first because he wouldn't mind and second because he never concerned himself with how office work was getting done in their own Division.

 

"That’s very kind of you, Ise-san." Ukitake offered a tired smile. "Thank you."

 

No, it wasn’t. Nanao nodded at him politely. 

 

Somehow, it was harder to meet his eyes now. Nanao wouldn’t call it shame, because she wasn’t ashamed of being cautious and silent even now. No, there was nothing she could have done to prevent the death of Thirteen Division officers.

 

And yet.

 

Sitting between them — between Kyōraku, who trusted her, and Ukitake, who thanked her — and understanding than neither knew that she was Aizen’s mole, was almost unbearable.

 

Thankfully, Captain and she left soon after with Kyōraku promising his friend to visit him again tomorrow. Nanao also repeated her offer to Captain Ukitake, brushing aside his gratitude with a small wave of her hand, trying not to frown. 

 

 

 

 

 

The air outside was fresh with a hint of impending rain and Shunsui breathed in deep. The spring was in full force and everything around them was blooming, rich colours of flowers blending together, juicy green leaves trembling in the breeze. The weather didn’t match his mood.  He exhaled with a sigh.

 

Nanao walked beside him slowly, more morose than usual and she was already unhappy these past weeks about something he didn’t manage to learn yet. Maybe bringing her with him wasn’t such a good idea. Nanao often tried to look like she couldn’t care less about others, but in truth she cared deeply. He had seen how happy she was, training their troops, her eyes sparking when some soldier did something impressive. How she hid small smiles when she’s inventing some petty punishments for more undisciplined soldiers, especially the ones who were drinking on duty. How gentle she was with frightened recruits. 

 

It turned out her softness was not only reserved for the Eight Division members. 

 

"Thank you for offering to help Ukitake, Nanao-chan," he said as they walked the quiet path back to the barracks.

 

"It’s nothing, sir," Nanao answered, not even lifting her head to look at him. Kyōraku noticed how her hand twitched a little on the thin folder she carried. Nanao-chan had a kind heart under the cold and polished demeanor of a model shinigami.

 

"It's not nothing," Kyōraku lifted one corner of his lips in a crooked semblance of a smile. "Kaien carried a lot on his shoulders. Now that he’s gone… the whole division will feel it. Especially Ukitake."

 

At that Nanao did lift her head to look at him briefly, a scowl crossed her face, then vanished so quickly that Shunsui couldn’t be sure he’d actually seen it.

 

"It’ll be hard for them with or without paperwork, won’t it?" he heard her murmur softly, even tiredly. Her shoulders slumped and she lifted a hand to take off her glasses and rub her forehead.

 

Such a rare sight. And even if Shunsui didn’t like seeing her like that, he was grateful she trusted him enough to show it. They had come a long way, hadn’t they?

 

Kyōraku liked to think she considered him a friend now. He certainly did. When she let herself be, Nanao was witty, sharp-tongued, but quietly supportive and with a soft spot for him too. He’d occasionally taken advantage of the later. Kyōraku didn’t feel guilty about it, seeing as it was usually for her benefit too, like when he made her come to the summer festival with other officers a few years ago. 

 

Yes, he liked having a friend like Nanao-chan very much, even if there was a slightly different direction he wanted their relationship to go. But then again, a few decades ago, even friendship had felt impossible. He could be patient.

 

"That’s true," he agreed with her earlier words as they stepped into the office. "But it’s always better to know you’re not alone."

 

Shunsui made his way straight to the sofa, taking off his hat and tossing it carelessly on the floor nearby. He wanted to spend his day elsewhere, probably on some roof, enjoying the warm day, but that was before he heard the news. Now that the spring warmth didn’t hold his attention, he decided to take a nap in the office. It would also be better not to leave Nanao-chan alone when she was like that. It's always better to know you’re not alone.

 

Nanao, it seemed, decided to cope with sadness the only known way for her — by working hard. Too bad there weren't many things to do as it was only the beginning of the month. He watched her from beneath heavy lids: posture straight as always, thin fingers sorting documents. Some of it was settled aside and, judging by the frown on her face, it meant Nanao found the quality of work done by some officers unsatisfactory. Poor souls.

 

Finally, when the office work was sorted, she took a fairly large pile of letters that were addressed specially to her.

 

Shunsui smiled a little at that even if his mood was still down; it was good to know that Nanao listened to his advice. The column was popular, as he’d predicted, and she usually seemed content reading through the responses. It made him glad to see it, even if there were times when Kyōraku was somehow jealous, not because his own novel was unsuccessful, it didn’t bother him in the slightest, but more because how favoured the column was among men.

 

Better not to foster such childish feelings in himself.

 

Outside, the rain began to fall softly and Kyōraku closed his eyes, soothed by white noise and the shuffle of paper, only to open them again when something thumped loudly on the wooden surface of the desk.

 

"Did I wake you up, Captain?" Nanao asked softly. "My apologies."

 

Usually those words didn’t carry much sincerity when spoken by Nanao, especially when he was napping in the office, but today she did sound sorry, looking at him almost guiltily.

 

"That’s fine, Nanao-chan," Shunsui murmured, getting more comfortable on the couch. He leaned his head to look at her, noticing a comically large book on the table. That explained the noise earlier.

 

"Such a big book. What do you need it for, Nanao-chan?"

 

"It’s The Complete Collection of Kido Spells, sir. I thought it might help with the advanced Kido course I’m teaching next week," she answered, distractedly looking at him above her glasses, her not covered eyes more violet than usual. 

 

"I see." He did and that’s why Kyōraku said his next words. "Don’t let Kaien’s death get to you. Things like that happen and it's not something we could always prevent. Even if we want to."

 

A hard truth, but the one every shinigami had to learn.

 

This time, the scowl on her face lingered. It vanished after a few seconds, leaving Nanao looking at him politely and cold, with just the right amount of respect. The expression reminded him starkly of how she used to look at him long ago, when they didn’t really know each other.

 

He shouldn’t be surprised to see it again, but he was. However Shunsui wasn’t surprised by the hurt he felt. 

 

"I understand, sir," Nanao replied evenly, returning her gaze to the book after an appropriate pause.

 

"You don’t agree, sweetheart?" he asked gently, trying to coax her to answer him honestly. The tone was the right one, seeing as Nanao looked at him again, now subsided and soft. 

 

"I believe we must always try hard," she said just as softly, not even trying to correct him for calling her with familiarity. 

 

"And Ukitake didn’t." It wasn’t quite a question, but the inquiry was there.

 

"I didn’t say that," came the quick denial, but now he could see that it bothered her a lot. Maybe even more than the death of Kaien itself. Kyōraku nodded at her words and sat up, leaning heavily against the backrest.

 

“You see… Ukitake believes there are two kinds of battles: the ones to save a life and the ones to preserve honor. That’s why he didn’t help Kaien when his zanpakuto was destroyed.”

 

"Why are we even having this conversation?" Nanao asked, not gently this time, but without the cold politeness either. "It was Captain Ukitake’s decision, one that I have no place to question. And I don’t want to."

 

"We’re having it because I don’t want you blaming yourself if something like this ever happens here. But I do believe the same, we always have to try hard. On the battlefield there is no place for honor," he spoke the last words almost coldly. He respected Ukitake and his beliefs, but his own views on the matter were different.

 

"And you never blame yourself?" she murmured, turning to look out the window. Outside, the rain picked up, drumming steadily against the roof.

 

Shunsui smiled without mirth. That wasn’t a path he wanted for their conversation to go. But it didn’t seem like Nanao was expecting his answer. She glanced at him once, expression sad, almost vulnerable and then lowered her eyes to the book again.

 

"…Honor seems like such a meaningless thing, anyway," he heard her murmur, as if to herself.

