Remembering the Innocence, chapters 1-3
Author's Note:
This is not a new fic, so I do apologize if you've already seen it on the bleach-yaoi community. I somehow missed this one when I transferred my stories to this LJ journal, so here it is.
This is actually my first attempt at writing a pairing other than Shuuhei x Renji, and also when I realized that I love writing Juushiro. :D
Author: honey_mellon
Title: Remembering the Innocence
Rating: R
Pairing: Ukitake Juushiro, Urahara Kisuke
Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't expect from an R-rated yaoi fiction
Summary: Juushiro remembers the awkward, nervous gait of the blonde former shinigami when he was first promoted as a captain. The man had been young, almost innocent-looking, then. But now, hardened by decades of exile, Urahara Kisuke is anything but innocent.
COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
The Winter War was over. Finally, Aizen had been defeated and sealed away, and shall remain so for as long as Soul Society still exists. Seireitei, however, was still coming to terms with its casualties, the painful cost of the war. Every division in the Gotei 13 had lost people; good, brave warriors who gave their lives to protect and defend Soul Society and the world of the living. It would be a long, difficult path to recovery, but Ukitake Juushiro believed that they will, one day, look back to this day and feel proud of themselves, of the people who had sacrificed their lives to secure the future.
How ironic, though, that the person who ultimately took down Aizen was the one man that Soul Society had banished more than a century ago. An outcast, a brilliant scientist, former captain; Urahara Kisuke had been the most critical key to their victory in the war. Given, he was the man who invented the hogyoku in the first place, but despite the treatment he had received from Soul Society, he remained an ally and fought by their side.
The new Center 46 had lifted the restrictive order on the man, and he was now free to enter Soul Society if he wishes to, but Juushiro knew that Urahara Kisuke would not take up the offer to return to the Gotei 13. He was now a free man, why would he want to be bound to such an old, stifling organization again?
"Ah, so many years have passed, and you still have the same faraway look in your eyes, senpai," a smooth, melodious voice interrupted Juushiro's thoughts. The white-haired captain turned to find the very man he was thinking about standing behind him, watching him with curious eyes and an upturned mouth.
"Kisuke-san," Juushiro said warmly. "Old people tend to look like that."
Kisuke laughed. "You have not changed one bit," he commented, taking in the older captain's long white hair, lean and graceful frame, and boyish eyes.
Juushiro noted the movement of the younger man's eyes, and surprised himself by feeling a slight flush on his own face. "And you've grown up," he replied, his voice laced with a touch of pride.
If Kisuke had noticed Juushiro's blush, he did not show it, nor did he protest the playful jab. Instead, he simply looked away and stared into the expansive lake before which they stood. The surface of the water gleamed under the evening sun, as if every sparkle of light was a promise, a promise of a better tomorrow. Juushiro found himself looking at the face of the man now standing next to him.
Juushiro remembered the awkward, nervous gait of the blonde former shinigami when he was first promoted as a captain. The man had been young, almost innocent-looking, then. But now, hardened by decades of exile, Urahara Kisuke was anything but innocent. Juushiro ached to lift the striped hat off and run his fingers through the shock of blond hair, to look deeply into those intelligent eyes, to assure Kisuke that he can trust him, that Juushiro would not abandon him like the rest of Gotei 13 had last time. Yet, as he looked into that guarded face, he knew that it would be a long, long time before Kisuke would ever allow himself to open his heart to believe anyone again.
"I know you fought for us," Kisuke said quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful.
The sudden unspoken display of gratitude caught Juushiro by surprise. Yes, he had fought for them. Back when Hirako Shinji, Muguruma Kensei, and the others were first discovered as unknown hybrids of shinigami and hollow, back when Central 46 wanted to execute them, Juushiro had pleaded for their pardon. As had Kisuke. But their pleas were stubbornly denied, which ultimately led to the Vizards' escape and Kisuke's exile.
"I only wish I could've done more," Juushiro whispered, remembering the anguish from a century ago.
