Curiosity #11
un.chained.
The Gotei 13 Captain’s haori was considered to be one of the most notable fashion icons in all of Soul Society. Just as well-known as the kenseikan and the noble family crests. It was one of the luxuries Sereitei bestowed upon its beloved commanders that kept them safe. It wasn’t just the fact that it was made out of the purest and finest silk or that it was specifically tailored to each captain. To wear these haoris meant prestige, respect, privilege, wealth. Power.
And here she was wrapped in one, the physically weakest she’d ever been and meanwhile figuratively chained to Kisuke Urahara’s bed. Her Kuchiki sense of decorum was screaming at her to get up, respectfully hang the haori in the closet and get out of there as fast as possible like she had several weeks ago. But, she knew if she got up her wounds would most likely suffer. And Ni-sama and Ukitake-taicho would be worried. And she wouldn’t be able to lecture Ichigo later when he got hurt and did something rash. At least, those were the only reasons she would allow her self to think upon.
She exhaled softly and nestled into the pillow. Since she had regained consciousness yesterday, it had been Tessai and Ururu who had tended to her wounds. They were the ones who were insistent that she wear the haori, even if she knew the orders came from elsewhere. At the time, she had been too weak to put up a proper argument and had half-deliriously agreed. Still, it was odd that the true occupant of the “Castle” hadn’t dropped by to seduce her again or at least to gloat. Tessai had muttered something about the boss being busy with Chad and Ichigo.
The sound of footsteps interrupted the room’s silence.
Really, she had been lucky so far. His absence had allowed a wonderful reprieve for her to gather her scattered thoughts after Hueco Mundo. And she was at least now mostly healed.
The door opened and in stepped Kisuke with a small roll of fresh bandages in his hand. He grinned at her, eyes gleaming under his hat.
“Good afternoon, Kuchiki-san. I’ve come to inspect your wounds.”
Naturally, the only articles of clothing underneath the haori were her bandages and a pair of underwear. Before it was Ururu who had helped with such a private thing while Tessai had kindly busied himself with her medicine in the other room. Her mouth suddenly dried and she knew that Urahara wouldn’t be giving her such allowances.
He sat the bandages on the nearby bed stand and sank down onto the bed. “Relax, Kuchiki-san. I’m only going to do the last bit of healing, besides it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” He grinned that same old lecherous grin.
Rukai just huffed and rose gingerly as she carefully parted the haori over her stomach. His hands went to her bandages and he slowly began to unravel them.
“You know,” He said softly, leaning into her ear. “When we went in to get you guys, I almost thought you were dead.” He lightly stroked the first scar.
“Hm, no more Hougyoku carrier?”
He tossed the hat somewhere in the room and looked her in the eye. “It’s never been that way.”
Rukia sighed. “Kisuke-”
“I already apologized to you when you first got back, Rukia. Though, I’d do it a hundred more times if it’d help.”
Rukia gazed into the stupid soft green eyes, resolve starting to break. “I don’t believe you.” She whispered.
The Kuchiki in her was yelling at her somewhere in the back in her mind to get out oof there. Now.
But, then his hands began to stroke the places where the haori still draped her body and that cocky flirtatious grin came across his features.
And in his most sincere, pleading tone he said, “Allow me to convince you.”
She did.
The Gotei 13 Captain’s haori was considered to be one of the most notable fashion icons in all of Soul Society. Just as well-known as the kenseikan and the noble family crests. It was one of the luxuries Sereitei bestowed upon its beloved commanders that kept them safe. It wasn’t just the fact that it was made out of the purest and finest silk or that it was specifically tailored to each captain. To wear these haoris meant prestige, respect, privilege, wealth. Power.
And here she was wrapped in one, the physically weakest she’d ever been and meanwhile figuratively chained to Kisuke Urahara’s bed. Her Kuchiki sense of decorum was screaming at her to get up, respectfully hang the haori in the closet and get out of there as fast as possible like she had several weeks ago. But, she knew if she got up her wounds would most likely suffer. And Ni-sama and Ukitake-taicho would be worried. And she wouldn’t be able to lecture Ichigo later when he got hurt and did something rash. At least, those were the only reasons she would allow her self to think upon.
She exhaled softly and nestled into the pillow. Since she had regained consciousness yesterday, it had been Tessai and Ururu who had tended to her wounds. They were the ones who were insistent that she wear the haori, even if she knew the orders came from elsewhere. At the time, she had been too weak to put up a proper argument and had half-deliriously agreed. Still, it was odd that the true occupant of the “Castle” hadn’t dropped by to seduce her again or at least to gloat. Tessai had muttered something about the boss being busy with Chad and Ichigo.
The sound of footsteps interrupted the room’s silence.
Really, she had been lucky so far. His absence had allowed a wonderful reprieve for her to gather her scattered thoughts after Hueco Mundo. And she was at least now mostly healed.
The door opened and in stepped Kisuke with a small roll of fresh bandages in his hand. He grinned at her, eyes gleaming under his hat.
“Good afternoon, Kuchiki-san. I’ve come to inspect your wounds.”
Naturally, the only articles of clothing underneath the haori were her bandages and a pair of underwear. Before it was Ururu who had helped with such a private thing while Tessai had kindly busied himself with her medicine in the other room. Her mouth suddenly dried and she knew that Urahara wouldn’t be giving her such allowances.
He sat the bandages on the nearby bed stand and sank down onto the bed. “Relax, Kuchiki-san. I’m only going to do the last bit of healing, besides it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” He grinned that same old lecherous grin.
Rukai just huffed and rose gingerly as she carefully parted the haori over her stomach. His hands went to her bandages and he slowly began to unravel them.
“You know,” He said softly, leaning into her ear. “When we went in to get you guys, I almost thought you were dead.” He lightly stroked the first scar.
“Hm, no more Hougyoku carrier?”
He tossed the hat somewhere in the room and looked her in the eye. “It’s never been that way.”
Rukia sighed. “Kisuke-”
“I already apologized to you when you first got back, Rukia. Though, I’d do it a hundred more times if it’d help.”
Rukia gazed into the stupid soft green eyes, resolve starting to break. “I don’t believe you.” She whispered.
The Kuchiki in her was yelling at her somewhere in the back in her mind to get out oof there. Now.
But, then his hands began to stroke the places where the haori still draped her body and that cocky flirtatious grin came across his features.
And in his most sincere, pleading tone he said, “Allow me to convince you.”
She did.