Chapter 7: In the dark, I'm right on the middle mark

Summary:

A short interlude before the storm.

"Where have you been, Nanao-chan?"

 

Nanao stopped cold at the sound of Kyōraku’s hoarse voice coming from behind the sofa. He was peeking out, face relaxed, lids heavy as if he’d just woken up. His expression held not a trace of suspicion, but the question was enough to make her pulse hammer in her throat. 

 

"Captain. It’s unusual to see you in the office on a Friday, sir," she retorted after a measured breath, looking at him with feigned incredulity.

 

She’d told Enjoji she’d be out for a few hours — delivering reports, handling minor issues. But her captain probably hadn’t asked him about her whereabouts.

 

"I was looking for Nanao-chan, but to my great surprise she wasn’t in the office," Captain Kyōraku made a disbelieving face too, though his expression was so exaggerated, it was simply ridiculous.

 

"We both seem to be acting out of character today," Nanao murmured with a faint smile, hoping he’d let the matter drop.

 

He smiled back, warm and jubilant, making her heart stumble again — this time not from fear. How troublesome.

 

"So where have you been, Nanao-chan?"

 

Of course he wouldn't drop it.

 

"I was delivering some of our reports from that joint mission last week," she replied reluctantly, carefully neutral. The alibi was solid, but it would have been better not to guide the conversation there. Nanao didn’t want to lie to him now, especially when, if Ichimaru was to be believed, she’d have to do it fairly soon anyway.

 

Maybe she wouldn’t have to lie to him at all, Nanao thought with dry humour.

 

"By yourself?" Now the disbelief on his face looked genuine. Kyōraku sat up and adjusted the haori on his shoulders. "Surely we’ve got enough soldiers to take some papers?"

 

"There were no urgent matters. In fact, there was no work in the office at all." Nanao actually made sure of that, just in case questions like this arose. "So I decided to do it myself."

 

Shunsui grinned and stood.

 

"That’s good. I’ve always said you should get out more. Enjoy some sunlight." He wandered to his desk and picked up a small black rectangle. Nanao watched him silently, even if she already had a guess about what her Captain was up to.

 

"Look what I have here, Nanao-chan." Kyōraku waved the object in the air like a prize, looking pleased.

 

"I wonder what kind of manipulations you used to obtain that from Twelfth," Nanao said, this time suppressing a smile that threatened to appear on her face, because it was more a wry grin than anything else.

 

"You wound me," Shunsui said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Of course, my winning smile and good looks were more than enough."

 

She shook her head but didn’t press further.

 

"So, is this one of the ‘video tapes’ you’ve talked so much about, sir?" She took the flat box from his outstretched hand, turning it over in her fingers. The surface was slightly grained, matte black, with a transparent panel where a thin ribbon coiled inside. A paper label was affixed to the front: Scattered Clouds, 1967.

 

Almost twenty years ago. It had been difficult to obtain new items from the Living World promptly, even for someone with the rank of a captain. For other officers, it was nearly impossible. Not that Nanao had been particularly interested in such things — she’d had other problems.

 

But apparently, this had become her Captain’s new fascination: films from the Living World. As he explained, it was like a theatre performance, except you could watch it multiple times on a screen via the use of video tapes.

 

The concept was simple enough. After all, Nanao had already familiarized herself with the newly installed computer in the library. There were no performances stored on it, just sparse data uploaded by members of the Twelfth Division, useless and dull. The more interesting information, as she discovered, was housed on their own computers in the main laboratory: page upon page of data regarding Urahara’s experiments, the Hōgyoku, and new hollows abilities. Knowledge that she had to gather grain by grain in her own time with such difficulties, now neatly categorized and accessible with only a few keystrokes. If Nanao wasn’t bitter about the absence of some useful information, she would found it almost funny. 

 

"Yes. A single tape holds just one film, but I made a deal for a few others. And I’ve got a player too."

 

Nanao examined the tape in her hand with exaggerated attention, nodding to his words. So that was what this was about. Always the same steps. But she found herself minding it less these days.

 

"Is that so?" she murmured, returning the tape to him.

 

"Mm-hmm. Maybe we could watch it together tonight. What do you think?" Captain Kyōraku asked, his voice low and amused.

 

Nanao lifted her eyes to meet his, noticing a seductive grin on his face, or more what he imagined was a seductive grin. Paired with his half-lidded eyes, it looked laughable, but it affected her more than she wanted. She let her mouth curve into the smallest smile.

 

After the conversation she’d had at the Third Division barracks today, she knew she ought to be burdened with worry and apprehension. But here, in the warm presence of her captain, Nanao found it hard to think about anything else. There would be time to worry later.

 

"And what film have you got, sir?" she asked. She was curious enough about the new technology not to refuse outright.

 

Kyōraku’s grin widened.

 

"About love, of course!"

 

"Of course," Nanao echoed with a solemn expression on her face. She hadn’t expected anything else.

 

"I don’t know the details, I haven’t watched it yet. But I did ask for something romantic," he elaborated.

 

"Do you really think it’s wise to trust Twelfth Division members to choose for you, sir?" Now Nanao was reconsidering her interest. With Twelfth, there was no telling what sort of film it might be.

 

"I’m sure they gave me nothing inappropriate," Kyōraku laughed. "But if Nanao-chan is interested in films like those, I’m sure I could get them too."

 

"Captain," Nanao said, perfectly polite.

 

"Yes, Nanao-chan?"

 

She shook her head, ignoring the question. She got nothing else to say.

 

"It’s all in jest," Kyōraku added, more seriously now, but the playful gleam in his eyes remained. "Unless Nanao-chan’s curious, that’s all."

 

"I'm not," she replied at once. Nanao adjusted her glasses, pushing back the blush rising to her cheeks. She refused to even think on the topic in his presence.

 

"Okay," Kyōraku said, visibly subsided, though his eyes were still laughing. "But the title doesn’t seems bad, don’t you think?"

 

"I guess," Nanao said with a sigh.

 

There was no good reason to refuse, though Nanao searched for one out of habit — some excuse to preserve the professional distance she always insisted on. But now that he was here, looking at her like that, she wanted to spend the evening with him. They don’t have to watch anything if it turns out to be… unsuitable material.

 

"We could watch it tonight, I suppose," she said at last. "You’re right, the title does sound innocent enough."

 

"And if it’s not?" he asked with exaggerated interest.

 

"Then I’ll be leaving." She gave him a flat look.

 

"How cruel. You wouldn’t even stay to shield me from moral ruin?"

 

"That is not within my job description, sir."

 

"But Nanao-chan, isn’t it your job to protect me and assist in all kinds of matters?"

 

"Professional matters, Captain."

 

"Details," he said, waving a hand halfheartedly.

 

Nanao turned away and walked to her desk, ingnoring him. There was still a little time to do something useful. 

 

"Nanao-chan," he called, watching her settle in, "I thought you said there’s no more office work today?"

 

"There isn’t," she said lightly, opening The Complete Collection of Kidō Spells on the bookmarked place. The bakudō she’d read about this morning seemed worth further study.

 

"Then surely we can end the workday early, nee?" Kyōraku leaned on the desk with a hopeful smile.

 

"It means I have a little more time to prepare for my kidō courses, Captain."

 

And not only for those, Nanao thought darkly.

 

"But it’s only an hour till the end," he whined dramatically.

 

"Exactly. I’m sure you’ll find a way to amuse yourself for an hour, sir," Nanao said, looking up at him. She never allowed herself to leave early without a good reason.

 

"Fine," Shunsui muttered after a few seconds, slinking off toward the sofa. "Sixty slow, agonizing minutes…"

 

Nanao watched him go and turned back to the page, focusing on the spell.  

