Fic: Sunlight and Song (4/11)
Title: Sunlight and Song
Author: Venefican
Pairing: Nanao/Shunsui
Rating: PG
Summary: Ukitake and Nanao discuss the past, and she tries to solve her problems the Eleventh Division way. With a fight. Rediscovering her zanpakuto along the way.
4
Ukitake talks, and talks, and talks, pausing at times to cough and then wave away her concern. She almost wishes he would stop. Stop telling her all these things she half-knew, enough to know, but not enough to completely understand. A heavy ache settles in her bones within the first few minutes, a chill that seems to be restricted to her body. Utagawa hums rolling, rippling melodies in the back of her head.
She closes her eyes when he finally winds to an end, something terribly anti-climatic in his ‘and well, then there you were’.
Her voice rasps when she speaks, ‘Thank you, sir.’ She leans back on her hands, gazes through the pot, the fourth since the story began. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do yet. But at least now I can decide with the full facts in mind.’
Ukitake dips his head slightly, smiling just a little as he rises to his feet. ‘That is all I ask, Ise-san. But I might say this also.’
‘Sir?’
‘This may make you more kind towards Shunsui with your choice. But be kind to yourself, too.’
She smiles. ‘Thank you.’
He nods one more time, bows a little and pads out of the office.
Nanao stays where she is, locked in a staring contest with her cup. She isn’t even particularly sure what she should do with what Ukitake has told her. It might explain why Shunsui made his decision, might even explain why she reacted so violently against it with a rage she hasn’t felt in decades, yet Nanao has already made a choice. Not just burning her bridges so much as watching them fall and then dancing on the ashes.
‘It’s very unlikely to refill itself, Nanao-chan.’
‘Kyōraku-taichō!’ She thinks of adding ‘you’re not dead!’ but it’s very early in the morning and that would be ungracious, even for her. Instead: ‘The work for today is completed, sir. There are forms on your desk to be signed but they can wait until tomorrow.’
‘My industrious Nanao-chan...’ he pauses, pushes back his hat ‘...looks very tired.’
She lets the name slide; she doesn’t want a recreation of that argument. Not yet. Not in the middle of the office. ‘It has been a very long week, sir.’
‘Hm. I apologise for not being here.’
‘It’s probably best you weren’t, given that half of Gotei 13 has offered to kill you for me.’
‘I’d heard about that.’ He blinks, and she can hear the caution in his voice as he ventures, ‘Do I need to be grovelling, Nanao-chan? I can.’
She closes her eyes, just for a second. Allows herself to feel tired and battered and more than a little hurt. Just for a second, though. She smoothes her face out and shakes her head. ‘No, sir. It was merely Rangiku being herself.’
‘Ah, my lovely dramatic Ran-chan. In another life she would be gracing the stage.’
Well, she’s a good enough actress.
‘And is my dear Ran-chan well?’
Nanao glances at him underneath lowered eyelashes. She isn’t sure quite how much he has heard, doesn’t know how much he knows about the tragic tale of Ichimaru Gin. ‘She’s...She’s better than she was, sir.’ She can be honest; she can do that much for him. Glancing again, she risks, ‘She got off the battlefield, but she was having trouble finding her way back.’
‘Ah.’ If anyone understands, he does. He looks down at her, weary and kind and distant as a constellation. He’s back in a replacement pink haori. It doesn’t comfort her at all. ‘I’m sorry, again.’
‘It was fine, sir. Don’t worry. I know why you haven’t been here.’
He sounds pained. ‘Yama-jii. He was a touch angry, the old grouch.’
More than ‘a touch’, if the highly amused account from Ukitake bore any weight. ‘Well, that serves you right. As well as Zaraki and Kuchiki-taichō. Though I’m sure he had an infinitely better reason for losing his haori than you. You’re always so careless with it.’
‘Who...? Jyuu, that traitor.’
‘He found it funny, for what’s it worth. And I doubt a scolding from Yamamoto-soutaichō bothers you that much.’
‘Nanao-chan.’ That makes her stop, tilt her head back to try and catch his eyes. But his hat is at the right angle so that all she sees is shadow. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.’
He doesn’t specify. She doesn’t ask. They walk away from each other, each feeling like they had just missed something important.
Nanao breathes deeply, and goes to find Rangiku.
*
Her first sparring match in, what, weeks? Months? From what her muscles are telling her it could easily have been years.
She skipped out of the way of Haineko’s tip, blue fire flaring out from her fingers to stop Rangiku from pursuing her advantage. Who was the last person she had trained with? Ah yes, Kuchiki Rukia - the girl really did have an excellent grasp of kidō, higher level spells would come to her easily with time. A gleam of satisfaction. A good student.
She dodges Rangiku again, lightning sparking down the weapon, hissing and spitting like a cat.
Come to think of it, Rukia would have been seated years ago if not for the not inconsiderable influence of her brother. And her captain, still weighted down with old guilt. Gotei 13 seemed to have a hidden population of mother hens. Maybe Zaraki coddled the Eleventh when there was no one there to see it.
...hm
Well, maybe not all of Gotei 13, then. There’s a flicker nearby, a puff of shunpo and suddenly Rangiku is bearing down on her. Gods above and below, that woman is fast when she has a mind to be. Haineko is whipping out at her, and Nanao knows she will not be able to dodge or block with kidō, not at this distance, she’d kill both of them. She can see that same knowledge blooming in Rangiku’s eyes, the concentration quickly turning to panic.
