Simping For Days

The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war. - Euphues and His England, the Plays Quotes | John Lyly

Shunsui never thought he’d live to see the day where he’d be happily humming to himself whilst running errands for his favourite lieutenant. He was extremely biased, of course, because Nanao was his only and favourite niece. Perhaps it was a sign that he was making peace with the burden of responsibility, something he loathed since childhood.

Or perhaps he was just eager to see Azumi.

The healer had been on his mind ever since she worked wonders on his eye two weeks ago. Prior to the house call, sleep for him was restless at best, which only worsened when his eye started to cause trouble. She mentioned casting a separate kaido to help him sleep after the treatment. Its long-term effects were fascinating—he had been sleeping straight through the night since her treatment.

Then he remembered that Azumi wielded Owarinai Yume—Unending Dream. He wanted to learn everything about the zanpakuto from its lovely owner, but the past two weeks had been dedicated to helping his lieutenants with the final details of the tournament. Nanao’s gaze was more vigilant than usual, so he couldn’t find the time to visit the Fourth.

Shunsui chuckled, quite pleased with himself for coming up with the idea to give his lieutenants the day off. While they were on a long-overdue break, he would take the opportunity to visit his new favourite healer. Nanao’s list wasn’t terribly complicated; the tasks just needed the weight that came with his position.

The second most difficult task proved to be convincing Captain Kurotsuchi that he couldn’t dissect the losers’ bodies after the tournament. Luckily, he seemed to be placated with an offer of more funding for future research projects. And the most difficult task came in the form of Kenpachi, who rudely turned away the relief unit assigned to his squad for the tournament. The Eleventh’s captain reasoned that if he wasn’t going to use healers during his matches, his division wouldn’t use them either.

But the man was in a better mood when Shunsui entered the barracks. After a half hour of negotiating, they came to an agreement. Kenpachi would allow the use of healers during the tournament if Shunsui agreed to fight with him for one round. The entirety of division eleven heaved a collective sigh of relief when he agreed to Kenpachi’s terms.

The agreement, thought reluctantly made, actually gave Shunsui a proper excuse to see Azumi. The battle-hungry Kenpachi would give no quarter in their one-round bout, and there was no doubt in his mind that one round would be fought to the death if Kenpachi had his way. He would feel infinitely safer if Azumi was on standby in case the fight went astray.

Yes, he was being selfish with this request, but the void that held the anguish of his losses seemed to hurt less when she was nearby. He always left feeling more joyful every time he visited her at the Fourth—something he considered a coincidence until recently.

And Azumi was hurting.

The despair Shunsui felt in her reiryoku was all-too familiar. He was also familiar with trying to find any way to keep yourself busy so the darkness in your heart wouldn’t fester into an overwhelming void. Being a healer naturally meant that others’ needs were always considered before your own, but he could tell that she was starting to give away far too much of herself.

There was great danger on Azumi’s current path. He encountered it when Shunzan and Isuzu died, but fortunately Juu and his inner circle were there to help him through the worst of it. He hoped to help her in a similar fashion, as she had done so two weeks ago. Confronting loss was painful and exhausting, but running away from it constantly would only make the void worse.

Shunsui nodded politely to several souls who smiled as they passed him. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself today, so he was without his signature pink kimono, captain’s haori, and sugekasa. He even added additional guards on his reikyoku to prevent scaring off the normal citizens. But even dressed in just the shihakusho, he felt the weight of curious stares because of his considerable height.

Some things just can’t be helped.

He was currently in the Eighth District of the South Rukongai, with each step taking him closer to Azumi and her new medical clinic. A quick sweep of the area revealed the enticingly familiar warmth of her reiryoku was less than ten minutes away from his position. Isane-chan was reluctant to tell him where Azumi was when he asked earlier, as she requested not be disturbed due to the nature of the clinic.

The healer, along with members of her best relief team, would be assisting souls with any questions they had about being new parents. Apparently, spots for the clinic were filled almost immediately after it was announced in the district. Two more clinics were scheduled to prevent a mini-riot from starting.

Shunsui was not a boastful man, but he did take pride in knowing that his anonymous donations helped Azumi to start her first clinics. They weren’t popular among the upper circles of the Seireitei at the beginning, but he advocated for the healer whenever he unfortunately found himself in their company. He was aristocracy because of his family name, but his first missions as a shinigami quickly showed him that life was too precious to be spent judging others for circumstances outside their control.

Through stubborn dedication, Azumi’s clinics attracted more and more volunteers from the Fourth Division. It gave them a renewed purpose as healers, along with the chance to exercise compassion for those living in the Rukongai. The way other divisions spoke of the Fourth began to shift as well, where they weren’t ridiculed because their skills as shinigami didn’t focus on combat.

Shunsui sighed again and wondered how Yama-jii constantly handled situations like this with such ease. It was a tricky thing, because he had to find a balance between keeping the people happy, but also not letting the people have their way all the time. Thankfully, his long years of experience were proving to be useful. Patience was a skill of which he had in abundance.

And he exercised patience now, because Nanao and Isane had been following him ever since he entered the district. They were doing their best to conceal themselves by staying just outside of his range, but it wasn’t hard for him to identify their reiryoku. Though, he was was definitely curious as to why they were following him at all. He would have to surprise them later—it would test their skills and also serve as a reminder to leave their Soutaicho in peace every now and then.

As Azumi’s presence became stronger, so did the unmistakable din of children laughing and playing without reserve. Shunsui eventually found himself standing in the doorway of a carefully-maintained boarding house, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t even considered how he would announce himself. She was busy helping the clinic’s attendees, and he didn’t want to disturb her so he didn’t send notice ahead of time—

“Ojisan, are you lost??”

Shunsui looked down when he felt a pair of small hands tug insistently at his hakama. A little girl no more than five, with dark brown hair and tawny-coloured eyes, stared up at him with wonder. There was no way he could be irritated for being addressed as ojisan, because the lopsided smile she gave him was infectious.

“I’m looking for a friend,” he chuckled, kneeling down until she was eye-level with him. “She’s helping a lot of people here today.”

“What does she look like?”

Shunsui grinned. “She has black hair, and she wears it like this—” he quickly demonstrated with his own hair by putting it in a makeshift bun. “And she’s wearing the same uniform as me.”

The girl’s frow furrowed deep in concentration at the newly presented information. He barely held his laughter in because it looked like she was trying to find the answer for a complex geopolitical issue. Several moments later, her eyes widened as she jumped excitedly. “That’s Zumi-neechan!!”

Before Shunsui could reply, she wrapped a tiny hand around his thumb and dragged him through boarding house doors. He was, naturally, powerless to resist her determined efforts. She pulled him expertly through the busy ground floor, taking care to avoid running into people, until they rounded the corner at the end of a hall.

The room she brought him to was a decent size and sparsely decorated, but it was filled with several groups of people, including members of Azumi’s relief team— 

“Zumi-neechan! Ojisan wants to talk to you!”

It was a good thing that Shunsui wasn’t easily embarrassed, because his little guide had announced their arrival in the loudest voice she could manage. Several chuckles came from the relief members, along with growing rumbles of recognition from the clinic’s attendees at the Soutaicho’s unexpected appearance.

His guide, uncaring of the reactions around her, swiftly pulled him over to a bemused Azumi. The woman she had been speaking to was heavily pregnant and doing a terrible job of trying not to laugh at the situation.

“Ojisan looked lost outside!” the little girl said eagerly, finally letting go of his hand. “Kaa-chan said if someone looks lost, I should help them.”

“She was right.” Azumi’s eyes sparkled with mirth as she bent down and kissed the top of the little girl’s head. “Miwa-chan, thank you for helping my friend.”

Miwa-chan smiled broadly, satisfied at a job well done. Before she could say goodbye, a woman who was undoubtedly the little girl’s mother rushed to her side and bowed repeatedly. “Soutaicho, please accept my deepest apologies. I take full responsibility for my daughter’s behaviour—”

Shunsui gently waved the apology away, to the surprise of the flustered woman. “I wouldn’t have made it here without Miwa-chan.” He winked playfully at the little girl, who giggled. “She helped me with a very important mission.”

“Let’s speak outside,” Azumi offered, gesturing for him to follow her to the doors on the other side of the room.

Multiple sets of curious eyes followed them until they exited, at which point he exhaled, grateful for the reprive. This unscheduled visit was sure to make its rounds among the fourth division’s rumour mill by the end of the day.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he observed, pushing the pesky musings from his mind. “I expected a reprimand from you by now.”

Azumi stifled her laugh with a well-timed cough. “Well, it’s been a very busy morning for me…ojisan.”

“I couldn’t find the heart to be mad at her,” Shunsui professed with a groan. “She’s too adorable for her own good.”

“Isn’t Miwa-chan the sweetest?” Azumi gushed as she lead them to the outside quiet of the building’s alley.

“She reminds me of myself when I was younger, actually.”

“I’m sure Sawamura has many stories to support that claim.” The healer teased, standing a respectable distance away from him.

Now, that woudn’t do. Shunsui moved closer, but was careful not to crowd her. She raised a questioning brow and decided to stand firm. “Ask at your own risk. You’ll be stuck listening to him for a whole day.”

When Azumi beamed at him, he once again could do nothing except smile broadly in return. That dimple in her left cheek was terribly appealing. Over the past two weeks, he found himself wondering how she was still unmarried. A woman of her rank, in addition to her skills as a shinigami, was sure to attract many suitors. And her kindness was a quality that would make any respectable husband proud.