 

 

 

 

The clouds outside were charcoal-grey and gloom, promising rain by nightfall, with only a strip of orange sky burning brightly on the horizon. Nanao absently watched how the breeze stir the chrysanthemums in the garden, enjoying the contrast between the autumn chill creeping through the open fusuma and the golden warmth of the heated room.

 

She sat at the low table in Captain Kyōraku’s house, while he fussed over the strange contraption — the Living World’s film player — that stood on the other table in the room. They had already finished an early dinner of manjū and mochi from the bakery, and now Nanao was feeling warm and content from the meal, quietly sipping tea.

 

"So, how’s the first week going for Tatsufusa-kun?" Kyōraku asked at last, finally dropping his absurd sulking over her refusal to share the last manjū she had already bitten.

 

"Surprisingly well," she said, nodding once.

 

"Well, my Nanao-chan recommended him for the position. That should count for something," Shunsui said good-naturedly as he plugged the player into a new electrical outlet in the wall.

 

Nanao noticed it at once. She hadn’t been here recently, but that outlet was a new addition. Installed just for this, no doubt.

 

"I only proposed him because there wasn’t a better option," she muttered, hearing how her Captain chuckled at that.

 

"He’ll be fine — if he stops practicing swordplay indoors," Kyōraku said, clearly amused by the memory.

 

For some reason Captain Kyōraku was cheered up to no end by the new unfortunate accident with their now Third Seat. It had been absurd, but Enjōji’s performance was otherwise competent. And today, when she returned after her absence, the office had been in order — no small feat in the Eighth Division.

 

Her thoughts drifted. Nanao had been pushing the worry down all afternoon, but now that she thought about the reason why she wasn’t in the barracks this afternoon, the derisive voice of Ichimaru returned to her uninvited. 

 

Good things come to those who wait. 

 

It had been a mistake to go to him. He’d offered nothing but a smirk and a handful of sarcastic remarks. Devil take you.

 

"Here, seems everything’s ready," Kyōraku’s merry voice snapped her back to the presence.

 

Nanao blinked, realizing her tea had gone cold. She’d been thinking about things better left alone. She rose and slid the fusuma shut to keep the warmth in, then moved to sit on the couch beside him.

 

After only a few frames in, she began to understand her Captain’s new fascination with modern things. While some inventions, like the Valentine’s Day he insisted on celebrating every year for the last decade, still baffled her, the film wasn’t bad. Like a play from a book, only much more vivid. It was fascinating to see the Living World in motion: the clothing, the cities, the mannerism of people. She leaned back, watching the unfolding plot with attention.

 

Kyōraku, meanwhile, was disappointed. Only a few minutes in, and already there was a tragedy — and barely a whiff of romance. Not that he expected Nanao to swoon and fall into his arms tonight. Not anymore, even if he hadn’t given up his attempts. Shunsui sighed. Nothing swayed his Nanao-chan. 

 

Nevertheless, he’d been hoping for something lighter, something they might laugh at together.

 

"You were right, Nanao-chan," he muttered, moodily watching the flickering figures on the screen. "It wasn’t wise to trust the Twelfth Division."

 

"It’s clearly not something you would have picked yourself, sir," she replied, deadpan, but Kyōraku saw how her eyes were glinting. She found it amusing. 

 

Shunsui grinned. Maybe the idea wasn’t his worst. They weren’t exactly enjoying the film for its plot, but they were still enjoying the evening.

 

"Maybe there’s something good coming up," he said, without much conviction.

 

"Actually, it isn’t all that bad."

 

"Oh? So you like it?"

 

"I wouldn’t go that far, sir," Nanao replied, perfectly straight-faced.

 

It drew a laugh out of him — not because it was funny, but because she was trying to make him laugh.

 

They kept watching, the scenes dragging on, slow and strangely joyless, and eventually Nanao’s knee bumped lightly into his.

 

He looked over and found her asleep, her arms folded, glasses slightly askew, almost falling sideways over the sofa. Some film this was, Shunsui smiled to himself. Even his patient, meticulous Nanao-chan had given up on it halfway through.

 

He reached for the remote and turned it off. The story had finally begun to resemble something romantic, but he doubted it would have ended well for its characters anyway.

 

Nanao didn’t stir as he leaned over and carefully removed her glasses to stop the metal temples from digging into her head. He’d always wanted to see her without them, but the picture was incomplete with her eyes closed. Still, Kyōraku enjoyed the sight of her like that — relaxed and peaceful, sleeping soundly in his home.

 

She would probably be more comfortable in the bed, he thought. But no matter how appealing the idea was, carrying her there, tucking her in, he didn’t delude himself. The moment she woke up in the unfamiliar surroundings, all his noble intentions would be irrelevant.

 

All the same Kyōraku didn’t have the heart to wake her up — he saw her with circles under her eyes so many times over the years. Nanao-chan suffered from insomnia often, even if she tried hard to hide it under a professional attitude and polite facade.

 

So he fetched a blanket from the drawer instead, soft and thick, and tucked it carefully around her. The evenings were colder now, as winter crept in.

 

Afterwards, he sat back down, kicking his feet up on the table and forcing himself to look away. She wouldn’t like him watching her sleep either.

 

Maybe he’d nap too. Shunsui closed his eyes, listening to the slow rhythm of her breathing and imagining what it would be like to fall asleep to that sound every night. Just the two of them, quiet and close.

 

The thoughts turned naturally toward things he knew he shouldn’t entertain, not with Nanao sleeping softly beside him. He reined them in. It wasn’t guilt that stopped him, because Kyōraku never felt guilty for what he thought, but now was just not the time for it. Instead he allowed himself a simple fantasy of holding her in his arms. 

 

That was when the sound changed.

 

At first, it was so soft he thought he’d imagined it, but then he heard it again — a choked, trembling sound  of someone crying.

 

His eyes snapped open. Nanao was still asleep, her body slack, her head bowed slightly, but her lashes shimmered with tears.

 

He reached for her without thinking.

 

"Nanao-chan."

 

She stirred and her voice came out in a broken murmur: "Capt’n?"

 

She could feel the golden lamplight behind her closed lids, and she knew, logically, that she was safe. It wasn’t real, still the dream clung to her too tightly to shake. The dark void and she alone in the centre, abandoned. Nanao had dreams like that often, usually with Captain Kyōraku in them too — walking away from her, silent and angry, his back turned to her.

 

None of it was real, but the worried pressure of his reiatsu close to her was very much concrete. 

 

Her vision was blurred from tears and Nanao wiped at her eyes hurriedly, trying to clear it, but to no avail. Where were her glasses?

 

"There, Nanao-chan," Kyōraku voice was low and calm, his hand warm on her shoulder. "Everything’s alright. You were just having a nightmare."

 

The touch soothed her slightly, but the blur of his face made it harder to anchor herself.

 

"Captain?" This time her voice trembled.

 

"Here," he murmured and she felt the familiar shape of her glasses pressed into her hand. 

 

Once she slid them on, the world came back into focus. The dark screen. Kyōraku sitting beside her. No one else here. It was dark outside already. 

 

Her heart began to slow.

 

"I’m sorry, sir," she said, ashamed to be seen by him when she was crying. "I fell asleep, didn’t I?"

 

"The film was that bad, huh?" There was a crooked smile on Shunsui's face, but there was no humor in his voice — only worry.

 

Nanao didn’t answer. Her spine had gone rigid, and her hands fidgeted in her lap before she stilled them at will. She couldn’t make herself meet his eyes.

 

"I should go. It’s already late," she didn’t even know what time it was, but it seemed like the right excuse. Polite. Safe.

 

She pushed the blanket from her lap (Captain must have gotten it for her while she was asleep and it added to her embarrassment) and rushed to stand up, only to stop when a hand landed on her shoulder again.