The younger man chuckled under his breath. Juushiro heard a hint of wistfulness, perhaps a little regret, and even guilt in that one soft sound. "Trust me, you have done enough." He lifted a hand to adjust his hat as he peered across the lake, as if he wanted to see what's beyond it. His brows furrowed against the sunlight despite the hat.
"My cottage is just a few minutes' walk away," Juushiro found himself saying. "The cold air is, I'm afraid, not good for me." He tried to sound nonchalant, fully expecting that Kisuke to decline the subtle invitation.
To his surprise, the blonde-haired man turned to him with a smile. "I wouldn't mind a cup of tea," he said.
Was it Juushiro's imagination, or was that a small glint of delight and relief in the man's eyes? "Certainly," Juushiro said, and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. Pulling his hat lower-so low that Juushiro could no longer see his eyes, Kisuke nodded and followed.
As the sun cast its final rays onto the smooth surface of the water, the two men walked.
The room was silent except for the soft gurgling of boiling water, but the silence was soothing, comforting, even. Juushiro looked out through the window into the darkened sky and gave a contented sigh.
"Relieved that it's finally over?" Kisuke broke the silence.
"Yes," Juushiro replied, then took a sip from his tea cup. Looking up with an arched eyebrow, he asked, "Aren't you?"
Kisuke chuckled softly. "It is anything but over, Ukitake-taicho." He leaned back against the smooth wall in Juushiro's cottage. "Trouble continues to brew, senpai. We just don't know when it will hit us."
Juushiro sighed at the younger man's cynical view. "Kisuke-san," he said after a pause. "Such is the cycle of life. We just have to stay strong through it all." He threw a sidelong glance at Kisuke; his hair was matted and messy now that the hat was finally taken off, his face partially covered with blond stubble. His gaze was calm, but Juushiro could see a touch of sadness tugging at the corner of those grey eyes.
"Always the optimist, senpai," Kisuke said. He paused for a long time, as if unsure of what to say next. Just as Juushiro thought of offering him more tea, he finally said, "It has been a long time since I've been here."
"Yes." Juushiro gently tipped the teapot to refill their cups. "How is it, living out there?" he asked carefully, watching the younger man's face for any sign of discomfort. He suspected that no one had dared to bring up this subject with Kisuke, but he was curious.
For a fleeting moment, Kisuke's eyes darkened. Then, he broke into a big grin. "Exciting," he said, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes evident. "Ahhh...Karakura town, it gets all the action. What do you expect, with Kurosaki there and all."
Juushiro brought his cup to his mouth and inhaled the calming aroma of green tea. "Indeed," he said with a smile, thinking of the stubborn, hot-blooded orange-haired boy. "They're lucky that they have you there."
Kisuke cocked an eyebrow and looked at the white-haired captain in amusement. Are you kidding me?
Juushiro could see the unspoken question in the man's eyes, and he burst out in hearty laughter. His laughter eventually tapered off into breathy pants as his lungs struggled to keep up with the sudden exertion. For a moment, Kisuke looked as if he was going to rush to Juushiro's side, then, remembering that the older man did not like to be treated like a patient, he retracted his arm and sank back down on his heels.
Juushiro chuckled softly as he regained control of his breath. "I will live," he said finally. Kisuke's brows relaxed, and he leaned back against the wall once more.
Silence overcame the little cottage again, and for a while the two men simply sat there. A light breeze blew in through the window, and Juushiro watched as a few stray strands of blond hair became plastered on Kisuke's cheek. Once again, Juushiro was suddenly reminded of the man's younger days, when he had cared more about the scientific research in his lab than keeping up his appearance. On some days, the former 12th division captain would walk around with his haori inside-out, much to his lieutenant's chagrin. Back then, Kisuke looked more like an academy student than a full fledged captain; young, full of ambitions, and easy-going with his subordinates. In fact, he remembered a story Hirako told a long time ago, about how Kisuke allowed himself to take a hit from Hiyori-
Suddenly realizing that he had been staring, Juushiro snapped out of his thoughts, only to stare into a pair of questioning grey eyes. Juushiro felt a sudden rush of heat on his neck and cheeks.