Shunsui’s appreciation for her beauty deepened since the house call. He took careful note of the strong, but graceful brows that topped her almond-shaped eyes—eyes whose colour shifted from molten honey to dark amber if the light was just right—the soft, downward slope of her nose, and fullness of her bottom lip, further accented by an elegant cupid’s bow. He longed to see her ink-black hair free from its confines. But at least the bun allowed him to admire her features unimpeded.

The men who courted Azumi were fools, or she had high standards. Both could be true, but he suspected the latter was more fitting of her personality. She wasn’t the type of woman who suffered the company of fools for any length of time, present company excluded.

“That sounds like a perfect day to me—tea, food, and endless gossip.”

Luckily, Shunsui was still coherent enough to flash her his most charming smile. “That can be arranged.”

Azumi’s eyes widened at the suggestion, but she hurriedly opted for the safety of professionalism. “Now…to what do I owe the honour of a visit from the Soutaicho himself? I would’ve made time for you had I known you were coming.”

“I didn’t want to disturb your clinic,” Shunsui shugged his shoulders at the underlying admonishment in her voice. “Though, my best intentions stood no chance against a precocious five-year-old.”

“Not much can withstand that, I’m afraid.”

The request was official, but he hoped that she agreed because he was coming to her as a friend. “I find myself in need of your skills again.”

Azumi crossed her arms. Narrowed eyes and an impatient tapping of her right index finger indicated another potential reprimand. “What sort of trouble did you get yourself into this time?”

“Why does everyone assume that I’m the source of trouble?” He lamented, only half-feigning offence. “Is it so hard to believe that trouble usually finds me?”

The healer pursed her lips to hold in yet another laugh. “My apologies, Soutaicho. How can I be of assistance?”

“Captain Zaraki challenged me to a one-round fight during the tournament.” Azumi’s brows raised at the explanation. “I would feel much safer knowing you were in charge of my triage tent.”

“But Captain Kotetsu—”

“I’ll be asking her to attend to Captain Zaraki,” he offered softly when she nibbled her bottom lip in hesitation. “She’s more familiar with his…unpredictable temperament. But she’s fully confident in your abilities. As am I.”

Appreciation flickered in Azumi’s eyes at his praise, but traces of uncertainty were still present in their depths. While manipulation wasn’t the most fair tactic to use in this situation, Shunsui wasn’t about to let Azumi come up with even a halfway decent reason to reject him. In the voice which even Nanao found hard to deny he murmured, “What if my eye starts hurting during the fight?”

“Shunsui.”

He smirked, knowing the familiar use of his name paired with the warning tone in her voice was a sign the conversation was swaying in his favour. “I think it’s a very fair question.”

“Surely you wouldn’t be that careless.” Azumi chided as she dragged a hand down the side of her face.

“Well, I wouldn’t.” He replied innocently. Her eyes narrowed again, this time in grudging admiration. “But I can’t say the same for Captain Zaraki. The only way to know for sure is if you’re present during our fight.”

Shunsui held his breath for several agonizing moments while Azumi considered the request. Because he presented the possibility that of one of her patients could experience extreme duress, the window of rejection was all but closed. If she was in the position to help, she would do so without question.

Finally, she shook her head at his stubborness and smiled. “How can I say no to a good friend?”

“I knew you’d come around.” Shunsui’s heart leap several times in his chest before he convinced it to calm down.

“Will you two be the opening match of the tournament?”

Now that was an excellent question. Kenpachi wasn’t a patient man, so perhaps it would be good for them to start the tournament with, quite literally, a bang. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“It would be fitting for the tournament’s fifth anniversary.” Azumi nodded curtly before her lips curved in a knowing smile. “And everyone knows that Captain Zaraki has wanted to fight you since the end of the first tournament. The people will be very excited to finally see it happen.”

Shunsui sighed and crossed his arms. “What you actually mean is that the people will be excited for Kenpachi to potentially unleash Yachiru Nozarashi on me.”

“You give yourself no credit, Soutaicho.” The healer’s tone was sharp, which mirrored the look she gave him. “If Captain Zaraki considers using his bankai, that means you’ve pushed him to his limit.”

The use of bankai wasn’t allowed during the tournament until the final three rounds, and even then, the finalists were urged to exercise great discretion. Kenpachi hadn’t used his bankai during the previous tournaments, only because the situation hadn’t called for it. Shunsui wouldn’t make things easy for him, but he’d be careful to not put either of them—and the spectators—in a tricky situation. While Azumi was indeed correct, he pouted at her for using his formal title.

“Shunsui,” she corrected with a chuckle. “Everyone will be very excited to watch you as well. This tournament wouldn’t exist without you. And to know the Gotei are united in honing their skills as protectors—it gives everyone hope.”

“That was always my intent,” he replied softly. It felt good to hear that the people understood what he was trying to accomplish. “We’ve already lost so much. I can’t undo past mistakes, but I’ll do everything I can to protect our future.”

Azumi’s breath hitched at his quiet declaration. “The people don’t know how lucky they are to have you as Captain-Commander,” she murmured, and stunned him by reaching out and brushing her fingers along his jaw.

The heat from her hand seeped deliciously into his skin, and he quickly covered her hand with his, worried that she would pull away. His eyes fluttered closed when she rubbed her thumb over and over across his cheek. “And you?”

“Me?” She asked breathlessly as he nuzzled his jaw against her hand like a touch-starved stray kitten.

“Will you be excited to watch your Soutaicho fight for his life?” Thank the gods he was right about their mutual attraction, because he could see himself becoming addicted to the feeling of her skin against his.

“Only if you promise not to attack me this time,” Azumi scolded, but there was no real bite in her tone. “Owarinai Yume wasn’t happy that I let my guard down during your kata.”

“Oh?” He quirked a brow and placed several deliberate kisses in the palm of her hand. “Were you distracted by something?” Vaguely, he remembered shedding his shitage and kosode before becoming lost in his katas—the pain in his eye became so intense that he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. He complained endlessly while he was at the academy about the amount of physical training required to be a shinigami, but there was no arguing with the results all that training had on his body. And it seemed that Azumi had no arguments about those results either.

“I was simply distracted by your flawless technique,” she insisted, unsuccessfully trying to hide the shivers that raced along her arm with each kiss.

Shunsui grinned and released her hand, taking note of how the tops of her ears had turned bright pink from his actions. “I’ll do my best to keep my clothes on during the match.”

“How considerate of you.”

A MASSIVE thank you to my dear friend Nyssa, who gifted this incredible fanart of Shuzumi for my birthday a few weeks ago. She's SOOOOO incredibly talented and just starting her tattoo journey; please check her out here! 😍💖

God not only plays dice. He sometimes throws the dice where they cannot be seen. - Stephen Hawking | Does God Play Dice?

It was a universally known fact that Ryotei served the best sake in the Seireitei. And if you were truly fortunate, sake brought straight from the Kuchiki cellars would be available the night you decided to go out drinking.

Ise Nanao hoped it was one of those lucky nights for her.

The last month had been ridiculously busy, as she was overseeing the final details regarding the yearly joint training exercises for the Gotei 13. It was the Soutaicho’s brainchild, one that he proposed shortly after the defeat of the Quincy King--Yhwach. While the divisions did a fine job of training their respective members throughout the year, the Soutaicho determined those skills could be further honed through friendly competition.

The exercises grew so popular in fact, that its unofficial and affectionate name among the Gotei was, ‘The Tournament of Death’.

And what would a tournament be without prizes? Extra funds were given to all the divisions for their overall parcipitation, but everyone vied for the prizes awarded to the shinigami who finished top ten in the knockout rounds. Those prizes included free food and sake at Ryotei, training sessions with the captains, and monthly use of the Fourth’s specialized recovery services for a year. However, this year’s most coveted prize was a month-long vacation to Gunma Prefecture, in the World of the Living. Kusatsu Onsen and Gunma’s natural landscape were a motivating prize for any tired shinigami.

Unsurprisingly, Captain Kenpachi Zaraki was the reigning champion, a title he held since the tournament’s first year. And true to Kenpachi’s name, he ignored the grand prize and instead challenged the Soutaicho to a one-on-one fight every year to see who was the strongest shinigami in the Soul Society. And the sake of everyone in the Soul Society—but mostly for his own safety—the Soutaicho had been successful in dissuading Kenpachi from following through with his idea.

Most of the tournament’s planning fell to the First Division, which meant a healthy amount of stress for the First's co-lieutenants. Thankfully, Nanao and Okikiba quite enjoyed the process, despite the added duties and occasional sleepless nights. And the true reason behind the exercises kept everyone heavily motivated. With the near-destruction of the Three Worlds almost five years past, the Soutaicho made a promise to himself and the souls under his care that the Gotei would be prepared to face another calamity like Yhawach.

The chances of another Yhawach threatening the balance of the worlds was miniscule, but the Soutaicho wasn’t eager to repeat the same mistakes of his former sensei. Long years of peace and obstinate rigidity brought so much destruction to the worlds, and the tournament was one of the many ways he was working to undo the mistakes of solely following tradition. Though, he gave most of the credit to Kurosaki Ichigo, who’s appearance shifted the fabric of Soul Society. But Kyoraku Shunsui was the best candidate to continue pushing that shift, as he never really fit the mold of a model shinigami.