 

"Nanao."

 

The sound of her name without the diminutive actually made her want to run away. Something probably showed on her face, because his hand pulled away, slow and careful.

 

"Nanao-chan," he tried again and the softness of his voice disarmed her. She sank a little deeper into the pillows without meaning to. Her Captain was a master manipulator when he wanted to be, and she recognized the gentleness in his tone for what it was — but still, it worked.

 

"I know you like to handle things on your own," he continued in a lulling murmur, now that she wasn’t running away. "But it doesn’t always have to be like that. You can talk to me."

 

Her stomach twisted. It wasn’t about her waking up in tears. He always noticed that she was hiding things from him — but his questioning usually was indirect. Now when he had a reason to say something, Captain Kyōraku was past being subtle. 

 

She didn’t answer.

 

"You know you can trust me," he said, voice gentle and persuasive. And she wanted to give in, to tell him. It was a mistake Nanao couldn’t allow herself to make. She looked at his face, so open, so kind, and swallowed thickly. How much she just wanted…

 

"I trust you, sir," she said before she could think words through. But she meant them, foolish as it was. "It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just… don’t know what I could say."

 

The moment it left her mouth, she knew it was far too honest. The kind of thing he would hear the hidden meaning of. Stupid. Nanao froze, swallowing hard. 

 

"I understand," he said. Nanao flinched when his fingers grazed her hand, then saw him begin to pull back, the flicker of hurt quickly disappearing from his face. Without thinking, she caught his fingers between her palms.

 

It surprised them both.

 

Nanao thought about letting go, shocked by her own actions, but Captain’s expression lit up, gentle, almost boyish, and all her embarrassment and fear melted away.

 

How much time did she have left like this?

 

"If there’s ever something you need to talk about," he said, squeezing one of her hands with his fingers softly, "you’ll tell me, won’t you, Nanao-chan?"

 

"I will," she said, letting herself look straight into his eyes. The lie made her heart throb painfully, but his rough, calloused hand was warm between hers and Nanao focused on the feeling of it.

 

If she could do just one thing right by him, it would all be worth it.

Notes:

Is there too much romance? Idk. The next ch would be rough.

I spent some time researching - when I was a child DVD disks already were a thing. But the main problem was to choose the film. It should be Japanese and old, so my choices were limited. Unfortunately, I also watched the thing.

Chapter 8: Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?

Summary:

She felt like she was about to jump into the dark abyss, relying only on her reiatsu control and the person remaining above to pull her out.

Something was off.

 

Or rather, everything was suddenly so painfully clear and straightforward that it brought the disturbing feeling that something was out of place. 

 

Nanao thought about it somewhat idly, walking down the deserted street, her sandals rustling softly in otherwise total quiet. The wind picked up, distracting her from her musings, and she quickened her pace, realizing just how slowly she was moving. Better not to make Aizen wait — he was displeased with her already. 

 

The word wasn’t exactly accurate. She winced, remembering how his eyes had been piercing her like needles. It was more than a month ago, but the memory of his new expression — disappointed, with a hint of suspicion — was vivid in her mind due to the nightmares she kept seeing.

 

In the stillness of night, the image almost made her shiver. Almost, because Nanao refused to let the mere memory intimidate her, no matter how terrifying it was. She didn’t want to be that kind of person. Never. 

 

It had been so long since her last report that she had nearly let herself believe he'd forgotten about her altogether. Obviously, the idea was absurd — Aizen never forgot. 

 

But she did. She forgot what it felt like to be on the receiving end of his unnerving stare. All those years of practice, until her hands had been bleeding, of gathering intel, and in the end, she had unwittingly let herself believe in her own illusions. It was no use. In the sunlit, noisy barracks of the Eighth Division, it was hard to remember why she had ever been so afraid of him.

 

Now, as she walked at midnight, skirting patrols, it was easy to see that she belonged right here — in the shadows of dark alleys, among secrets and threats. 

 

But she wouldn’t linger in the shadows much longer. Nanao was smart enough to put the puzzle together. Aizen’s disappointment in her inability to get information about captains’ swords, his last order to study Urahara’s research, this time for a very particular purpose, even Ichimaru’s exceptionally good mood —  all indicated that the time was running out. 

 

Her hand tightened on the papers she was carrying.

 

She fulfilled that last order with great precision —  judging by how serious Aizen was about it, even a small mistake would cost her everything — and now the fruits of her labour were stacked neatly in the brown folder under her arm. Just a few pages. The full information on Urahara’s research on konpaku and anything else worth notice in that area from other sources.

 

Not only that. A few obscure healing kido from old archive textbooks, designed to affect the soul, and one of her own, invented to extract foreign objects from it. At first, she’d hoped Twelfth Division’s data would yield a solution, but to no avail — she spent a whole month creating it (and without field testing, it was hard to say if it would work). Not that she needed to worry about it. Aizen’s orders were never without a purpose. 

 

This time the shiver did run through her.

 

Nevertheless, she briskly passed through the gates to the Fifth Division’s grounds and made her way toward meeting room 3B in the left wing, already sensing Aizen’s familiar reiatsu.

 

He was there, reading something at the broad table in the candlelight.

 

"Good evening, Captain Aizen," she greeted, stepping into the open door without knocking, but remaining at the entrance. The reassuring weight of the folder in her hand kept her voice steady.

 

"Nanao. To you as well," he replied, eyes warm in the glow of the lamp. Whether it was a trick of the light, Nanao couldn’t say. She considered apologizing for making him wait in case it did, but it would show weakness. Instead, she bowed low.

 

"I brought the information you asked for, sir." She stepped forward and handed him the folder, careful not to let their fingers brush.

 

Aizen accepted it without a word, but his mouth curved faintly — because he was pleased by her diligence or amused by her bow, Nanao didn’t know. She was a good liar, a liar above average if you must, but she only hoped it was half as hard for him to read her as it was for her to read him.

 

For a few moments, the only sound was the rustle of turning pages.

 

"Sit, please," Aizen said, not looking up from the folder, and pointed at the other chair in front of the table. 

 

She sat, making an effort to relax. 

 

"Were there any problems with the spell?"

 

"Not exactly," she said, and Aizen’s smile widened. That bastard. He left his dirty work to her, making her pour nearly every waking hour into it and now he was enjoying watching her squirm. "The Twelfth Division research was very helpful."

 

"I expected nothing else."

 

"I wasn’t able to test the spell properly, for obvious reasons," she added carefully. "So it’s difficult to say whether it will work."

 

"It will." Aizen nodded once, with what she thought was approval. He put the papers down and looked at her. "But there’s a chance that we won’t need to test it."

 

Nanao didn’t blink, still watching him with forced neutrality. There was no need for Aizen’s sharpness to see her curiosity, but she didn’t ask. To ask would raise suspicions, or deepen the already existing ones.

 

The silence stretched, his acute gaze burned on her face.

 

Nanao met it with the calm precision of a person who had nothing to fear. She’d done what he asked of her and she’d done it well. The spell was her most complicated work and he knew he couldn’t do any better himself. If she didn’t manage to gather intel on Kyoraku’s sword, it wasn't due to her negligence or irresponsibility. Heaven knows she tried.

 

Still, he didn’t tell her and he hadn’t shown his abilities when they were training and no matter how Nanao tried to get him to, she was thankful. Now, sitting in front of a person who probably could see right through her, she held herself steady.

 

"If the konpaku is going to be destroyed, there’s no need to tamper with it, hmm?" Aizen’s tone was light, his expression softening once more. Whatever he saw in her face settled some of his suspicions.

 

Nanao imagined his demise and the image calmed her more than it should have. When she spoke, her tone was even, but not quite as light as his.

 

"Indeed, sir. But it's an extremely complicated process, so using a spell seemed like a practical choice."