"Is something wrong?" Kisuke asked, rubbing his hand on his face. "Something on my face?"
Feeling sheepish, Juushiro busied himself with his teacup. "Nothing, just recalling some old memories."
"Ah." Kisuke fell silent after that, but Juushiro thought he caught a brief narrowing of eyes. Clearly the man did not appreciate talking about old times.
"You made a fine captain, Kisuke-san," Juushiro said, choosing his words carefully.
There, those eyes narrowed again, this time not so subtly. "I'm afraid my sentiments about those times...differ quite drastically from yours, Ukitake-taicho," Kisuke said, his voice tight. Juushiro sensed the tension in the younger man's body, his reiatsu radiating a silent warning. Do not talk to me about that again.
Juushiro ignored it. He refused to let this man rob himself of his own merits. "You must look past the thorns and see the flower, Kisuke-san," he said gently.
Across the low table, Kisuke bristled for a split second, then he was all smiles again. Juushiro sighed inwardly. How ironic, he thought sadly. All this time we were so preoccupied with hollows and their masks...
Juushiro swallowed a mouthful of tea, swirling his tongue to savor the slightly bitter, grassy flavor of the hot liquid. He glanced at the blond-haired man and opened his mouth to speak, then suddenly, his eyes widened and his brows furrowed as he felt an oncoming bout of coughing fit. His hand flew instinctively to his mouth as his windpipe seized up. His vision blurred and the world swam in and out of darkness as his shoulders shook. His stomach ached as fierce, dry coughs racked his body until he tasted the familiar metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.
He vaguely heard a voice calling out his name and speaking, but he was too far gone, his mind too exhausted to process the words. He felt his shoulders enveloped by strong, warm hands, but all he could do was wheeze and cough. Warm blood flooded his mouth; he tried to hold it in but his facial muscles were too weak. A warm trickle escape his lips, over his fingers, and down his chin. Breathe. I can't...breathe.
Then, suddenly, it was over. He sagged forward, limbs trembling, chest ablaze. He braced himself for the painful fall to the floor that he always experienced when he collapses after these coughing fits, but noted through a haze of pain that...he did not fall.
Oh. How warm.
Then, there was darkness.
Don't worry, I won't kill off Juushiro! ;)
There was brightness; flickering, soft light, swimming in and out of focus in front of his eyes. Wincing at the tightness of his throat, Juushiro blinked. He was surprised to find himself on his back, immediately recognizing the familiar softness of his own mattress.
"Senpai."
Blinking again to clear his vision, Juushiro turned to see Kisuke sitting cross-legged next to his bed. The blond-haired man did not say anything else, but Juushiro saw a gleam of relief in those grey eyes.
"How long..." Juushiro's voice came out raspy, his throat dry and sore from coughing. His mouth held the bitter aftertaste of dried blood. Before he could ask for water, a pair of hands brought a cup to his mouth. He looked up gratefully at Kisuke, who simply smiled at him in encouragement. Sitting up, Juushiro wrapped his trembling fingers around the small cup, sighing at the comforting warmth in his hand.
"One hundred years, and they haven't cured you," Kisuke said dryly.
Juushiro sipped in silence, letting the strong taste of herbs wash away the last traces of the disgusting, metallic tang of blood from his mouth. He smiled inwardly at Kisuke's thoughtfulness and wondered how the man knew to use this tea; he always kept a tin of this on his shelf specially for these...occasions, and he was under the impression that only his old friend, Shunsui, knew about it.
As if he could read Juushiro's mind, Kisuke glanced towards the kitchen. "I assumed you would be well prepared," he said. "You were out for just a little over half an hour."
"I'm sorry for the trouble," Juushiro said apologetically as he placed the tea cup on the floor.
"Nonsense," Kisuke said, waving his hand dismissively. I'm glad you're okay.
Feeling self-conscious, Juushiro's hand went to his face to wipe his mouth, but to his surprise, his hand came away clean. In fact, his hand was clean; there was not a single spot of blood on his pale, graceful fingers.