Nanao was more than happy be a part of executing her uncle’s vision for a better Soul Society. It was the least she could do to thank him for protecting her throughout the years. He was a good man, and she was honoured to be his kin. But that duty took a lot out of her today, so she sent another silent prayer to the gods that the elusive Kuchiki sake was on tap when she entered Ryotei.

The restaurant’s warm yellow lanterns were a welcome sight to Nanao's strained eyes, and the throbbing sensation across the back of her head began to ease as she was escorted to an empty table. Ryotei was also famous for its live music, and Nanao found herself humming along with the shamisen player at the front of the restaurant. At this point, she’d settle for any cup of sake and a hot plate of—

“Nanao-chan!!”

Irritation creased the tired lieutenant’s brow at the familiar use of her name, but a smile quickly shaped her lips when she saw Kotetsu Isane beckoning her over to a more private table near the back of the restaurant. Running into a good friend was always a good way to forget a hard day at work. And Nanao knew she’d be out for longer than planned when Isane poured her a cup of sake from a bottle stamped with the Kuchiki emblem.

“Enjoying yourself, Isane-chan?”

“Immensely. I was hoping they’d serve the Kuchiki sake tonight.” The Fourth’s captain gave her friend a toothy smile when she saw her signal the waiter to bring another bottle of the famous brew. “Are you planning on keeping me company?”

Nanao nods, then steadily downs the first cup of sake. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten anywhere close to drunk. Besides, drinking with you is fun.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Isane laughed while pouring two more cups. “Cheers to a good night.”

While the sake flows and hot plates of gyoza and takoyaki are devoured, the two women catch up with each other as only good friends could. It seems like no time had passed since their last extended conversation a couple months ago, before planning for the tournament became a priority.

Isane thrived under the mantle of Captain, and greatly enjoyed it even with the added responsibility of caring for an entire division. Nanao half-heartedly complained of her mostly self-imposed workload, but added that sharing the role of co-lieutenant with Okikiba made her life so much easier. While her uncle had become more responsible since accepting the role of Soutaicho, it was only just. At least now she had someone who truly understood the complications that came with trying to keep up with his infamous wandering spirit.

“So, does our Soutaicho even do any paperwork nowadays?” Isane hid her laugh behind a mouthful of ramen when Nanao rolled her eyes.

“I finally got him to come to the barracks twice a week,” Nanao sighed with exasperation. “Even then, he still tries to sneak off when I’m not looking.”

“Can’t say I blame him. It’s hard not to fall asleep when I’m doing my reports.” Isane smiled in contentment while she rested her hands behind her head. “But how is our Soutaicho doing? It’s hard enough being the Captain of one squad—I can’t imagine overseeing thirteen.”

Nanao has never been the type to contribute to the rumour mill, but the Kuchiki sake brought the thoughts she held close to her chest straight to the tip of her tongue. “He’s…tired. And he’ll never tell me that because he knows I’ll worry.” She twirled the cup in her hand gently, hoping to ease the anxious energy crawling up her spine. “But I’ll always be worried about him.”

The worry in Nanao’s voice began to cut through the haze of intoxication that pleasantly clouded Isane’s vision. It was rare for her to be this concerned about the Soutaicho. Isane reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand in assurance. “Don’t worry. The Soutaicho’s concerns are safe with me.”

The First’s lieutenant smiled softly. She knew Isane-chan would never say or do anything to compromise their Soutaicho’s reputation. “I suppose tired isn’t the right word. If anything, he’s…sad. He carries his own losses and those of the divisions.”

The lingering clouds of intoxication in Isane’s mind disappeared on her next breath. There had been so much loss on all sides of the war, and trying to pick up the pieces of an old life was a delicate, lengthy process. The most unfair aspect of loss was that it affected everyone differently. There was no timeline for grief, even for shinigami. This was the most difficult aspect of Isane’s role as a Captain, especially since her division’s primary role was healing. But she know all too well that an easy fix wasn't possible for some wounds.

They simply ran too deep.

“I…have the same worries for my fourth seat.”

Nanao’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Konishi-san?”

“Yes,” Isane murmured, rubbing the beginnings of a headache from between her eyes. “Her older twin brothers died during the war. She hides her sorrow well, but that sorrow settles a little deeper in her heart with each passing month.”

Nanao opens her mouth to respond, but then pauses. She’s unsure of what to say, as she herself hasn’t been successful in bringing the more carefree aspects of the Soutaicho’s personality back to the light.

“Azumi-chan buries herself in work,” Isane continues, concern causing her voice to waver. “It’s hard for me not to intervene, because grief is different for everyone.

“Even after grief has run its course, you’re still left with the fragments of the whole you use to be.”

Daunting silence settled between the two women for long moments. For all their talent and strength, they felt powerless to help the people close to them work through burdens sitting heavy on their shoulders. But Nanao was also never one to let apathy crowd her thoughts for long. As she stared at the pristine sake cup in her hand for answers, the spark of a ridiculous idea began to tickle the edges of her mind.

“…How well do the Soutaicho and Konishi-san know each other?”

“They get along very well professionally.” Isane hiccuped before her brow creased in deep concentration. “When Azumi-chan was a nurse, she was the only one who didn’t run away from the Soutaicho when he dropped by for a visit.”

Nanao poured herself another cup of sake and nodded firmly. “Good.”

The Fourth’s captain smile threatened to split her face in two when she finally caught onto Nanao’s idea. “Azumi-chan also used to help prepare Captain Ukitake’s medications. Actually, Unohana trusted her to mix his medications when she wasn’t able to.”

Nanao nodded twice this time, and with aggression. “Why hasn’t she moved up in the Fourth? I hear that her skills and knowledge are rivalling yours.”

“She enjoys the freedom of being fourth seat,” Isane chuckled. “And she runs a travelling clinic in the districts twice a month. Most of her subordinates volunteer at her clinics as well.”

It was a rare for souls living in the Seireitei to show compassion for those living beyond the great wall. Nanao would always be grateful that she wasn’t transferred to the districts after her mother was executed. She only heard stories of the hardships many endured just to find basic necessities; Konishi-san’s clinics were no doubt helping to alleviate some of those pressures. She indeed personified the traits needed to be an effective leader in the Fourth division.

“Most of the women on her mother’s side were midwives,” Isane continued, pride clear in her voice. “So I think she’s planning to expand her clinics to include classes for new parents.”

“Konishi-san is kind,” Nanao murmured in quiet admiration. “Quite rare for a shinigami, wouldn’t you say?”

Isane leaned forward and rested her chin in her hands. Another smile graced her lips, but this time it was one made of pure mischief. “Our Soutaicho is kind, too.”

Nanao sighed and quickly poured more sake for herself and her co-conspirator. Both women quickly gulped the liquid down. What they were about to propose was risky, but the rewards were potentially worth the trouble. For their part, a bit of planning and a few nudges would be enough to get the key players on the board.

“I never took you for a matchmaker, Nanao-chan.” The Fourth’s captain fell prey to a fit of giggles, which ended on a few hiccupps.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Nanao’s teeth worried her bottom lip as the voice of reason tried make itself known.

“Oh, don’t you back down now,” Isane scolded. She filled her friend’s cup to the brim with the strong Kuchiki brew. “Here, have some more sake to clear your mind.”

Nanao gratefully accepted the freshly-filled cup. “I think having someone new in their lives would benefit both the Soutaicho and Konishi-san. Even if it’s just a friend.”

It was Isane’s turn to nod aggressively. “We just have to figure out how they can have some quality time alone. The Fourth’s barracks are out of the question. It’s been chaotic because we’re preparing for the tournament.”

Nanao crossed her arms, hoping the action would spur more ideas into her sake-addled mind. Moments later, her eyes narrowed. “The Soutaicho has mentioned several times that his right eye has been bothering—”

“That could work!” Isane gripped the edges of the table to steady herself. “The next time he mentions it, have him put a request directly to me for treatment. Then, I'll find an excuse to have the request transferred to Azumi-chan. Should she go to the First barracks to treat him?”

Nanao shakes her head quickly. “The risk of someone disturbing them is high. When he’s at the barracks, so many people need his help.”

“Hmm…then have him request a house call. That way, Azumi-chan can treat him without distractions.” Isane smiled triumphantly. “Then they’ll be forced to talk.”

“That won’t be hard. He loves the sound of his own voice.”

“Be nice to your Soutaicho!”

“I am being nice,” Nanao grumbled, trying hard not to roll her eyes. “So nice, in fact, that I’m going through all this trouble to set him up on a date.”

Another fit of giggles took over Isane’s body. “Now that I’m thinking about it, they make a very attractive couple.”

Nanao couldn’t disagree with that. Warmth and beauty radiated from Konishi-san, and the Soutaicho was still one of the most eligible bachelors in the Seireitei, despite his protests. She hoped the healer’s compassionate demeanor would bring some peace to her uncle’s burdened spirit. And that in turn, her uncle’s carefree approach to life would remind the healer that life didn't revolve solely around the losses it handed to her. But they had to approach this carefully.

“Let’s set the rules.”

“I’m listening.”

“These are our friends.” Nanao’s caution earned a sharp look from Isane. “We won't meddle more than necessary. We'll facilitate the introductions, but the rest will be up to them.”

“And we'll limit our questions about how things are progressing to just the facts,” Isane offered, even though she knew it would be excruciating for her not to pester Azumi-chan for details. “But if they want to supply us with more information, even better.”