 

"It lacks grandeur," Aizen said, contemplative. "Don’t worry. You’ll see."

 

The smile on his face promised nothing good.

 

"Keep an eye on that captain of yours. If he suspects something…" he continued, looking at her expectantly, even if they already had that conversation. It wasn’t like him to repeat himself.

 

"I’m sure he won’t be a problem for you, Captain," Nanao said, deliberately using a familiar title. The word tasted bitter on her tongue.

 

Aizen looked at her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, but it seemed her words placated him even more. She felt her shoulders slump; she was afraid he would ask her to do what she could never. But Captain Kyoraku knew nothing and he was safe. For now. 

 

Was Nanao happy that he was unaware how much danger they all were in? 

 

She was.

 

If she had to lie to Aizen, the attempt would be so pathetic, he would see right through it. It was better that Captain Kyoraku didn’t know. All the moves had been calculated and the choice had been made.

 

"Captain Aizen," began Nanao. She was supposed to act alongside Ichimaru, but with someone like him, you always needed a backup plan. And for that, Nanao needed intel. "Sir, if I may, does it mean your plan is close to completion?"

 

"Not exactly," he responded, his eyes glinting. The expression reminded her of Captain Kyoraku when he was about to pull some prank. It didn’t suit Aizen at all. "I will be absent for a while. In the meantime, gather what you can on Kyoraku’s and Ukitake’s abilities or any Gotei 13 strategies. Don’t disappoint me, Nanao."

 

His tone made it clear there was no point in arguing. But despite the veiled threat, his request didn’t make any sense to her.

 

"But why gather information about Gotei 13?" Putting her own traitorous tendencies aside, if she was going to spy on the entire Seireitei, she needed to understand the game. "I thought you were already a step away from controlling them, sir."

 

"Controlling them?" he smiled, and it was neither kind nor cruel, just amused. "You think that's my goal, Nanao? To control Gotei 13?"

 

The words disarmed her. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t that. Nanao looked at him, feeling helpless for the first time in many years.

 

"It isn’t?" she managed, once the silence had stretched too long. Now she was sure Aizen enjoyed making a fool out of her; he was smiling condescendingly at her dumbfounded expression.

 

"I have no interest in ruling Seireitei, Nanao," he replied more seriously and his glasses flashed in the light.  "I intend to unmake the sky above it."

 

Aizen was far more insane than she’d thought.

 

 

 

 

 

The ticking of the clock was abnormally loud in the office. 

 

Just like her breathing. 

 

Each inhale and exhale lasted two seconds, and Nanao tried to count minutes by using them as a measure.

 

One, two. Again.

 

The desk in front of her was covered in white — with papers, both recent and overdue. Nanao hadn’t had much time for them lately as she’d been busy with that spell for Aizen.

 

One, two. Again.

 

The memory of her first day in the Eighth Division came to mind: stacks of paperwork, and her new superior officer looking at her in a way that left her terrified and aggravated all at once. She felt the same now, only this time Captain Kyōraku was not at fault.

 

The paperwork can wait for a little while, believe me. It turned out her captain had said something smart for once. 

 

She turned her eyes toward him, sleeping on the floor by the far wall, chest rising and falling steadily. The summer heat was breaking records, forcing him to stay inside, where it was blissfully cool in the mornings. Of course, him breaking his habit of sleeping outside didn’t help her mental state in the slightest.

 

He was smart. It was easy to forget with the way he behaved, but he was a captain of the Gotei 13. Was that enough? Yes, he was older and wiser, with actual battle experience, but the points she was always making were still very much real. 

 

Nanao didn’t feel smart or wise — all her plans revolved around putting her trust in Ichimaru. Which, when she thought about it, was incredibly stupid. He was using her, that’s for sure, but Nanao was using him too, so that was fair. She just wasn’t sure anymore that she could outplay him.

 

Nanao picked a sheet of paper from the nearest pile to give her hands something to do. 

 

Aizen was clearly testing her. The information that he’d given at their last meeting fit together too perfectly and it hadn’t taken her an hour to guess that Kuchiki Rukia’s execution was a part of his plan. But what he was trying to obtain remained unclear  — her spell was highly theoretical. 

 

The irony was brutal. Nanao finally had some answers to her questions and they made everything even more unclear. Just enough information to drive her mad. It was the reason she tried not to dwell on it all. And as for Aizen’s final phrase…

 

If she concentrated hard enough, she could hear how Captain Kyōraku was breathing. The sound anchored her and Nanao found herself following it. Three seconds for inhale, three for exhale. One in between. 

 

Just tell him. It’s time to admit your plan is not the best. He would know what to do. It isn’t about Gotei 13 anymore. 

 

Her zanpakuto was talking to her. A bad sign, really. The words were nothing new, but for him, taciturn to the core, to say them aloud meant things were dire.

 

Tell me something I don’t know.

 

Aizen expected her to remain silent. Maybe it was the true reason why he was so talkative last time. Now Nanao felt even more lost than before. She wondered how much Ichimaru knew. He, too, expected her silence. Somehow all fear had left her, leaving her just drained and irritated by the current state of affairs. 

 

An ally — an actual one — would be nice. 

 

The image was vivid: she was still at the table, the morning peaceful around them. Captain Kyōraku usually sleeps lightly, so she could call him just once. He would wake up and then she could open her mouth again and ruin everything.

 

Would it be that hard? 

 

She felt like she was about to jump into the dark abyss, relying only on her reiatsu control and the person remaining above to pull her out.

 

In reality it was the other way around — she was already on the bottom. And all she had to do was ask for help. But no matter how hard she tried, her lips refused to move. The effort it had been taking was almost painful. A few days ago she was thinking her silence had nothing to do with trust, but Nanao was mistaken. Wouldn’t be the last time.

 

"If you keep looking at me like that, you're gonna make a hole in me, Nanao-chan."

 

The tension quickly evaporated into the greenish morning light. Nanao sat straighter, not even embarrassed this time that he’d caught her staring. It was hard to believe she’d nearly spilled everything moments ago, undone by emotion.

 

"I’m sorry, Captain. I wasn’t exactly looking at you," she replied nonchalantly, not taking her eyes off him for a few more seconds. Looking away too fast would be a novice’s mistake.

 

"You’re not plotting my demise, are you?" Kyōraku continued, turning onto his side. He propped his head on one hand, looking at her keenly. "I don’t remember doing anything recently to deserve it. That stare was scary."

 

If only he knew. Nanao smiled a little at the thought despite the mood she was in. 

 

"I didn’t think you could get scared that easily."

 

"Nanao-chan could be frightening, when she wants to," he murmured. 

 

As if.

 

She wasn’t strong enough to take on Aizen alone. Whether she could even put up a fight was still an open question. The truth was, Nanao bit off more than she could chew when she chose him as her enemy.

 

The urge to tell Captain Kyōraku rose in her again, stronger than before. She barely stopped herself from crumpling the paper in her hands.

 

"Or maybe you were thinking about how handsome your dashing captain is in the morning light?" Kyōraku asked when she didn’t say anything to his last line. She raised her eyes to look at him, noticing his playful expression.

 

Nanao wasn’t sure she could believe it. 

 

"I don’t know where you got that, sir," she sighed, returning her gaze to the paper in her hands. The words blurred together. "Wasn’t my stare frightening? It doesn’t fit together."

 

She didn’t hear his answer. For the first time since her life went downhill Nanao actually didn’t know what to do.

 

Only a few hours later, the sky was burning.

 

 

 

 

 

"Vice-Captain Ise!"

 

"Is that true about Vice-Captain Abarai?"

 

"Do we have to be on duty round-the-clock now?"

 

"Who are we fighting against?"

