Match Me - A Little Light Reading
31. A Little Light Reading
It wasn't like Nanao to ignore or delay responding to her captain's call. Usually she was up and out of her chair in seconds -- if not already at his side -- but for the past few hours his incessant beckoning had become something verging on a fixation.
She appeared in the doorway to his office for the umpteenth time, her sharp look trained on his lackadaisical expression as he sat behind his desk, mulling over another set of application forms. "What now?"
He heaved an exaggerated sigh and looked pitifully at her. "I need your opinion on these matches, dear Nanao."
She refused to refer to the dear in her routinely manner, having already made those points four times already that early afternoon. "Another, Captain? How many are you going to attempt today?"
He glanced to her with his best dejected look, hoping for that elusive indulgent response he was certain she still possessed but rarely let him have. "I want to get these right. I'm especially troubled over these two." He held up a couple of papers. "If I don't get them matched right our reputation will be in question."
She gave him a shrewd look and crossed the office to his desk. "I don't think your applicants will take it that seriously, Captain."
"Oi, they may." He pulled out the chair beside his, grinning as her eyes went to it. "Lend me your feminine instincts, Nanao."
She took her place beside him, which was faintly warm since the last time he'd needed her feminine instincts not so long ago, and looked to the applications on the desk. She sighed and sat back. "We've -- you've -- already matched these two. You matched them at noon, and two, and again at three o'clock, Captain." She raised an eyebrow at him, hoping it appeared more severe than she felt. "I think they work. I know they work. You know they work. Everyone but they know it works."
"But will it work beyond theory?" he asked, his eyes on the applications as his arm settled at the back of her chair. "On paper, yes, but in spirit?"
She sat straight in the chair, his arm providing more warmth than was welcome on the hot summer day, but somehow not unwanted proximity, bringing the faint scent of aftershave with him. Which made her question why, for a man who obviously shaved so seldom, he was so intent on skipping the chore to go straight to the after part.
"Yes, in spirit," she said, sighing. "In theory, in spirit, destined for each other, fated, stars aligned in the heavens, all of it." Her finger tapped one of the forms. "It's one of your best matches, Captain Kyouraku. Why are you doubting it?"
His eyes searched hers for a long moment, holding her attention as the flush rose over her cheeks. He sighed. "I've annoyed you, my dear."
"No, I'm not annoyed," she said, pushing her glasses farther back on her nose, willing the heat to leave her face.
He looked back to the forms on the desk, attention drifting between them for a longer moment before he smiled and pulled another application from beneath the stack to one side. "This is what you're worried about." He slid her questionnaire before them. "We haven't matched you to anyone yet, sweet Nanao, and you're afraid we'll run out of --"
"No, nothing of the sort," she said quickly, reaching for the paper.
His hand halted the form. "I want nothing but the best for you, Nanao. You must know that by now." His eyes held a rare sincerity in their brown depths. "I want you to be happy."
"I'm happy now," she said, voice faltering, fingers paused on the paper.
"Are you?"
She nodded.
He watched a softer malleability over take her eyes, making him look slowly back to the form, clearing his throat. "Because I'd hate for you to end up like one of these." He pulled a form out from beneath hers. "Unable to overcome a captain's treason, laden with angst, dismal and doubtful, ah, and getting worse." He set another form alongside it. "Or like this one, so driven to prove herself capable that she'd help knife her captain to a tree to take photos of his half-naked body."
Nanao eked out a whimper before she could stop herself, the images flashing through her mind. The color drained from her face as she kept her attention on the form. "It wasn't all her fault, Captain."
"No, Captain Soi Fon helped," he said with a chuckle. "Not easy to get away from something Captain of Second Division is behind."
"The Women's Association was behind it." An ill feeling overtook her. "She said she apologized."
"Hmm? Oh, yes she has. Often and whole-heartedly." He looked between the forms. "That's why I think her energy could be better used to lift this one," he tapped the form beside it, "out of his misery."
She nodded, feeling his fingers at the edge of her shoulder, pressing slightly. "So -- again -- you've matched the same shinigami to each other for the fourth time this afternoon." She sighed, aware of the fingers drawing lightly down the length of her sleeve. She didn't look at him, knowing the blush would return in force. "Congratulations, Captain."
"Thank you, Nanao."
For a few moments they sat, both watching the forms on the desk top as if they expected them to do something other than lay there.
Shunsui sighed. "You may have the rest of the day off, Nanao."
She looked quickly to him. "Captain?"
He smiled. "You work hard, Nanao. You deserve it. In case you have pressing issues to attend."
"No..."
"Oh. Well, in case."
"I really don't. I should stay and reorganize --"
"I insist."
She nodded, watching his smile, unable to see beyond it. "Thank you, Captain."
She stood and collected the forms, leaving hers on the desk with the other stack of unmatched applications. She'd barely gotten to the door when he spoke again.
"Do you have any plans this evening, Nanao?"
She stopped at the doorway, turning to look at him. "No, Captain." She waited, almost anticipating his next query, feeling her pulse quicken.
He nodded, watching her with a contained appetence. "You're certain?"
She sighed, realization setting in that he was merely asking of her evening, and that was all. "Yes."
"Oh."
She looked down to the forms. "I'll make the reservations and have the invitations sent, Captain."
His smile was automatic. "Very well, Nanao."