“Agreed.”

And like all proper deals, the two friends sealed their scheme with a firm handshake. They were (cautiously) optimistic their machinations would benefit both parties.

“Here’s to causing a bit of trouble!” Isane beamed, poured two more cups of sake, then raised her hand for a toast.

“My tomatoes are scorching this early in the season. This may gravely affect our output which may prevent our community from enjoying our garden.”

If the letters seemed less earnest, you’d laugh them off and scoff at the fact a stranger wants you to control the weather. That isn’t what he’s asking you to do but if it were, it’d be far from the first time someone has sent you psychobabble about the sun. There’s something distinctly responsible in the wording of these complaints despite their formality and you sigh, digging your own pen and paper out to respond.

What can you even say? “Sorry the planet is heating up” seems snarkier than you’d like to be so you twist back and forth in your chair, tapping the pen against your lower lip. An idea washes over you and you lean forward in your chair, bending over your desk and scribbling as quickly as you can to offer the stranger your solution.

If he wants to know more about how weather works, you’ll be glad to tell him more yourself if he can catch you at Café Pothos next week when you get one of your pre-show coffees. Scribbling down the date and time, you wonder for a moment if you are taking a risk by offering your time and location to a man you’ve never met but your gut tells you it’s okay. You’ve always trusted it and you stuff your response into an envelope, licking the seal and closing it while dashing off toward the mailroom to have it sent today.

——

Wednesday, 5:45 AM.

Hajime sits boredly at one of the small booths in the cafe, idly tearing bits of his straw wrapper into smaller bits and even smaller ones still.

“What if she’s lying to you and you’re going to get caught on camera being weird or something?” Kotoha shouts from behind the bar and the man sucks his teeth in response, blowing out air in a hiss. “I hope not. That wouldn’t be very nice after personally inviting me to meet.”

His words don’t belay his anxiety but he feels it, concerned his well meaning letters crossed a line though your response was kind and similar in tone to his own. Your letter is in his pocket, he likes your handwriting and has to fight the urge to keep from pulling it out to admire it.

“Good morning!”

He recognizes your voice from your broadcasts and his ears perk up, posture straightening as he looks over the back of the booth, surprised by how put together you look despite not being quite TV ready. Your face looks fresh and mostly makeup free, hair pulled off of your face with a clip. Kotoha looks up from the bar and smiles at you, clearly familiar.

“Morning. Your usual?”

Very familiar, obviously. Hajime raises a brow and looks at his own mug, filled to the brim with coffee he knew he wouldn’t drink when it was poured. He watches you and Kotoha exchange pleasantries, your cat shaped coin purse open as you fish out the last few needed to pay for your drink. Maybe he should have offered to do that for you? It’s too early in the morning for him to feel sure of himself so his eyes flit from your back to the table in front of him.

He isn’t much of a black coffee guy but it seemed right preparing for some kind of strange business meeting to have it. At least that's what he thought until you approached him, cup clanging against the plate beneath it and the brim of it overflowing with whipped cream. Shaking his head, Hajime picks up his own cup half heartedly and sips from it to make it seem like he is doing anything besides waiting.

You stop in your tracks just short of the booth and tilt your head, a smile far bigger than the one you wear on TV crossing your face.

“Oh, I didn’t recognize your name but now that I see your face I remember you. My colleague Jin interviewed you last year about the improvements to the school.”

Umemiya completes your sentence for you and smiles easily back at you, sitting back against the booth. You smile nervously all of a sudden, crowding into the side opposite him and bowing your head respectfully, the mountain of whipped cream on top of your coffee drooping when you set the cup down.

“Umemiya, right?”

The man nods, sipping the bitter coffee from the mug in his hand with a slight grimace that you politely do not mention.

“Hajime is my first name and you’re welcome to use it if you’d like.”

Giggling, you nod and reach for your own cup, delicately lifting it to your mouth and humming your approval as the taste officially starts your morning. He chuckles in response, blue eyes glancing across the table at you with a look you can’t quite name but you think it may be good old fashioned curiosity.

Truthfully, he’s just a little taken aback by how pretty you are up close but he sips his coffee again instead of opening his mouth. You finish your sip and clasp your fingers together on the table in front of you with a grin, easy and natural.

“Well, Hajime, before we begin I just want to let you know that while I am sorry about your tomato plants, I am not a witch and cannot control the weather.”

The sweet smile on your face lets him know you’re joking and he raises his brows, sighing and shaking his head. The corners of his mouth are upturned in a clever smile matching his own and he glances up at you through thick and long lashes, one of his brows remaining raised.

“With all due respect, tell that to my tomatoes.”

Snorting before bursting into laughter, you don’t bother to hide your face in your shoulder when he laughs along with you. You didn’t notice it when you first sat down but he’s extraordinarily handsome even for the predawn hour, white hair flopping over his eyes far more boyishly than it should be allowed to. His eyes are blue and lively, not unlike the skies you love to report on so much, smile big and bright.

“Anyway,” you finish laughing and clear your throat, still smiling. “Now that we have that out of the way, it’s really nice to meet you and I’m here for any questions you may have. We have thirty minutes.”

Thirty minutes hardly seems like enough time to ask everything he wants to but he sits back, gently turning his wrist and making the coffee in his mug slosh gently. You giggle again, a very sweet sound that almost throws him off of his coffee twirling flow, lifting your own mug to your mouth.

“Why does it rain?”

Despite yourself, you laugh and rush to swallow your mouthful of coffee, wiping the corners of your lips free of any potentially embarrassing dribbles.

“I’ll need a lot longer than 30 minutes to explain that to you, Hajime.”

He wrinkles his nose, looking around the empty coffee shop.

“Then tell me what you can today and maybe we can meet again tomorrow?”

Mentally, you go over tomorrow’s schedule which coincidentally is the same as today and every day’s, and you nod at him with a loud exhale through your nose.

“Sure. Then maybe you can relay the info to your tomatoes so they can prepare?”

He grins at you, laughing from his chest. The depth of his laughter makes his shoulders gently shake, the long sleeved he wears shirt buckling over his chest.

You’re not living together. So why does he hope you’ll be there, curled up on that cheap little couch you’d insisted on bringing over, that lovely smile on your face as you greet him?

Those assholes must’ve hit his head harder than he realized. Sakura grits his teeth, an arm banded around his throbbing torso as he wobbles along the sidewalk. Weaklings, all of them. Acting tough solely because they have nothing better to do with their time. Seriously, it’s just plain pathetic.

He spits out a glob of blood into the nearby bushes. He doesn’t remember biting his cheek; maybe he’d ground his teeth against it after taking a particularly nasty kick while dodging someone else’s punch. Wasn’t he past his body locking up, his muscles moving with all the speed of a turtle?

The girl had been clutching the long strap of her purse with all her meager might while surrounded by leering thugs. The type of guys who coast by on looks rather than action. Intimidation instead of respect. At least now he’s able to articulate—better yet, understand—what pisses him off so badly about guys like that. Sakura would’ve leapt in regardless, but then he caught sight of her underneath the lamplight, and her shade of hair matched yours. The purse even had a keychain dangling from it, the charms jingling in faint alarm.

She wasn’t you, obviously. You were already home, had probably cooked something simple yet delicious and were keeping it warm until he arrived.

So he froze, mismatched eyes wide as a new type of fear unfurled within his chest, and then all hell broke loose. He knew how to protect someone in a fight, finally, and while the poor girl flattened herself against the side of a nearby building as he sent the idiots flying, his attention still kept flicking to her. He kept thinking what he’d do if it was you, and on one such slip of his concentration, that bastard’s boot came out of nowhere.

He’ll have to report this to Umemiya in the morning, and tell you all about it tonight, and—

Sakura looks up. He’s nearly there; the derelict building doesn’t seem so foreboding, especially once he catches sight of the warm yellow light on in his apartment. Maybe, just maybe, things won’t be so bad after all.

The doorknob wiggles. You carefully place your bookmark inside your book,  sitting up properly in your seat. Sakura’s home a bit later than usual—he probably got stuck eating at Café Pothos with everyone else. Good. You’re grateful he has so many friends, even if he acts like a cat who fell into a puddle of water about it.

“Welco—Sakura!” Your book tumbles from your hands in your haste to stand up. He stands in the doorway while you catalogue his injuries as if in slow motion. Blood drips down the left side of his face from a cut above his eyebrow. His nose is bleeding, too, running down his chin and staining his white shirt red. His knuckles are raw. It’s subtle; yet he sways, quickly placing his right hand against the wall to brace himself. The motion is enough to jolt you from your surprise.

You’re at his side in a blink. His reaction is sluggish; lips parting in belated surprise when you loop his right arm around your shoulders. Normally, he reads your movements almost before you make them, bracing himself for whatever contact you’re about to subject him to so he’s never caught off guard. But slowly, like water eroding rock, he’d learned that he can let his guard down around you, even at his most vulnerable.

Especially then.

“‘M fine,” he mutters out of reflex. You only scoff, walking him over to the couch with a small huff of effort. “Just a small fight.”