"I hope you don't mind..." Kisuke said, his face suddenly boyish from awkwardness. He gestured to a small bucket against the wall, a piece of blood-smeared cloth lay folded on the rim.
Juushiro blushed, and his fists clenched subconsciously. Why am I always such a bother to people around me? he thought, more than a little frustrated. He was a powerful and much revered captain, but whenever his illness struck, he was as helpless as a child, and he hated that with a passion. His cheeks burned even more as he realized that his robe, too, was spotless; it appeared that Kisuke had explored more than the kitchen.
"I'm so sorry," Juushiro said, his voice trembling slightly. Pathetic. I'm such a-
Kisuke moved closer and laid a reassuring hand on the older man's shoulder. "Please," he said gently. "There is nothing to apologize for."
So warm, Juushiro marveled. Kisuke's palm was...surprisingly smooth for someone who was so skilled a swordsman. Perhaps he had not used his sword much after... His heart ached a little. What else have we stripped from this man?
Kisuke's touch lingered for just a heartbeat longer, then he reached for the tea cup. "I'll get you more tea," he said. Juushiro watched as the man stood up and walked to the kitchen. His steps were graceful but firm, his lean frame radiating a sense of confidence that was reassuring yet foreign to Juushiro. Why am I so surprised? Juushiro chided himself. After all, this was the man who groomed Kurosaki Ichigo, the man who set up the Tenka Kecchu, and the only man powerful enough to seal away Aizen. I need to stop thinking of him as the gangly, quiet young man that he was.
Juushiro smiled as the blonde returned to hand him a full cup of tea. "Do you need to leave? Don't let me keep you," Juushiro said, aware that it must be well into the night by now.
"I'm not in a hurry," Kisuke said, sitting back down and crossed his legs. He looked around the room, taking in the simple decoration and potted plants. "This is a very relaxing place," he commented.
"Yes," Juushiro agreed. "Unfortunately for my subordinates, I tend to spend more time resting here than being at the office as I should."
Kisuke chuckled good-naturedly. "I see the adoration in their eyes when they look at you," he said, referring to the 3rd and 4th seats in Juushiro's division.
"Ah, Kiyone and Sentaro," Juushiro said fondly. "They will be death of me." Despite his words, his eyes lit up at the thought of his loyal subordinates.
"You are fortunate," Kisuke replied. He rested an elbow on his thigh and placed his cheek against the open palm.
Juushiro noted the faraway look in the younger man's eyes and wondered what was going on in that brilliant mind. But in a blink of an eye, those grey eyes became alert and bright once more. Are you secretly reminiscing after all, Kisuke? Juushiro's eyes wandered to Kisuke's clothes and noticed for the first time how similar it was to a captain's haori. Coincidence?
Lost in his thoughts, Juushiro's eyes became half-lidded, and he suddenly realized that he was bone-tired. It was always like this after an attack; he usually required two or three days' rest before he could get back on his feet. Feeling dispirited at his own condition, he breathed a soft sigh.
"You should sleep," Kisuke said, uncurling his legs to stand up.
Juushiro sat up and grimaced when he felt his sleeping kimono stick to his skin, damp from the cold sweat he must have shed during the attack. "Not before I take a bath," he said, making a face.
He propped himself up on his palms and attempted to stand up. He smiled triumphantly when he managed to lift his upper body off the mattress. But, as he began to put his weight on his legs, they suddenly folded under him, and he toppled backwards.
Once again he felt his shoulders enveloped by a pair of strong hands as Kisuke caught him. Juushiro's cheeks colored in shame, and he clenched his jaw in frustration. Weak! Pathetic!
Gently laying Juushiro back down on his mattress, Kisuke gave the captain a reassuring squeeze on the shoulders before standing up. Juushiro watched inquiringly as the man picked up the small bucket by the wall and disappeared into the bathroom. Suddenly realizing what this meant, Juushiro's cheeks flared. Surely he doesn't intend to-
To be continued...