 

The questions piled up, uncertain and anxious, until the noise blended into the unrecognizable murmur. Nanao, barely holding onto her patience, waited for it to subside. By the end, the officers close to her were looking at her with a mix of worry and guilt. One of the Sixth Seat, a nervous girl with unusual blond hair, even bowed to her hurriedly. 

 

Her mood softened, but she kept her expression stern. Nanao didn’t have time or energy to deal with their unease, not with everything else she had to handle. At least, the crowd that gathered under the office was small, with other soldiers hopefully on duty. 

 

Not that it would help much, she thought sullenly. The intruders were strong and they created chaos in almost geometric progression. The whole invasion held a disturbingly familiar style.

 

"Vice-Captain Abarai was wounded in a fight with one of the invaders. His life isn’t in danger now. Captain Kyōraku expects you to keep guard as usual," Nanao said, contemplating what she should say to the last question. ‘We’re fighting against Captain Aizen’ was such an inappropriate answer. She wondered what would happen if she actually said it out loud. 

 

"Well, what do we have here?"

 

"Captain Kyōraku, sir!"

 

Nanao felt the air shift as he stepped onto the porch behind her, his reiatsu curling slightly around both of them. She moved, giving him more space. 

 

The last of the tension among the troops evaporated, and her mood lifted — though his presence did little to soothe her own anxiety.

 

"I know the situation looks sketchy, but there is no need to worry, everyone," Kyōraku asserted, relaxed and easy-going as ever. 

 

"Sir, do you know who our enemies are?" asked the same man from before. 

 

"If you’re asking about where they come from, sadly, we still don’t know. But they look just like us, with two legs and arms each," he smiled. "So keep your posts, drink water and let your superiors handle the rest. It will all be over pretty soon."

 

The words that their captain would take care of the matter himself, clearly encouraged the crowd. Some soldiers in the back even started to cheer, which of course made Kyōraku preen and grin proudly. Good thing it was male voices — or she’d never hear the end of it.

 

 

 

 

 

The next day Captain Kyōraku, true to his word, had appeared at the barracks with the sunrise. 

 

Nanao couldn’t remember that ever happening before. Sometimes he would be on time, usually on her birthday (obviously to bother her) and sometimes, when he was too drunk to walk, he didn’t leave the office at all. 

Even so, she wasn’t particularly impressed, sparing him only a glance between stamping forms. Despite everything, she’d woken up energetic and alert, and now the backlog was vanishing from her desk faster than sake at the Eight Division’s party.

 

His early arrival was expected, because duty wasn’t an empty word for her Captain. What was strange was the way he looked, more bizarre than usual. 

 

"May I ask what you need this basket for?"

 

"Ah, it’s a secret." 

 

"A secret?" she asked, barely looking up.

 

"Yes, I won’t tell you, because you’ll get mad at me." He smiled softly, hiding the basket's contents from view.

 

She rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling the beginning of the headache. It was only the start of the day.

 

"Whatever, sir."

 

"Have you been here all night?" he asked, at last setting the basket on the floor, and walking closer.

 

"Of course not," she muttered sourly, not liking the look on his face.

 

"I bet you haven't even had breakfast yet. That’s not healthy, Nanao-chan," he intoned, placing the bundle wrapped in a pink cloth onto her desk. 

 

Normally, his habit of bringing her food when he thought she was down annoyed her, but today Nanao couldn’t help but smile a little.

 

It surprised her how light she felt. The morning felt like any other, as though they hadn’t been called to arms and Aizen’s shadow wasn’t stretching ominously over Gotei 13. It shouldn’t have felt like that. But ever since she’d decided to do nothing until the situation clears up, everything became much simpler. 

 

That resolution made it easier to ignore the worry behind Captain Kyōraku’s eyes. He hadn’t asked about the abandoned paperwork. He hadn’t questioned why she stayed late at the office some nights. And if he thought she lied to his question, he didn’t voice his concerns.

 

He was waiting for her to speak on her own — just as she’d promised, and on any other day, that might have made her feel guilty. But not today. Who knew if it was one of the last days she could sit beside him like this.

 

By the time the breakfast was finished, the sun had climbed high. They moved to the second floor and Nanao stood by the window, watching the streets below. The light turned the courtyard dazzlingly white and if she looked at it for too long, her eyes began to water. 

 

"No sign of our guests?" Captain Kyōraku asked from his place behind her. He was sitting on the floor, idly spinning his hat in one hand while chewing a leftover steamed bun.

 

"Not yet," she answered, still watching the courtyard. 

 

Someone already was up and about, walking to the gates and Nanao recognized Enjoji. The man probably decided to meet ryoka on his own, which was commendable, but knowing him, just as useless.

 

Reports from other divisions claimed the intruders were heading toward the center, though not always by the shortest route. Likely, they didn’t know Seireitei well so with any luck, Captain and she could spend a whole day here. 

 

It promised to be a long one. And that was without even considering Captain Kyōraku’s idea with the rose petals.

 

She sighed and glanced at the basket near her feet.

 

A noise from outside drew her gaze back to the window — just in time to see how Enjoji went flying past it. A moment later, a dull thud told her he’d hit the building. A man dressed in strange clothing stood outside, his hand in a black glove steaming. She instinctively reached for her sword. 

 

"My, my. I suppose I’d better get going." From the sound of it, Kyōraku didn’t sound too worried and her tension eased. 

 

"I’d like to remind you that the last time we fixed the eastern wing, it cost us half a quarterly budget," she said, deadpan. It was half a joke, but mostly not.

 

Her Captain laughed. 

 

"Don’t sound so worried, Nanao-chan. I’ll be careful," he winked at her.

 

The battle itself was short. So short, in fact, that Nanao began to wonder if this invasion really was part of Aizen’s plan.

 

The enemy, on second glance, was just a boy — barely old enough not to be called a child. His attacks were powerful, yes, but not on par with a captain-level shinigami. There had to be someone stronger among them, someone who defeated Abarai.

 

She decided not to jump to conclusions right away.

 

Besides, the last attack was impressive, even if she was bitter about the new hole in the barracks. She was already making mental notes for the repairs when a messenger from the Secret Remote Unit appeared.

 

Her heart sank.

 

"What is it?" the words tasted like sand in her mouth and she swallowed compulsively. Whatever it was, it was urgent. And deadly serious.

 

"A message, ma'am. It has been signed both by Captain-Commander Yamamoto and Captain Hitsugaya."

 

The agent paused — and that silence was unbearable.

 

"Speak,” she snapped.

 

"Captain Aizen Souske was found dead last night."

 

How could anyone feel so relieved and so terrified at the same time?

 

Nanao stood, listening carefully. According to the report, Aizen had been murdered, and the killer had not yet been found. In the short period between the last Vice-Captain’s meeting and this morning, Abarai, Hinamori and Izuru had been arrested and managed to escape. 

 

Izuru. Hinamori. Two more of Aizen’s pawns, unaware of their roles. The amount of damage they could cause if manipulated properly… 

 

Nanao dismissed the agent, and briefly closed her eyes, imagining how it would feel if Aizen was truly gone. Today had made that fantasy so real, it hurt.

 

She would need to look concerned when she told Captain Kyōraku. Frightened, maybe. She knew how to steady her voice when she was afraid. But this time, she would have to force it to shake.

 

Her feet didn’t move.

 

He’d been playing with them all. Probably thought he was so clever. A grand chessmaster moving pieces as he pleased. And when the swirl of emotion finally settled, what remained in her was anger — deep and scorching. Had he looked up at the sky one day and decided it belonged to him, simply because no one else stood there?

 

It was absurd. 

 

She leaped from the roof in shunpo, appearing at Captain’s side in one step. 