Carefully, you help ease him down onto the cushions, releasing your hold only once he’s settled. “A small fight?” You echo, disbelief in your tone. There’s no reprimand or ridicule, just a healthy doubt. He doesn’t know exactly when he stopped looking for the irritation he’s so used to hearing. Leaning his head back, he sighs. “Some guys were causin’ trouble. A new gang, I think. Trying to rob a girl—” he cuts off abruptly, and you watch his cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red, nearly blending in with the dried blood caking his skin. Sakura immediately looks away; he misses the knowing glint entering your expression.

Spinning on your heel, you head for the kitchen. The faucet doesn’t leak as badly now, after you’d finagled a temporary fix with determination and a healthy amount of internet research. He deserves more than a crappy sink, even if he won’t admit it. “You were by yourself?” You ask, opening the drawer and removing a towel. (Yet another item that had miraculously wound up in his space one day. When Sakura confronted you, you’d shrugged, then asked what he wanted for dinner.)

Sakura watches you for a moment, ignoring how something deep within his chest settles as you run the towel under cool water. It’s a familiar scene, enough that he no longer feels the urge to yell and raise his fists in defense. “Yeah. Nothin’ I couldn’t handle on my own.”

Strange. Suo-chan and Nirei-chan always shadow Sakura. Unless Sakura is going home—they haven’t invaded his space since the day they’d discovered him sick on the floor. Now, especially, Sakura would rip their heads off if they came snooping around while you were home. The faucet shuts off. You wring out the towel once, twice, then pad back over to the couch.

“I never doubted that, Grade Captain,” you tease, arranging yourself so you’re sitting on your knees. Drops of water drip down your wrist and onto the cushions below. His blush deepens, and you don’t bother hiding your smile. “Now hold still.”

“Shaddup,” he mumbles without heat. Instinct makes him shift back an inch; he’s always taken care of himself, alone. Sick, bruised, bloodied—he proved time and again he didn’t need anyone else. Then you breezed into his life, upending his entire world with your musical laughter and patient touch.

This is far from the first time you’ve patched him up. He no longer hisses and rages and scowls, a teenage version of a toddler’s temper tantrum, yet neither can he completely disregard a lifetime of gut reactions to others extending a hand in his direction.

You never minded when his hackles rose. You understood him, remaining endlessly understanding while he let his fear run its course. The damp rag hovers in the space between you and him. Sakura zeros in on the blue material instead of your face.

“Ready?”

That’s another thing. You ask him about things. Wait for his brain to catch up with non-dangerous situations. It’s weird, and scary, and wonderful.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“You always are.”

The smile you give him is radiant. Your free hand cups his less bloody cheek, keeping him steady, while you tenderly press the rag to his chin. He hisses out a breath through clenched teeth.

It’s quiet, as you slowly clean him up, beyond the soft scrap of material against skin. There’s a rhythm to your movements. Sakura finds it soothing, despite the circumstances. You both study each other; Sakura, like you’re a puzzle he’s still trying to solve, and you, like he’s something precious.

His golden eye truly is beautiful. He told you others have compared it to twilight, but you think it’s more akin to burnished gold. Rare, and infinitely treasured. He closes it, keeping it safe from harm as you run the now pink-tinged cloth over his browbone. A shame, you think, he keeps himself so locked away.

The slight pressure leaves his face. You move back, giving him room to breathe, holding the rag loosely in your hand. His eye opens again, a coin glinting in a riverbank.

“There,” you say, unfolding yourself from the couch, brushing your thumb across his cheek before you release him completely. “I’ll be back with the first aid supplies.”

Sakura just nods. He never says the words thank you; but you hear it in the way he lets you take care of him, how he takes your hands so reverently in his once your all finished, cradling you like he’s afraid you’ll snap in half if he squeezes too hard.

You’re opening the cabinet underneath the sink when he speaks again. “She looked like you.”

He says it so quietly, you nearly miss it. You freeze, half-bent down to reach for the ridiculous amounts of bandages and antiseptic bottles stashed neatly in their respective baskets. (Another thing you’d changed one day, much to Sakura’s initial chagrin, until he’d stumbled home covered in half a dozen cuts on the rare day you weren’t waiting for him, and found everything he needed without cursing his lack of organization.)

Mechanically, you grab the necessary materials. You’d assumed as much, based on his reaction when you told you the cause of his current state. A shudder runs down your spine as you imagine what the other guys must look like, lying defeated in the street. Sakura doesn’t fight just on behalf of someone else—at least, that what helps him sleep at night, though you know his tune has changed after all his experiences with Bofurin. For him to fight on your behalf, however tangentially related, makes your heart flutter.

Kotoha will practically jump for joy when you tell her.

For now, you let this newfound knowledge settle into your skin, your fluttering heart, smiling to yourself as you exit the bathroom, arms loaded with supplies. “Did she, now?”

Sakura’s sitting upright, head down, once again avoiding your gaze. His fingernails dig into the fabric of his school pants. Beneath the curtain of two-toned hair, you can see the blush sitting high on his cheeks. It’s a miracle they’re not permanently stained pink.

“Y-yeah. I knew she wasn’t you, but for a moment…I need to teach you how to defend yourself. I can’t patrol everywhere, and I’m not the strongest yet. Anyone from Furin will keep you safe, but if we’re not around—”

This is new. You swallow, setting the first aid supplies down on the tatami, sitting down with your legs crisscrossed. (One day, you’ll convince him to buy a table, but there’s only so much furniture you can squeeze in such a tiny place.)

“Sakura,” you say, but he doesn’t hear you.

“—I need to know you can take care of yourself until I get there—”

“Sakura.”

“—and send them all flyin’—”

“Haruka.”

That shocks him into silence. He inhales, then looks up sharply, lips curling into the angry snarl you know so well. It’s his only defense mechanism, beyond his fists, and he’d never raise those at you. (That thing lodged within his chest stirs again. No one’s called him by his given name in years. It feels right, that here, in this space you two have created together, you should use it.)

He’s quite the sight, half patched-up and spluttering mad. One eye darkens like a storm at sea; the other kindles into molten gold, ready to burn any who get in his way.

You’re surprised, too. But you didn’t know what else to do. He’s never spiraled like this before, and it hits you that for perhaps the first time, he was genuinely scared for someone else. You shake your head, breaking eye contact, and reach for the gauze. “I’m sorry, Sakura. I should have asked before using your first name.”

Your fingers shake only a little when you grab the nearest antiseptic, flipping open the cap with your thumb. He watches it all, struck dumb. He doesn’t want an apology. He wants you to say it again, but he doesn’t know how to ask.

All of the fight leaks out of him. His shoulders slump forward. Haruka. Haruka. You hadn’t said it in disgust, or fear, or hatred. If he had to guess, you sounded concerned. Haruka. “I liked hearin’ you say it,” he replies.

A laugh bubbles out of you, born from nervous relief. You nearly spill antiseptic all over you instead of the gauze. “Really? May I call you Haruka, then? Not all the time…just here.” Rising to your knees, you crawl over to him, taking one battered hand in your soft one.

His throat tightens. An odd pressure builds behind his eyes. “Fine.”

“This’ll sting,” you murmur in warning, almost like an afterthought. “You can use mine, too. If you want.”

Sakura’s about to respond, tell you he’ll do it if it’ll make you happy (and make his own heart beat a little faster), but then the gauze descends onto his split knuckles. It’s not like eating a kick to the face; it barely registers in comparison.

Maybe it’s the emotions he’s kept bottled up since the fight. Maybe it’s the fact you called him Haruka and the world didn’t explode. Both things, he assumes, and that’s why your healing touch hurts worse than a dozen roundhouse kicks.

It fades, after that first bright burst.

Neither of you say anything again while you continue your ministrations. Once his knuckles are taken care of, you move on to his face, tenderly smoothing his bi-colored bangs off his forehead to ensure no strands get caught underneath the small bandage you apply to the cut above his eyebrow.

The entire time, he replays this strange evening over and over again in his head. It all leads back to you, caring for him, using his first name like it’s nothing when it in fact means everything. He hates himself, a little bit, for not being better at this.

For your part, your focus on him turns clinical. You can deal with the emotional part of it later. When you’ve finished with the last bandage, you stare at him a moment. Take in this boy who pushed away the entire world when it wrote him off, the very same boy who harbors no malice in his heart, just kindness hidden by anger.

You press a soft kiss to his lips, then slide away before he can reciprocate. He splutters again, blush back in place, and it’s such a Sak—Haruka thing to do, you bite back a laugh.