This is not a new fic, so I do apologize if you've already seen it on the bleach-yaoi community. I somehow missed this one when I transferred my stories to this LJ journal, so here it is.
This is actually my first attempt at writing a pairing other than Shuuhei x Renji, and also when I realized that I love writing Juushiro. :D
Author: honey_mellon
Title: Remembering the Innocence
Rating: R
Pairing: Ukitake Juushiro, Urahara Kisuke
Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't expect from an R-rated yaoi fiction
Summary: Juushiro remembers the awkward, nervous gait of the blonde former shinigami when he was first promoted as a captain. The man had been young, almost innocent-looking, then. But now, hardened by decades of exile, Urahara Kisuke is anything but innocent.
COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
The Winter War was over. Finally, Aizen had been defeated and sealed away, and shall remain so for as long as Soul Society still exists. Seireitei, however, was still coming to terms with its casualties, the painful cost of the war. Every division in the Gotei 13 had lost people; good, brave warriors who gave their lives to protect and defend Soul Society and the world of the living. It would be a long, difficult path to recovery, but Ukitake Juushiro believed that they will, one day, look back to this day and feel proud of themselves, of the people who had sacrificed their lives to secure the future.
How ironic, though, that the person who ultimately took down Aizen was the one man that Soul Society had banished more than a century ago. An outcast, a brilliant scientist, former captain; Urahara Kisuke had been the most critical key to their victory in the war. Given, he was the man who invented the hogyoku in the first place, but despite the treatment he had received from Soul Society, he remained an ally and fought by their side.
The new Center 46 had lifted the restrictive order on the man, and he was now free to enter Soul Society if he wishes to, but Juushiro knew that Urahara Kisuke would not take up the offer to return to the Gotei 13. He was now a free man, why would he want to be bound to such an old, stifling organization again?
"Ah, so many years have passed, and you still have the same faraway look in your eyes, senpai," a smooth, melodious voice interrupted Juushiro's thoughts. The white-haired captain turned to find the very man he was thinking about standing behind him, watching him with curious eyes and an upturned mouth.
"Kisuke-san," Juushiro said warmly. "Old people tend to look like that."
Kisuke laughed. "You have not changed one bit," he commented, taking in the older captain's long white hair, lean and graceful frame, and boyish eyes.
Juushiro noted the movement of the younger man's eyes, and surprised himself by feeling a slight flush on his own face. "And you've grown up," he replied, his voice laced with a touch of pride.
If Kisuke had noticed Juushiro's blush, he did not show it, nor did he protest the playful jab. Instead, he simply looked away and stared into the expansive lake before which they stood. The surface of the water gleamed under the evening sun, as if every sparkle of light was a promise, a promise of a better tomorrow. Juushiro found himself looking at the face of the man now standing next to him.
Juushiro remembered the awkward, nervous gait of the blonde former shinigami when he was first promoted as a captain. The man had been young, almost innocent-looking, then. But now, hardened by decades of exile, Urahara Kisuke was anything but innocent. Juushiro ached to lift the striped hat off and run his fingers through the shock of blond hair, to look deeply into those intelligent eyes, to assure Kisuke that he can trust him, that Juushiro would not abandon him like the rest of Gotei 13 had last time. Yet, as he looked into that guarded face, he knew that it would be a long, long time before Kisuke would ever allow himself to open his heart to believe anyone again.
"I know you fought for us," Kisuke said quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful.
The sudden unspoken display of gratitude caught Juushiro by surprise. Yes, he had fought for them. Back when Hirako Shinji, Muguruma Kensei, and the others were first discovered as unknown hybrids of shinigami and hollow, back when Central 46 wanted to execute them, Juushiro had pleaded for their pardon. As had Kisuke. But their pleas were stubbornly denied, which ultimately led to the Vizards' escape and Kisuke's exile.
"I only wish I could've done more," Juushiro whispered, remembering the anguish from a century ago.