 

"Urgent message, sir," she said, forcing the words out. Her eyes flicked briefly to the boy lying on the ground. Still breathing. Good. They could question him. Then she could begin making her own plan — without intermediaries.

 

"What happened? Something serious?" He sheathed his swords, tone light despite the words. 

 

Nothing at all. 

 

"Captain Aizen was murdered a few hours ago," she managed to get it out evenly, without spitting the line in his face.

 

Nanao watched as expressions shifted across his face: surprise, then shock, then sadness. Captain Kyōraku was genuinely upset. He turned to look at her, brows drawn together.

 

"Are there any suspects?"

 

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

 

"I see," he sighed heavily, pulling the hat lower on his head. 

 

Something bitter twisted in her chest. She wanted to laugh. If only he knew the truth. What would he say then? How would he look? Would he still be sad — this time because that piece of garbage was actually alive?

 

She should be astonished by her next words. She should. Nanao hadn’t planned to say it, but the words escaped as fast as she opened her mouth.

 

"No need to make that face, Captain. You’d be glad if he really was dead."

 

He looked at her sharply — no sorrow in his eyes now — and the change made it easier to breathe. Now that it was out in the open, Nanao realized: she’d never spoken anything truer.

 

Or more dangerous.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay, I'm super busy. Wanted to post it on Nanao-chan's sweet birthday, but just couldn't(

Do you believe I rewrote the last scene from ch 7 at least 50 times?

The next upd probably in a month, oops.

Chapter 9: From ev’ry depth of good and ill

Summary:

What did one do when truth flowed out faster than lies could staunch it?

She was distantly aware that the world around them still existed. The sun shone from above; the wind whispered across dry, hot streets; treetops barely swaying. As if her reckless words hadn’t changed a thing.

 

Better to savor the illusion while it lasted.

 

The air felt heavy in her lungs. The street shimmered in the heat, and Nanao had a distinct feeling that all of it was happening to someone else. She clenched her hands a few times, not really feeling them. Just a dream — or a nightmare, depending on how one  looked at it.

 

Captain Kyōraku stood in front of her, his eyes sharp and calculating, and for the first time in years she didn’t want to be close to him. A nightmare, then.

 

"Would I?" he asked, and the lack of anger in his voice hurt her heart to a ridiculous degree. "You say curious things, Nanao-chan."

 

Nanao held back a grimace. She’d imagined this moment in great detail, countless times. She’d pictured his stillness, harsh denial, the inevitable heartbreak, but always within the safety of her script. Never like this. Never with Captain Kyōraku looking lost, the truth had yet to reach him. 

 

"Even more curious if you really meant it," he continued, voice dropping lower. His gaze was searching on her face, but not accusing. Yet.

 

She weighed her options carefully, already knowing there was no way to get away with such a loud statement without an explanation. 

 

"I do," she answered simply. A few stray rose petals flew by, mocking her honesty. They caught on the folds of Kyoraku's haori for a moment and promptly disappeared from sight.

 

"I see," Captain Kyōraku murmured, softer than she expected. Of course. Her words must be confusing as hell. "Why don’t we start from the beginning, Nanao-chan?"

 

She let out a small sound, something between a sigh and a snicker. From the beginning… Where should she begin? That night more than a hundred years ago seemed like a good choice. If she wanted Kyōraku to hate her. Did she want to? He would hate her for what she’d done. 

 

She shouldn't have said anything. For a few glorious moments everything had been drowning in a heady feeling of freedom and now… Now was the time to face the consequences of her careless indulgence. 

 

"You can tell me, Nanao-chan. You know that, don’t you?" her captain coaxed, when the silence stretched unbearably. His voice was even, but there was a precision in it, the same she had seen in him before the final blow.

 

"I think you already have a few theories of your own," replied Nanao, clenching her jaw tightly. She tried to ignore the presence of his spiritual pressure, which now was a distinct presence in the air, curling around her in agitated coils. "Isn't that right, Captain?"

 

Abnormal orders from Central 46. The shifting date of execution. Her own strange behavior. She wondered how much of it he was able to piece together. 

 

Kyōraku didn’t answer outright. He tilted his head, just slightly, and Nanao knew he was deciding how much he should share with her. Her lips thinned, but somehow she couldn’t resent him for it. Not when she was the one lying to him.

 

“A few theories, yes. Wild ones, mostly,” he confessed with a smile, and for once, it looked foreign on his face.

 

Well, that answer was expected. Nanao removed her glasses, taking her time to clean the lenses.

 

Maybe it would tip the scales. Not that she had many options now. Aizen’s plan was over her head in more sense than one. As for Ichimaru… let him worm his way out of it however he liked. He never shared his plans with her anyway.

 

She put the glasses back on slowly, subtly taking a measured breath.

 

Her heart was beating frantically now, but there was no way back, no matter how unpredictable the result might be. She looked at her captain, acknowledging how much she was endangering him, the Eighth Division, and the Gotei 13 by her silence, when every second counted. For what? To keep her image of a good person? Out of arrogance that she could overpower Aizen when she didn’t even know what he was planning?

 

She wasn’t ready to see the hatred in his worried, umber eyes. But that was what she deserved, wasn’t it? That’s okay. In that moment, the thought that he might pity or comfort her was far more nauseating. 

 

One had to play the part ’til the end, after all.

 

"And does Aizen's betrayal figure in your wild theories, by any chance?" Nanao finally asked, aiming for nonchalance — and failing. Her voice cracked on the very first word. That’s the kind of spy she was. No wonder she’d done such a poor job of it.

 

Whatever Captain Kyōraku had expected, it clearly wasn’t that. Nanao watched how he tensed, eyes widening at the realization, and felt a ridiculous urge to laugh until she cried.

 

"Well, that explains a great deal," he muttered thoughtfully after a few beats. The temperature around them dropped several degrees and she felt her own reiatsu twitch in response. But when he spoke again, his voice was so concerned, it set her teeth on edge. Nanao expected his anger, but of course her captain was above such things. "Nanao-chan, you need to tell me everything you know. We’ll figure it out together, but only if you’re honest with me."

 

With that, Kyōraku stepped forward, one hand raised, palm down and relaxed, and she recoiled without thinking, surprised by her own action.  It was a move Nanao knew well — it usually meant he was about to put his hand on her shoulder, the only touch she could allow from her tactile captain (or reject, depending on the situation).

 

It had been over a hundred years since she had reacted to his proximity so violently. Back when his curious gaze alone could have frightened her. She didn’t miss that time at all.  

 

"Nanao-chan — " Kyōraku trailed off, clearly stunned. 

 

Or maybe she wasn’t that bad of a spy, Nanao thought humorlessly. His hand remained in the air between them, like a lifeline, and she could be honest with herself enough to admit that she wanted to take it. To pretend that she was his loyal subordinate. To be honest with him.  

 

Only the last part was possible now. 

 

"I thought you abandoned your suspicions about Aizen many years ago," she said, and this time her voice didn’t waver. Small mercies.

 

On a first glance it was such an innocent line. Just an idle observation. Captain Kyōraku stepped away at once.

 

Nanao knew it would be better — kindly even — to look away now. But she had no intention of sparing Kyōraku's feelings, so it was only fair that she wouldn't spare her own either. 

 

"I’m sorry," she said, sounding hollow and uncaring even to her own ears. She couldn’t decide if she meant it or not, the rush of blood making it hard to think clearly. 

 

"What does it mean?" There was an unfamiliar expression on his face, one she hadn’t seen before and couldn’t understand: brows drawn together, mouth set into the harsh line. His eyes, usually warm even in disapproval, dimmed and he withdrew his reiatsu the moment he stepped back.

 

"It means exactly what you think it does, sir." 

 

"I don’t think anything about it. I refuse to think anything about it," he said hotly and Nanao finally understood what that expression meant — he was deeply hurt. 