“Are you ready to eat, Haruka? You get hungry after a good fight.”

unbeknownst to them, suo was remarkably softer with you. warmth and genuine kindness emanated from every content smile and careful dance of his hands over your skin, calloused fingertips bearing an ardent reverence that would cause even aphrodite to flush. the sharp edge to his tongue smoothed, his teasing light-hearted and devoid of the faint, underlying drip of venom that could sometimes be heard punctuating his words if someone listened closely enough. when he observed you, his eyes glowed with innocuous curiosity and rather than distant analysis. 

the more time he spent with you, the more he could read you like an open book, deft fingertips tracing over even your most tattered, weathered pages and the most smudged ink to wholly bare the contents of your soul to him. he sought to know you in your entirety—your likes and dislikes, how you like to be touched, how you react to certain things. after all, the more he knows about you, the better he can protect you. 

the better he can love you.

love.

that’s a tricky subject for you to navigate, he’s learned.

you were never one to shy away from his affection. in fact, you clearly delighted in the attention he lavished you with. there was never a question as to whether you would hurry to lace your fingers with his if he reached out to you, if you would lean into his caresses, or if you would let him pepper kisses across your cheeks. you were so receptive to his ministrations, so much so that it was almost natural for your body to drift toward his in search of some sort of closeness. whatever he doled out, you returned, and that included the light banter and flirtatious remarks you two often exchanged. you fascinated him, kept him on his toes. 

the only area of your relationship that you fell short in was verbal confessions of love. suo knew that you were fiercely protective of your heart, already having subjected it to enough bruises and scrapes throughout your life to make you want to guard it to the best of your abilities. he was fortunate as it was that you had trusted him enough to relinquish it to him.

he knew that you were still learning to navigate the choppy waters of vulnerability—true vulnerability. it was easy enough to bask in suo’s attention and rely on his ability to comprehend the unspoken, but to say the words aloud would be to speak it into being, to charge the universe with the magnetic force that will bind your fate to his, to make it real. you never said anything that you didn’t mean, and suo understood that after all your hard work fortifying your emotions, to openly admit it would require you to let down your guard entirely and let him in.

there’s no doubt in his mind that you love him. he can feel it in the way you pour every ounce of heartfelt emotion into the kisses you press to his lips, your dedication toward memorizing and analyzing all of his microexpressions so that you can understand him on a deeper level, and the adoration that pools in your eyes like molten honey as you observe him when you think he isn’t paying attention. only a fool would mistake the depth of your feelings. 

he can read you like a book, that much is true, but it’s much more enjoyable to have it read to him line–by–line than to flip through the pages on his own. 

it’s quite endearing, actually, the way your skin would warm and your brain would stall whenever his lips would brush a saccharine “i love you” over the shell of your ear, or the way goosebumps would scatter across your skin and you would clench around him whenever he’d pair the words with a well–timed thrust inside you. he thrives off flustering you and witnessing your demeanor crumble into a delightful shyness that never fails to cause a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips.

even so, he sometimes finds himself yearning for that reassurance that you’re as irrevocably enamored with him as he is with you—that you crave him the way he craves you. he understands that it’s greedy of him and that he should tamp down such self–centered emotions. he knows what your feelings toward him are; it would be inconsiderate of him to pry you out of your shell until you’re ready in order to satisfy his own desires. the concept of love operates differently for different people, and he can accept that. 

it always slips his mind how swiftly things can change.

it was a complete coincidence when he’d stumbled upon you in the outdoor seating area of a restaurant, accompanied by a few  friends of yours. he recalled you telling him that you were going out for lunch with them, but he had no idea that his outing in search of a new pair of shoes to replace his worn ones would cause your paths to cross. he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on your conversation, only to simply greet you and then continue about his business, but he paused when he heard his name leave one of your friends’ lips.

“so, are you and suo still together?”

oh? before he can even acknowledge the gravity of contravening your privacy, his body is sparked into motion all on its own. he’s quick to retreat, melting into the slanted shadow proffered by the slim alleyway he had been poised to exit, just beyond the scope of your view.

he’s well aware that this is an infraction of the trust you extended to him, but he forces himself to disregard the prick of guilt aside in favor of potentially learning valuable information about the inner workings of your brain. it may not be ideal, but it’s for the best, he reasons. what if you reveal to your friends ways that he could better serve as your boyfriend? what if you feel more comfortable explaining to your friends your reservations about returning his heartfelt confessions? besides, the conversation is technically also centered around him, so surely it would be rude to bar him from listening in.

“of course,” the thought of you denying your relationship was never a concern for suo. you both trust each other implicitly, but to hear you stake such an immediate, explicit claim over him rouses a ticklish spark of delight in his stomach all the same. you scoff, as if the idea was so improbable it was ridiculous. “i’ll tie that man up in my basement before i let him just leave.” suo chuckles gently to himself. perhaps you truly are as invested as he is, after all.

“the dick must be fucking life–altering, if that’s the case.” she laughs. “come on, tell us. is it?”

“wh—” suo’s lips settle into a small, amused smile as he watches you flounder under her questioning, eyes feverishly flitting to your other friends for help, only for each one of them to leave you to drown with their own wide–eyed, inquisitive stares. “oh, my god, i’m not telling you that!” nervous laughter wracks your chest. suo’s shrewd gaze can practically perceive the memories flickering through your brain as you try to maintain your composure, each one spliced together in a salacious collage that has blood thrumming beneath your skin. suo has always been one to fine–tune his craft, and his perfectionism extended to the bedroom as he used his meticulous attention to detail and acute awareness of your reactions to guide you to your peak over . . . and over . . . and over again until he was satisfied.

and of course, you knew that.

“but seriously,” another girl props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm, observing you closely. “i’ve never seen you like this before. before him, you were all ‘ew, gross, men’—not to say that isn’t still valid, but y’know. maybe suo really is a good match for you.”

“do you love him?” the first girl pipes up ecstatically.

now we’re getting somewhere.

it requires significant concentration for suo not to laugh outright when a jolt of surprise grips your body, your muscles visibly tensing and eyes rounding. your lips part to speak, but the words remain wedged in your throat. “i—uh . . .”

“wait, for real?” the third girl, who had remained quiet this entire time, finally speaks up. “do you not actually love him?”

this time, when you don’t at least make an effort to deny their claims, suo’s smile begins to wilt. from suo’s angle, your expression is sapped of the typical bashfulness he had been anticipating. rather, your features are murky with conflict, brows furrowed pensively and fingertips drumming against the chilled glass of the untouched beverage sitting between your palms. for the first time in a while, he can’t read you, and while he’s always enjoyed a bit of reticence and mystery, he doesn’t want it like this—not when such uncertainty is founded on the future of his relationship. did he misunderstand you somehow? was he wrong? no, there’s no way that you’d have done everything you did if you didn’t harbor some type of love for him. it’s simply not plausible. right? 

the silence is unnerving, causing a chasm of apprehension to split his stomach and swallow up the candlelit flicker of warmth that once resided in his chest. he’s never been an anxious individual, typically collected and level–headed under pressure. in fact, he’s always prided himself on his ability to remain composed; but now, as he stands here, body stiff and heart thumping as he waits for you to continue, he figures that love really is one hell of a drug. only the wideness of his eyes betrays his usual poise, but even that would be enough for any of his friends to notice that something is amiss. well, mature as he may be and as far above the fragility of human nature that others believe he is, he’s still only human. and it’s times like this that remind him that he’s still weak.

god, how far has he fallen? how much power did he give you?

“all this time, i thought you guys were in love.” the second girl gasps, hand flitting up to cover her mouth. “so, what’s going on? what’s wrong with him?”

“nothing!” you’re quick to find your voice to defend him, but for some reason, it doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest or the worried spin of his mind. “he’s wonderful, it’s just—”

“is he mean to you?” the second girl presses. “because if he is, i can—”

“he’s obviously not mean to her if she’s still with him.” the first girl retorts, silencing her with a dismissive wave of her hand. before the second girl can argue, she continues. “it could just be that it’s too early for her to know if she does.”

“it’s been months.” the third girl points out. “something has to be up if she doesn’t love him—”

“i do!”

suo’s fingers twitch.

your friends fall silent as the words burst from your chest, unwavering and aflame with conviction. your voice quiets as you fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair, eyes still fixated on the cup in front of you. “i do love him, it’s just . . . i’ve never felt like this for anyone, and i don’t know what to do. it feels so real and intense, and it’s scary.”

your words reverberate through suo’s mind as he expels a breath he didn’t notice was wedged in his chest. “i do love him.” his entire body seems to decompress, the tension in his muscles alleviating. “i’ve never felt like this for anyone.” suddenly, your hesitance makes sense. not only were you protective of your heart to begin with, but the magnitude of the importance of this was much larger and therefore more frightening than he realized. suo’s heart swells in his chest at your confession, pride licking up his sternum to grace the apples of his cheeks with a feather–light kiss of ruby. he’s honored to be the first person you’re entrusting with such a privilege—well, even if he’s not supposed to know about it yet.

“what do you mean, you don’t know what to do?” the first girl stares at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head. she flips her hands over with her palms facing toward the sky. “tell him?”

“i can’t just do that!” this time, it’s your turn to look at her like she just told you she ran over a family of five with her chevy tahoe, and suo chuckles.

“and why not?” she flops back in her seat incredulously.

“i just told you, it’s scary!” you insist matter–of–factly. “you remember the last guy i was with? it lasted one month, and in that amount of time, i aged thirty years and had stress levels that would’ve gotten me sent to the emergency room.”

suo hums softly in surprise. you didn’t tell him about that. of course, he had suspected that someone had dragged you through the trenches prior to accepting him as your boyfriend, but he felt as though that was a topic that would be better left to your discretion. you would tell him if you wanted him to know, so he never questioned you.

“yeah, but suo is way better than him.” the third girl reminds you. “at least, i think so. i only met the guy like twice.”

“helpful.” the second girl remarks dryly.

“no, he seriously is so much better.” you insist. “he’s everything i could’ve asked for, but it’s just . . . exposing myself like that would mean he has everything he needs to hurt me, and if i end up flat on my ass again, i don’t know what i’m gonna do. and i know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but . . . ugh, this is impossible.” you let your head loll back. 

there’s a brief stretch of silence before the second girl speaks up again, and this time, her voice has flattened into a deadpan. “girl.” she blinks at you. “that’s the issue?”

clearly not anticipating that reaction, you stare blankly at her for a moment, searching for the right words. “i—what?” you bristle defensively. “what’s that supposed to mean? is that suddenly not a good reason to bare my heart and soul to this man?”