The day dissolved quietly into evening and Nanao spent most of that time doing the paperwork she'd brought home from the Eighth Division office. It was considerate of her captain to give her the afternoon off, but she felt pressed to finish the majority of paperwork from the day.
The rooms of her quarters were cooler than the Division office, with a soft breeze that made its way in through the open windows, carrying scents of late-blooming hollyhock and moonflowers, making the rooms fragrant. She'd completed most of her work by ten o'clock, surprised at the late hour, having worked through her usual dinner time.
"The rest can wait," she decided, standing from the low table in the main room and stretching. She pulled the combs from her hair and let the dark tresses fall, smiling at the freedom.
She straightened the papers into piles of finished and unfinished work on the table and went into her bathroom. She'd declined Momo's invitation to join her for stitching that evening, and had to keep a knowing smile from her face as she spoke with the short girl. She wondered if it showed in her expression. She hoped not.
She ran the warm and cool water in the tub, anticipating a luxurious bath of lilac and sandalwood oils as she shook in the scents from separate bottles. She set a towel and washcloth by the tub. As was her nature, she went into her bedroom and compiled a bundle of paperwork to read in the tub, but this wasn't duty. She switched on the sink's overhead light in lieu of the room's center ceiling light, not wanting to add to the warmth of the weather.
Well, some of it was duty, she thought, just a few memos from the Division staff mixed in, but most of it was just leisure. Articles from the Seireitei Communication, a few letters from other members of the Division, minutes from the Women's Association, and such like.
She pulled the short stool closer to the tub and set the papers on it, and then turned off the water. She slipped off her robes and out of her underclothes, smiling almost guiltily at the cooler air on her bare body. She was beginning to anticipate the turn of weather for autumn after the inordinately hot summer. She put one toe into the tub, finding the water temperature cool. Perfect.
She eased into the water, sending small ripples to the sides of the tub, gentle sloshes that stilled almost immediately. She sunk to her neck, the water lapping at her chin, smelling of the scented oils.
She remained immobile for a few long moments, letting her mind sift through the day's events, of which there were few aside from work, and then leaned back to the tub edge and flipped her dampened hair over the side. She reached for the towel and dried her hands and then chose the first few papers off the stool top.
Her eyes skimmed the front page of the Seireitei Communication. A new update on Captain Ukitake's serialized novel, she noted with a nod. "Oh, and Vice-Captain Kira has an update on his novel, too," she murmured aloud. She turned a page to see a collection of haikus from Shuuhei.
"Talented fellow," she admitted, reading a few silently. "Who knew he had such a sensitive side under all those tattoos?"
She flipped a few pages, reading a brief passage in the scientific and medical pages before setting the paper aside nearly half an hour later. It was a Thursday edition, and mostly given to the arts and sciences, whereas the Tuesday editions -- the ones carrying her article series titled "Please Be Moderate" -- was more devoted to lifestyle and Divisions matters and had already come out for the week.
She set it on the floor near the tub and reached for the next bit of news, memos from the Division staff, and put those on top of the Communication after a cursory glimpse in favor of the last remaining piece of paper. She leaned her head against the back of the tub, the water cool around her, and opened the folded single sheet of paper. It took a few moments in the poor lighting of the overhead sink vanity light to realize what it was, and when she did she nearly tossed it unread onto the pile with the other papers.
But it wasn't fan fiction, not even a poem, as Shunsui had told her it was. Instead it was the piece of paper he'd left for her the night he'd wandered to her quarters after his long absence from the office that day in mourning over Renji's failed match the night before, the night Momo had delivered Shuuhei's application.
If it was a poem, it didn't rhyme, was her first thought. And then she ceased thinking and simply read.
"My dear Nanao," it began in her captain's scrawling characters, "it has come to my attention for some time now that you've ceased to be the little girl of Eighth Division, the girl who let me read to her on occasion so many years ago when your mentor went missing, the girl with the large violet eyes and inquiring mind.
"I've watched you work diligently in your studies, and apply yourself with such dedication I wanted no other as my lieutenant. But now you're a woman, Nanao, and I've come to appreciate so much more about you as I've learned more of you. You've held my heart for decades, and kept me at arm's length from your own," she murmured aloud, eyes fastened on the ink on the paper, her hand trembling slightly as she sat straighter in the tub.
"If there is any possibility you can open your heart to me, at any point in the future, I invite you to join me at Table Eight at the Soul Society Canteen. No commitment, sweet Nanao; all I ask is for your company. An open invitation, any Thursday evening.
"If there's no interest in such a meeting, I'll reluctantly accept that. Yours from the beginning, Shunsui."
Nanao stared at the letter, the last few words barely audible from her lips. She stood up in the tub, unaware of the water coursing down her, some of it splashing onto her towel on the floor.
It was Thursday. It had been Thursday all day, making it Thursday night now. In fact, every one of the last three weeks since he'd given the letter to her had had a Thursday, too.
She didn't have to see a clock to know the Canteen was closed for the night, and she didn't have to possess Division Four's knowledge of anatomy to know the pain burning in her chest was her heart.
Her hand lowered the letter as she sniffled, the other hand clasping over her eyes as they closed against the tears that suddenly formed behind her glasses.
"I'm sorry, Shunsui," she said softly.
Next Match: Live Wire
-- from x nihilo