 

She didn’t allow herself the luxury of thinking about it. Not when he didn’t know half of it. 

 

"A hundred years is a long time, even for Soul Society, isn’t it? More than enough to earn someone’s trust." Suddenly she couldn’t stop and the words flowed easily, without any effort on her part. "It was Aizen who recommended me for the position. Now it's not hard to guess why. And you’ve suspected the reason for it, back then. Or is that not why you've been watching me for months?" 

 

He didn’t answer and the silence rang loudly in her ears.

 

"You should have stuck to your suspicions," she concluded, just to break the quiet. 

 

"I knew Nanao-chan was keeping secrets from me, but it’s hard to believe they’re like this," her captain sighed and his face held a flicker of something almost hopeful, as if he wanted her to undo the meaning of her own words. To tell him it’s not like that. 

 

Her gaze broke from his, falling to the boy sprawled unconscious at their feet. His breathing was steady and Nanao briefly considered the extent of his involvement with Aizen. Time was slipping away, but she couldn’t decide whether it was better to answer Kyōraku or to keep silent.

 

"Aizen recommended you, yes," he prodded again. "But I chose you. So if you’re going to tell me I made a mistake… you need to be clearer."

 

She shook her head, a small, tired movement. The conversation was already off the rails, refusing to follow the neat script she had prepared. "It doesn’t matter." 

 

Kyōraku’s eyes searched her face for a long moment, and then he nodded slowly. 

 

"I think it’s what matters the most," he said, voice low. "Because if I were truly mistaken about you… you wouldn’t be telling me any of this."

 

In dreams, in fact, it’s customary to not be surprised by anything. So Nanao didn’t act surprised, her face arranged in the same practiced neutrality, even as something deep in her chest caught and ached. It was dangerously close to what she wanted to hear from him, and she had to swallow hard before she could make herself speak.

 

"That wasn’t part of the plan," she admitted reluctantly. At least she didn’t plan to tell him like this and that was the problem with all of her schemes. There had been no graceful exit. No way to measure betrayal in units that made sense. What did one do when truth flowed out faster than lies could staunch it? 

 

Nanao wanted to know the answer to that question, desperately. 

 

"So what was the plan, Nanao-chan? Were you going to betray Gotei 13 and disappear, leaving me to sort through the pieces?" her captain asked at last and there was only idle curiosity in his voice, as if they were having an ordinary conversation. "Because I can’t believe it, since you’re still standing here."

 

"It’s not as simple as you say," she managed out, shaking her head again. Her lips curled upward slightly, but it would be a stretch to call it a smile. "And it’s not as noble as you’d obviously like it to be." 

 

"Let’s make it simple, then," he offered quietly — firmly. "It’s not too late to pick a side. So tell me, which one would it be?"

 

It was an offer, one of many her captain made since the truth came out, but this time it felt different. A demand of sorts. An order to obey, highlighted by the feeling of his spiritual pressure that was around them again, unyielding and oppressive. It left her no room to hide behind either truth or lies and Nanao was grateful for that, in a strange and bitter way.

 

She’d told herself it would be okay if Captain Kyōraku hated her. She’d prepared for that development. But there was no need to make herself seem worse than she truly was. And now that there was a chance to have his trust again, Nanao couldn’t pretend she didn’t want it, no matter how futile that desire felt. 

 

It was an order from her captain. And since she still wore the vice-captain’s badge — since she still wanted to keep it, somehow — she stepped forward, inclining her head in a short bow.

 

"Sir." The single word was clear and strong; an answer more than anything else she could offer. 

 

"See, Nanao-chan? Simple." He smiled at her and relief softened his voice, though his eyes remained sharp and watchful.

 

The wind ruffled her bangs and Nanao felt her shoulders ease despite herself. It did feel simple, but the Captain's ultimatum wasn’t that difficult to answer. She chose her side long ago and it wasn’t Aizen’s, never Aizen’s. 

 

The hardest part was still ahead. 

 

"Here is what we will do next, Nanao-chan," Kyōraku said, as if reading her last thought. "You will tell me everything. Just the complete truth, start to finish. Not just the parts you want me to hear."

 

The captain looked at her expectantly, and while it sounded more like a request, Nanao didn’t miss the way he made an emphasis on the last part. She licked her chapped lips, knowing there was only one answer, no matter how terrible the truth might be.

 

She knew this wouldn't end well for her, didn't she?

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Good," he said lightly, perhaps hearing the truth in her words. Perhaps. Nanao herself wasn’t sure she didn’t lie. "I would like to believe that it will be enough, but there are special circumstances, yes?"

 

Special circumstances. That was putting it mildly. Nanao frowned. Kyōraku’s easygoing demeanor didn’t change, but she had a feeling she might not like what he was going to say next.

 

"And while I want to trust you, we're past the point where words alone can keep us safe," he said gently. For just a breath, the easy warmth in his expression faltered, and she caught the shadow of hurt before he smoothed it away. "That’s why I need you to work with me now. I need you to give up your sword." 

 

Her hand automatically reached for her zanpakutō, fingers curling around the hilt for the first time since their conversation began and Kyōraku’s reiatsu shifted again, pressing around them like an invisible force. Nanao wondered if this was a deliberate act on his part — so unlike him to intimidate anyone, intentionally or not. But then, it wasn’t like him to give direct orders either… and here he was, issuing a second in a row.

 

Most of her wanted to yield, to take the only path forward. The other, smaller part, the one who refused to be cowed by anyone, wanted to resist. And deeper still, where her defiance and obedience met, something twisted at the sight of hurt in his eyes.

 

"That’s the condition of my trust, Nanao-chan. I’m offering it. But I need you to trust me back," he said, catching her hesitation.

 

If Nanao had been watching from the sidelines, she would have said that she got off easy. By all means, she should be on her way to prison, to be interrogated and charged with treason. And it’s not that Captain Kyōraku couldn't make her, of course he could. Most likely he wouldn’t even have to apply physical force — she would need to take extreme measures to get away from him if he truly wanted to stop her. 

 

No, she couldn’t allow herself to fight him. Not when tomorrow morning Aizen would be miraculously revived, throwing a parade on Sokyoku Hill. But for this very reason it was so hard to obey. 

 

If you give me up now, there is a fair chance you won’t get me back by tomorrow.

 

"Well, it’s not that I have a choice now," she murmured bitterly, answering both of them. If she refused now, it would be evidence enough of her intentions. 

 

"That’s not true, Nanao-chan. Maybe not an easy choice, but it’s still yours to make," Kyōraku objected, smiling ruefully from beneath the brim of his straw hat. "I’m just hoping you'll choose the right thing."

 

"I’m hoping for that too," she answered, realizing the truth of those words. 

 

Her fingers closed around the scabbard of Hikari Utsushi, the motion hesitant. She pulled it out of her sleeve slowly, carefully placing the weapon in his waiting hand. His reiatsu settled against her own almost reassuringly in response and Nanao didn’t try to push him away, not even caring about how he might interpret it.

 

It felt like surrender, no matter what she told herself. Yet Nanao knew that tomorrow she would face Aizen, armed or not — and the thought loomed over her like a shadow.

Notes:

This chapter was a nightmare. That's officially. There is no romance, no action, just a long, painful conversation between the characters. Which took me years to write! I both love and hate the result.

I've already mentioned that the story's idea is from some unfinished fic, so I wanted to follow the script and make Nanao's betrayal revealed against her will. Then one of my readers left a comment with a line like: "I wish Nanao would finally tell him everything." And I understood that I want it too. And now we got what we got :)

The title is from the poem "Alone" by Edgar Allan Poe, new chapter within a month, and thanks y'all for reading. It's because of you this chapter exists!