“no, it’s actually really not.” the third girl joins the second’s campaign. she scoots forward in her seat and folds her hands delicately on the table. “let’s reflect. this is suo we’re talking about. this is the same man who stayed the night and took care of you religiously when you were sick with food poisoning from your first date, the same man who gave you earrings similar to his for your birthday, and the same man who showed up at your house in the pouring rain with nothing but the clothes on his back to accompany you when that storm knocked your power out—as a ‘friend.’” 

“why did you use air quotes around the word ‘friend?’” the first girl narrows her eyes at the third.

“because he was playing the long game, okay? he was plotting. stay with me now.” she answers quickly, placing her hand on the first girl’s knee. 

suo chuckles, raising his brows. he has to admit, your friends are impressive.

“so,” the third girl continues. “those are just a couple examples, but it’s crystal clear that suo is devoted. like he’s in this to stay.”

“or he’s some sort of supervillain.” the second girl interjects.

“don’t say that!” the third girl snaps, aghast. “no, yeah, you’re right. the ‘untouchable’ furin graduate who took a bat to the ribs just to keep her safe is definitely here to create lifelong trauma for her. anyway, as i was saying,” she turns back to you, “if that’s not enough, think about it this way. suo is really private, right?”

“right.” you nod.

“well, he was probably in a similar boat as you, then. i mean, you said that you were worried that you’d be giving him what he needs to hurt you, but the inverse is also true, and he already told you he loves you. he trusted you not to hurt him with that information, so you should be able to trust him not to do that to you, either.”

“that’s . . . wait,” the wheels rotate in your brain as you mull over her advice, and your hand drifts up to conceal your mouth in a moment of clarity. “oh, shit. no, wait, yeah, you may have a point. i didn’t think about it like that.”

“that’s what you have us for.” the third girl grins.

“so, does that mean you’re gonna tell him?” the second girl quirks a brow at you. “maybe? probably? hopefully?”

“uh . . . probably not . . .” you wince, only to jump when you’re promptly subjected to an onslaught of groans and complaints from your friends.

“dude, what the fuck?” 

“i know, i’m sorry!” you yelp.

“did you get nothing out of the conversation?”

“no, i did, i swear!” your desperate attempts to defend yourself against your friends are fractured by bouts of laughter. “trust me, i did.”

“so, what’s the problem now?” the second girl drags her palm exhaustedly down her cheek.

“the issue is that it’s still embarrassing!” you whine. “you literally said it yourself earlier. i’ve never been like this—ever! just thinking about saying it makes me wanna crawl in a hole. it makes me feel, like, exposed or some shit, i don’t know—quit looking at me like that! i don’t know how else to explain it!”

“don’t piss me off.”

 “what?” your lips pop open in indignation. “but—”

suo’s slender fingers settle delicately over his lips as he chuckles to himself and steps completely behind the alley corner. his eyelids flutter low, gaze soft with contentment, as he listens to you scramble to defend yourself against your frustrated friends. it’s alright, they’ve done plenty. he can take it from here.

the conversation bounced around between the four of you has certainly altered the circumstances, providing you with the clarity needed to shed your reservations about setting yourself up for a potential heartbreak and unfurling the remaining layers of your defense to reveal the lingering issue still barring you from being honest about your feelings. at this point, it seems to no longer be about you being ill–equipped and underprepared to handle such a divulgence, which he could certainly accept. now, it appears to be about disentangling yourself from the binds of shame and embarrassment. about you requiring a little push in the right direction—well, less of a small nudge and more of a guiding hand that you would trust to unravel you down to the strings of your heart.

fortunately for you, there is no one more aware of what loose threads of yours to tug on in order to achieve his goal than suo himself.

maybe it’s unfair of him to change his mind and concoct an excuse to denounce the leniency and understanding that had been fueling his patience thus far. maybe it’s unfair of him to take the initiative to strip you of the protective cocoon he had previously been more than prepared to allow you to reside in. maybe it’s unfair of him to press you, to utilize his silver tongue and honeyed words to draw out your rawest and most vulnerable state.

but when the opportunity has practically tripped and fallen into his lap, how could he not? it isn’t as if it would be a detriment to you. he has never led you astray, and he certainly isn’t going to start now. 

a venereal plan is already brewing in the back of his mind as he mulls over how to best extract such a confession from you. no matter what type of attitude you may acquire or how sturdy you believe your resistance to be, pleasure has never failed to whittle and melt you down into a pliant puddle that’s all soft edges and hazy, trusting eyes. an even trade—a release only he can provide for the secret you’re trying so hard to keep from him? this evening, perhaps, if he plays his cards right. you don’t have plans tomorrow, which means you certainly can’t be too angry if he keeps you awake into the darkest hours of the night. 

he can practically feel the ghost of the warmth of your skin under his fingertips as he keeps you pinned so that you can’t escape his ministrations, taste the salt brimming in your tears of frustration as you war between your pride and surrendering to the pleasure he plans to dangle in front of you, and hear your whines and moans as he keeps you just barely balanced on the precipice of release. he can already predict how you’ll label him as mean—manipulative, even. and maybe he is.

he’s only human, after all. 

“i’ll follow this path while you check the other end,” sakura called out with a steady voice. of course, he was determined to find the cat. not that he would ever say it out loud.

with a single nod from suo, they both separated.

as sakura carefully made his way deeper into the alley, he spotted a small, trembling ball of white fur perched on a high ledge. it looked scared, and sakura suddenly felt something stir inside him. with careful footsteps so as not to scare the cat, he approached it slowly. but then his shoe made a sound when it stepped on a fallen dry leaf, and the cat’s mismatched eyes met his. just as sakura was about to reach for it, the cat suddenly bolted further down the alley, disappearing around a corner.

sakura grunted in frustration but still followed the cat with determination. he ran after it and turned the corner, only to be met with an unexpected sight.

there, standing in the middle of the alley, was you, holding the white cat in your arms. you looked up and were startled by his sudden appearance.

"oh, um, hi," you said, a bit flustered. "i found this little guy hiding here. is he yours?"

sakura blinked, momentarily taken aback by your presence. his face quickly turned red as he tried to cover his surprise with a frown. "wh-what the… wh-where the hell did you come from? and n-no! he's not mine. an old lady asked us to help find him.”

“is that so?” you smiled gently, seemingly unfazed by his brusque tone. "he seems really scared, though. poor thing."

sakura quickly glanced away before muttering, "y-yeah, well, thanks for catching him." for some unknown reason, he was unable to maintain eye contact.

you then introduced yourself, and sakura spluttered out a response before eventually introducing himself as well, “t-the name’s sakura. sakura haruka.”

after that, you both fell into a somewhat awkward silence. neither of you knew what to say. although you did a quick glance at sakura then the cat, suddenly recognizing a familiar similarity. without thinking, you blurted out, “you sure he’s not yours?”

“i told you he’s not mine!”

after that burst from sakura, he turned away to lead you to where the original owner was. as you walked back together, sakura was still sporting a fuming yet flustered face, with his shoulders raised as if he was embarrassed, and you could practically see steam coming out of his head. you laughed from behind, while still holding onto the small ball of white fur in your arms, which, thankfully, was already asleep.

when you finally arrived at the location, you returned the cat to its grateful owner, who was standing between a guy with yellow hair and a guy with an eyepatch. the old lady thanked you profusely, tears of gratitude in her eyes. "thank you so much! i don't know what i would have done without you furin boys, and you as well, dear," she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

sakura tried to hide his embarrassment with a nonchalant expression. "yeah, yeah, it was nothing," he mumbled, his face still slightly red. "just… don’t let it get away next time!"

you all then bid the older woman goodbye, and as you walked back, you were introduced to the other two guys who sported the same furin uniform as sakura. you also introduced yourself and told them about what happened.

as they resumed their patrol, sakura couldn't help but steal glances at you walking beside him. he tried to act indifferent, but his flustered demeanor gave him away. it was already late in the afternoon, and suo teased him to walk you back to where your home was. you, on the other hand, kindly rejected the offer, saying that you did not want to disrupt their patrol any longer. plus, you still had somewhere to go. as you turned in a different direction, you bid the three guys goodbye, particularly to sakura. “bye, sakura!”

sakura just nodded his head, and after making sure that you were out of sight, suo and nirei went beside him. suo, with a teasing glint in his eye, says, “what a sweet girl, huh?”

“you wanna fight!?”

𓍢ִ໋ suo hayato

it’s not every day that suo gets to meet unique people in his life. other than the guys from furin, no one else has ever piqued his interest.

not until today.

he was having tea at café pothos early in the morning. kotoha, who was behind the counter, would have questioned why he wasn’t accompanied by the other two but decided against it since it’s not really unusual for suo to be alone. there are times when suo actually visits the café and enjoys tea on his own, savoring the tranquility of these solitary moments.

there were a few people inside the café, but it wasn’t really a busy day. as suo sipped on his tea, eye closed, with the calming aroma and taste helping to ease his mind, he was able to sense the things happening around him: the constant jingling of the bells on the door whenever someone opened and closed it, kotoha’s voice calling out orders, and the soft chattering of people around him.

but he caught one particularly distressed voice inside the café, mumbling foreign words. not that he didn’t understand it. quite frankly, he was very familiar with the language.

he opened his eye to find the source of the voice and immediately spotted you, sitting two tables away. he noted that you were looking at the cafe’s menu with a troubled expression, your brow furrowed and lips moving as if rehearsing what to say. he slightly tilted his head and listened closely to what you were saying. once he confirmed the language, he set his cup of tea down on the plate. ever the gentleman, he stood up and made his way over to you.