The younger man chuckled under his breath. Juushiro heard a hint of wistfulness, perhaps a little regret, and even guilt in that one soft sound. "Trust me, you have done enough." He lifted a hand to adjust his hat as he peered across the lake, as if he wanted to see what's beyond it. His brows furrowed against the sunlight despite the hat.
"My cottage is just a few minutes' walk away," Juushiro found himself saying. "The cold air is, I'm afraid, not good for me." He tried to sound nonchalant, fully expecting that Kisuke to decline the subtle invitation.
To his surprise, the blonde-haired man turned to him with a smile. "I wouldn't mind a cup of tea," he said.
Was it Juushiro's imagination, or was that a small glint of delight and relief in the man's eyes? "Certainly," Juushiro said, and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. Pulling his hat lower-so low that Juushiro could no longer see his eyes, Kisuke nodded and followed.
As the sun cast its final rays onto the smooth surface of the water, the two men walked.
The room was silent except for the soft gurgling of boiling water, but the silence was soothing, comforting, even. Juushiro looked out through the window into the darkened sky and gave a contented sigh.
"Relieved that it's finally over?" Kisuke broke the silence.
"Yes," Juushiro replied, then took a sip from his tea cup. Looking up with an arched eyebrow, he asked, "Aren't you?"
Kisuke chuckled softly. "It is anything but over, Ukitake-taicho." He leaned back against the smooth wall in Juushiro's cottage. "Trouble continues to brew, senpai. We just don't know when it will hit us."
Juushiro sighed at the younger man's cynical view. "Kisuke-san," he said after a pause. "Such is the cycle of life. We just have to stay strong through it all." He threw a sidelong glance at Kisuke; his hair was matted and messy now that the hat was finally taken off, his face partially covered with blond stubble. His gaze was calm, but Juushiro could see a touch of sadness tugging at the corner of those grey eyes.
"Always the optimist, senpai," Kisuke said. He paused for a long time, as if unsure of what to say next. Just as Juushiro thought of offering him more tea, he finally said, "It has been a long time since I've been here."
"Yes." Juushiro gently tipped the teapot to refill their cups. "How is it, living out there?" he asked carefully, watching the younger man's face for any sign of discomfort. He suspected that no one had dared to bring up this subject with Kisuke, but he was curious.
For a fleeting moment, Kisuke's eyes darkened. Then, he broke into a big grin. "Exciting," he said, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes evident. "Ahhh...Karakura town, it gets all the action. What do you expect, with Kurosaki there and all."
Juushiro brought his cup to his mouth and inhaled the calming aroma of green tea. "Indeed," he said with a smile, thinking of the stubborn, hot-blooded orange-haired boy. "They're lucky that they have you there."
Kisuke cocked an eyebrow and looked at the white-haired captain in amusement. Are you kidding me?
Juushiro could see the unspoken question in the man's eyes, and he burst out in hearty laughter. His laughter eventually tapered off into breathy pants as his lungs struggled to keep up with the sudden exertion. For a moment, Kisuke looked as if he was going to rush to Juushiro's side, then, remembering that the older man did not like to be treated like a patient, he retracted his arm and sank back down on his heels.
Juushiro chuckled softly as he regained control of his breath. "I will live," he said finally. Kisuke's brows relaxed, and he leaned back against the wall once more.
Silence overcame the little cottage again, and for a while the two men simply sat there. A light breeze blew in through the window, and Juushiro watched as a few stray strands of blond hair became plastered on Kisuke's cheek. Once again, Juushiro was suddenly reminded of the man's younger days, when he had cared more about the scientific research in his lab than keeping up his appearance. On some days, the former 12th division captain would walk around with his haori inside-out, much to his lieutenant's chagrin. Back then, Kisuke looked more like an academy student than a full fledged captain; young, full of ambitions, and easy-going with his subordinates. In fact, he remembered a story Hirako told a long time ago, about how Kisuke allowed himself to take a hit from Hiyori-
Suddenly realizing that he had been staring, Juushiro snapped out of his thoughts, only to stare into a pair of questioning grey eyes. Juushiro felt a sudden rush of heat on his neck and cheeks.