“do you need any help?” he asked in the same language he had heard you speaking. it wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough to understand. plus, his voice was warm and reassuring.

you, on the other hand, looked up in surprise, relieved to hear someone speaking your native language. embarrassed by the sudden appearance of a guy (who was good-looking even with an eyepatch) in front of you, you ducked your head behind the menu, peeking out cautiously. in a combination of your native language and a bit of japanese, you said, “yes, please. i’ve only been here for a short time, but i still can’t get the hang of japanese.”

suo chuckled softly before explaining every food and beverage available on the menu, describing the dishes with a gentle, knowledgeable tone. he helped you pick out an order and, once confirmed, he turned towards kotoha, who was already looking at him with a raised brow and a smirk, and effortlessly translated the order for you.

you watched him as he spoke, admiring his calm and collected demeanor. once the order was placed, he turned back to you with a friendly smile.

"i’m suo hayato. nice to meet you."

feeling a bit more at ease, you introduced yourself. "thank you so much, suo. i didn’t expect to meet someone who could speak my language here."

suo nodded, still smiling. "no problem at all. i’m glad i could help. are you new in town?"

"sort of. i’ve been here for a few months, but it still feels new to me," you admitted, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and determination.

suo nodded understandingly. "it can be tough adjusting to a new place, especially with the language barrier. if you ever need help, feel free to reach out."

you both decided to share a table once you received your order. the conversation flowed smoothly, with suo teaching you useful japanese phrases and you sharing your experiences in makochi and your decision to stay in japan to study. suo’s calm and friendly demeanor made the interaction enjoyable, and you felt grateful for the unexpected encounter. his genuine interest in your story and his patient explanations helped ease your anxieties.

eventually, it was time to part ways. suo mentioned that nirei had texted him to come to school for a meeting, while you had other errands to run. you exchanged contact information, promising to meet up again soon.

𓍢ִ໋ kaji ren

“yo, kaji! you comin’ with us?” enomoto called out from outside the classroom door. kaji, who was looking out the window, was tapped on the shoulder by kusumi. to avoid repeating what enomoto said, kusumi showed kaji what was written on his phone:

'let’s go visit a newly opened music store! it opened just 5 days ago.'

that's how the three of them ended up at the new store in the middle of town. although kaji was reluctant to go at first, he decided to tag along because he wanted to look for a specific album his favorite artist had released two days ago. he didn't want to miss the chance to find it, especially since it might be available in the new store.

the sound of music and the scent of new merchandise filled the air. while enomoto and kusumi chatted excitedly and explored the aisles, kaji wandered off on his own, adjusting his headphones over his head. he let his vice-captains explore while he searched for the album he had been eager to buy.

when he finally found the aisle where the album might be, he carefully scanned the shelves. after searching nonstop, he finally spotted it on the top shelf. there was only one copy left. he had expected this since the artist was pretty famous, so of course it would sell out quickly.

fortunately, kaji was able to find the last copy for the day, and with a barely contained gleam of excitement in his eyes, he reached out for it. however, he noticed another arm reaching for the same album. since he was taller and the album was on a high shelf, he grabbed it first.

he looked down and saw you standing there, your hand still outstretched. you were clearly reaching for the same album.

"oh, sorry about that," you said, lowering your arm and looking up at him. there was a bit of disappointment on your face, but you quickly wiped it off with a smile. “i guess you got to it first.”

kaji moved his headphones around his neck, barely catching what you said. he looked at you and noticed how your eyes focused on the album in his hand. twirling the lollipop in his mouth while thinking about what to do, he debated whether to call enomoto and kusumi over to help him out.

not knowing what to say, he just stared at you, so you sheepishly continued, “uh, i should go look for something else, then.”

his eyes followed you as you passed by him to go to another aisle, and he felt a bit embarrassed by the encounter. plus, he hadn't even uttered a word to you. after hesitating for a bit, he decided to follow you.

you, on the other hand, were a bit saddened that you couldn’t get the last copy of the album your friend wanted for her birthday. it was the only gift you could think of, remembering how she would talk to you about the artist and the new album.

with a heavy sigh, you looked through the shelves, hoping to find something else of interest to your friend. you were so focused that you didn’t notice kaji behind you. he tapped you on the shoulder to get your attention. you jumped a bit before turning around to see who it was. you were surprised to see the guy from earlier again. confused but still friendly, you asked, “can i help you?”

kaji noticed the genuine friendliness in your demeanor, and although it was out of character for him to give up something he really wanted, he couldn’t forget the slight disappointment on your face.

“here," he said, handing you the album. "you can have it."

“wait, what?” you blinked, genuinely surprised by the sudden act. "really?”

he shrugged, putting a new lollipop back in his mouth. "it's no big deal. i can get it another time."

“thank you so much!”

as you took the album from him, you introduced yourself with a big smile, and kaji introduced himself back. you started talking about the music store, and he found himself responding more than he usually did with people he just met. despite his quiet nature, you managed to make the conversation flow easily.

after a while, enomoto and kusumi eventually found him, and you gave them a polite nod after paying for the album at the counter. "well, it was nice meeting you, kaji. thanks again for the album!"

"yeah," he replied while nodding, watching as you walk away.

as he turned back to his vice-captains, enomoto grinned. "making new friends already, captain?"

"shut up, enomoto," kaji rolled his eyes, putting his headphones back over his head.

kusumi smiled and showed what was written on his phone:

‘come on, let's check out the rest of the store.’

kaji followed them, a lollipop in his mouth, as he thought about what other album he should check out.

𓍢ִ໋ umemiya hajime

"hajime-kun, thank you once again for helping me carry these boxes into the store!"

"no problem at all!" umemiya exclaimed, his face beaming with a big smile after placing the last box on top of the pile. "glad i could help ya!"

one of umemiya's regular weekend routines is to go into town and assist townspeople in need. today, he came across mr. (l/n), a kind old man who was struggling to move boxes from his truck into his plant shop, which he runs with his wife. umemiya is very familiar with the sweet couple, often helping them around the store or running errands for them.

whenever umemiya comes by, they give him snacks, and once they even gifted him an indoor potted plant after he helped clean up the store following a gang fight. that plant now sits by the window in his room at the orphanage, a cherished gift he takes good care of. he is deeply grateful to the couple, who treat him like their own grandchild.

dusting off imaginary dirt from his hands, the 13-year-old umemiya asked, “is there anything else you need help with?”

mr. (l/n) hummed thoughtfully. after a moment, he exclaimed, “ah! are you busy after this, hajime-kun?”

umemiya blinked, then looked up, trying to recall if he had any plans for the day. when he realized he didn't, he shook his head.

"then," the old man clasped umemiya’s hand in his larger ones, his voice gentle yet tinged with concern. "could you check on my granddaughter? she went to the convenience store nearby, but my wife is worried she might get lost."

“your granddaughter?” umemiya asked curiously. he had never heard about mr. (l/n)’s granddaughter before, despite frequently visiting the store whenever he had free time.

“yes,” the old man nodded, releasing umemiya’s hands and turning to look outside. “she lives in furano with her parents and arrived two days ago to visit us. while this isn’t her first time in makochi, it’s her first time exploring on her own.”

“so, hajime-kun,” mr. (l/n) turned back to him with a closed-eye smile, “will you please go after my granddaughter to see if she’s alright?”

umemiya grinned and nodded, “sure!”

mr. (l/n) described his granddaughter to umemiya before he left the plant store to find you. he went to the nearest convenience store to check if you were still there, but you were nowhere to be found. he also noted that he didn’t see you on his way there.

she’s probably already lost. i must find her quickly.

umemiya checked alleyways, hoping to find you, but still saw no sign of a girl matching mr. (l/n)’s description.

he was already a bit far from the convenience store when he spotted a girl a few inches away, wandering aimlessly with a plastic bag in hand. she muttered something under her breath, but ume still heard it.

“oh great, we’re just walking in circles in this town.”

ume approached to confirm if this was mr. (l/n)’s granddaughter. as he got closer, you looked up, hearing his footsteps.

upon seeing your face, umemiya noticed a resemblance to mr. (l/n). to be sure, he asked with a gentle smile, “hi, are you (l/n)-san’s granddaughter?”

you blinked at the boy, who seemed about your age, before furrowing your eyebrows. “um, yeah. how’d you know?”

“i was helping out at the store a while ago and (l/n)-san asked me to escort you back home just in case you get lost!”

“w-who said i was lost?” you defended yourself. confident in your ability to navigate, you felt certain despite it being more than a year since your last visit to your grandparents' town. “i just got a bit sidetracked, that’s all!”

“really?” umemiya tilted his head. “but i’m pretty sure i heard you muttering that you were walking around–”

“okay! okay,” you interrupted, waving your arms to stop him. “you caught me, alright? but don’t tell my grandpa about this!”

umemiya laughed before introducing himself. you narrowed your eyes at him but introduced yourself as well. the two of you fell into conversation as you made your way back to your grandparents' house, and umemiya promised to tour you around town if he got the chance to meet you again.

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