"Is something wrong?" Kisuke asked, rubbing his hand on his face. "Something on my face?"
Feeling sheepish, Juushiro busied himself with his teacup. "Nothing, just recalling some old memories."
"Ah." Kisuke fell silent after that, but Juushiro thought he caught a brief narrowing of eyes. Clearly the man did not appreciate talking about old times.
"You made a fine captain, Kisuke-san," Juushiro said, choosing his words carefully.
There, those eyes narrowed again, this time not so subtly. "I'm afraid my sentiments about those times...differ quite drastically from yours, Ukitake-taicho," Kisuke said, his voice tight. Juushiro sensed the tension in the younger man's body, his reiatsu radiating a silent warning. Do not talk to me about that again.
Juushiro ignored it. He refused to let this man rob himself of his own merits. "You must look past the thorns and see the flower, Kisuke-san," he said gently.
Across the low table, Kisuke bristled for a split second, then he was all smiles again. Juushiro sighed inwardly. How ironic, he thought sadly. All this time we were so preoccupied with hollows and their masks...
Juushiro swallowed a mouthful of tea, swirling his tongue to savor the slightly bitter, grassy flavor of the hot liquid. He glanced at the blond-haired man and opened his mouth to speak, then suddenly, his eyes widened and his brows furrowed as he felt an oncoming bout of coughing fit. His hand flew instinctively to his mouth as his windpipe seized up. His vision blurred and the world swam in and out of darkness as his shoulders shook. His stomach ached as fierce, dry coughs racked his body until he tasted the familiar metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.
He vaguely heard a voice calling out his name and speaking, but he was too far gone, his mind too exhausted to process the words. He felt his shoulders enveloped by strong, warm hands, but all he could do was wheeze and cough. Warm blood flooded his mouth; he tried to hold it in but his facial muscles were too weak. A warm trickle escape his lips, over his fingers, and down his chin. Breathe. I can't...breathe.
Then, suddenly, it was over. He sagged forward, limbs trembling, chest ablaze. He braced himself for the painful fall to the floor that he always experienced when he collapses after these coughing fits, but noted through a haze of pain that...he did not fall.
Oh. How warm.
Then, there was darkness.
Don't worry, I won't kill off Juushiro! ;)
There was brightness; flickering, soft light, swimming in and out of focus in front of his eyes. Wincing at the tightness of his throat, Juushiro blinked. He was surprised to find himself on his back, immediately recognizing the familiar softness of his own mattress.
"Senpai."
Blinking again to clear his vision, Juushiro turned to see Kisuke sitting cross-legged next to his bed. The blond-haired man did not say anything else, but Juushiro saw a gleam of relief in those grey eyes.
"How long..." Juushiro's voice came out raspy, his throat dry and sore from coughing. His mouth held the bitter aftertaste of dried blood. Before he could ask for water, a pair of hands brought a cup to his mouth. He looked up gratefully at Kisuke, who simply smiled at him in encouragement. Sitting up, Juushiro wrapped his trembling fingers around the small cup, sighing at the comforting warmth in his hand.
"One hundred years, and they haven't cured you," Kisuke said dryly.
Juushiro sipped in silence, letting the strong taste of herbs wash away the last traces of the disgusting, metallic tang of blood from his mouth. He smiled inwardly at Kisuke's thoughtfulness and wondered how the man knew to use this tea; he always kept a tin of this on his shelf specially for these...occasions, and he was under the impression that only his old friend, Shunsui, knew about it.
As if he could read Juushiro's mind, Kisuke glanced towards the kitchen. "I assumed you would be well prepared," he said. "You were out for just a little over half an hour."
"I'm sorry for the trouble," Juushiro said apologetically as he placed the tea cup on the floor.
"Nonsense," Kisuke said, waving his hand dismissively. I'm glad you're okay.
Feeling self-conscious, Juushiro's hand went to his face to wipe his mouth, but to his surprise, his hand came away clean. In fact, his hand was clean; there was not a single spot of blood on his pale, graceful fingers.
"I hope you don't mind..." Kisuke said, his face suddenly boyish from awkwardness. He gestured to a small bucket against the wall, a piece of blood-smeared cloth lay folded on the rim.
Juushiro blushed, and his fists clenched subconsciously. Why am I always such a bother to people around me? he thought, more than a little frustrated. He was a powerful and much revered captain, but whenever his illness struck, he was as helpless as a child, and he hated that with a passion. His cheeks burned even more as he realized that his robe, too, was spotless; it appeared that Kisuke had explored more than the kitchen.
"I'm so sorry," Juushiro said, his voice trembling slightly. Pathetic. I'm such a-
Kisuke moved closer and laid a reassuring hand on the older man's shoulder. "Please," he said gently. "There is nothing to apologize for."
So warm, Juushiro marveled. Kisuke's palm was...surprisingly smooth for someone who was so skilled a swordsman. Perhaps he had not used his sword much after... His heart ached a little. What else have we stripped from this man?
Kisuke's touch lingered for just a heartbeat longer, then he reached for the tea cup. "I'll get you more tea," he said. Juushiro watched as the man stood up and walked to the kitchen. His steps were graceful but firm, his lean frame radiating a sense of confidence that was reassuring yet foreign to Juushiro. Why am I so surprised? Juushiro chided himself. After all, this was the man who groomed Kurosaki Ichigo, the man who set up the Tenka Kecchu, and the only man powerful enough to seal away Aizen. I need to stop thinking of him as the gangly, quiet young man that he was.
Juushiro smiled as the blonde returned to hand him a full cup of tea. "Do you need to leave? Don't let me keep you," Juushiro said, aware that it must be well into the night by now.
"I'm not in a hurry," Kisuke said, sitting back down and crossed his legs. He looked around the room, taking in the simple decoration and potted plants. "This is a very relaxing place," he commented.
"Yes," Juushiro agreed. "Unfortunately for my subordinates, I tend to spend more time resting here than being at the office as I should."
Kisuke chuckled good-naturedly. "I see the adoration in their eyes when they look at you," he said, referring to the 3rd and 4th seats in Juushiro's division.
"Ah, Kiyone and Sentaro," Juushiro said fondly. "They will be death of me." Despite his words, his eyes lit up at the thought of his loyal subordinates.
"You are fortunate," Kisuke replied. He rested an elbow on his thigh and placed his cheek against the open palm.
Juushiro noted the faraway look in the younger man's eyes and wondered what was going on in that brilliant mind. But in a blink of an eye, those grey eyes became alert and bright once more. Are you secretly reminiscing after all, Kisuke? Juushiro's eyes wandered to Kisuke's clothes and noticed for the first time how similar it was to a captain's haori. Coincidence?
Lost in his thoughts, Juushiro's eyes became half-lidded, and he suddenly realized that he was bone-tired. It was always like this after an attack; he usually required two or three days' rest before he could get back on his feet. Feeling dispirited at his own condition, he breathed a soft sigh.
"You should sleep," Kisuke said, uncurling his legs to stand up.
Juushiro sat up and grimaced when he felt his sleeping kimono stick to his skin, damp from the cold sweat he must have shed during the attack. "Not before I take a bath," he said, making a face.
He propped himself up on his palms and attempted to stand up. He smiled triumphantly when he managed to lift his upper body off the mattress. But, as he began to put his weight on his legs, they suddenly folded under him, and he toppled backwards.
Once again he felt his shoulders enveloped by a pair of strong hands as Kisuke caught him. Juushiro's cheeks colored in shame, and he clenched his jaw in frustration. Weak! Pathetic!
Gently laying Juushiro back down on his mattress, Kisuke gave the captain a reassuring squeeze on the shoulders before standing up. Juushiro watched inquiringly as the man picked up the small bucket by the wall and disappeared into the bathroom. Suddenly realizing what this meant, Juushiro's cheeks flared. Surely he doesn't intend to-
To be continued...