‘Nanao!’
Her zanpakutō flashes out without a thought, meeting and locking with Haineko before she even realises what she’s done. Utagawa trills happily in her mind. They don’t usually think in words, soul-swords, unless they’ve been dragged out into the real world or their shinigami has entered the perfect state of meditation. But Nanao can feel the joy rolling through her from her blade, yammering pictures and impressions and emotions in a barrage of dizzy excitement, and she doesn’t need speech to understand what her zanpakutō wants her to know.
To be back again, in her Mistress’ hand, oh yes oh yes, after so so long to be released and wild and singing to anyone who can hear oh my Mistress, can’t you feel it like a river cutting its own way through a mountain, the freedom of voice and water?
The mad joy ringing inside her mind makes her smile, just a little, at how much her blade is like and yet unlike her. Rangiku blinks down at the short blade pushing Haineko towards the floor. ‘Well, I haven’t seen her in a while.’
Nanao rolls her eyes. ‘Just fight.’
Haineko flicks out again willingly enough, and the game of catch-me-if-you-can starts again.
‘Want to tell me what that was about?’
Much later, Nanao flicks the dirt off Utagawa before sheathing it, the scabbard disappearing up her sleeve and leaving only her sword-spirit’s lingering contentment in her mind. ‘What what was about?
‘I nearly took your head off because you weren’t paying attention.’ Rangiku gestures at her sleeve where her zanpakutō is tucked underneath, hidden against her skin. ‘I don’t usually drive you to having to defend with her.’
‘Oh.’ ‘Zaraki the mother hen’ is too undignified to put into words, so she decides on ‘Kaien.’
Rangiku blinks again, and then frowns down at her blade. Nanao doesn’t know what she took away from his death - if anything. Kaien had been part of a three-way tag team with a mission statement dedicated to making her ‘loosen up’, but Nanao couldn’t actually remember the Tenth and Thirteenth’s Vice-Captains ever being close.
But for a while, Nanao had felt the absence of Kaien and Miyako like a severed arm. For months afterwards the Thirteenth had been hushed and disturbingly tense. Ukitake ill and Rukia ostracized for an offence that for most of Seireitei was just a rumour. No matter Ukitake’s best attempts at protecting her. No matter Kaien would have stabbed himself through the heart before willingly harming his own people.
‘What about him?’
‘I miss him.’ Nanao folded her arms and tilted her head back into the sunlight. ‘Isn’t it odd? He drove me insane at the best of times, but I miss him all the same,’ she continued, a bit more dryly, ‘Maybe because he got his work in on time.’
‘Scandalous lies! I always turn my work in promptly!’
‘Promptly for what? Tectonic shifts?’
Rangiku huffs good-naturedly, slinging Haineko over her shoulder in perfect mimicry of Madarame as they walk back to the Eighth Division. They go into Nanao’s private quarters - the captain knows better than to attempt entry and she doesn’t need anyone listening in. Especially not now the recruits are building a very accurate idea of what happened between their commanding officers. Probably because of the Rangiku’s ‘duel for her honour’ stunt last week.
‘What brought this on? Missing Kaien?’
‘I was thinking about the way things used to be.’ Nanao breathes. This is it. ‘I wonder. If I should leave the Eighth.’
The sound of someone choking on tea told her exactly what Rangiku thought of that suggestion.
‘Wh-what?’
Nanao winces, thinks about all the places she would rather be right now - Rukongai, the Real World, the Nest of Maggots... - and looks straight across the table at her friend. ‘I think I need to explain to you.’ She swallows, hard.
‘What happened the night before you left.’
Onwards to Chapter 5
Author: Venefican
Pairing: Nanao/Shunsui
Rating: PG
Summary: Ukitake and Nanao discuss the past, and she tries to solve her problems the Eleventh Division way. With a fight. Rediscovering her zanpakuto along the way.
4
Ukitake talks, and talks, and talks, pausing at times to cough and then wave away her concern. She almost wishes he would stop. Stop telling her all these things she half-knew, enough to know, but not enough to completely understand. A heavy ache settles in her bones within the first few minutes, a chill that seems to be restricted to her body. Utagawa hums rolling, rippling melodies in the back of her head.
She closes her eyes when he finally winds to an end, something terribly anti-climatic in his ‘and well, then there you were’.
Her voice rasps when she speaks, ‘Thank you, sir.’ She leans back on her hands, gazes through the pot, the fourth since the story began. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do yet. But at least now I can decide with the full facts in mind.’
Ukitake dips his head slightly, smiling just a little as he rises to his feet. ‘That is all I ask, Ise-san. But I might say this also.’
‘Sir?’
‘This may make you more kind towards Shunsui with your choice. But be kind to yourself, too.’
She smiles. ‘Thank you.’
He nods one more time, bows a little and pads out of the office.
Nanao stays where she is, locked in a staring contest with her cup. She isn’t even particularly sure what she should do with what Ukitake has told her. It might explain why Shunsui made his decision, might even explain why she reacted so violently against it with a rage she hasn’t felt in decades, yet Nanao has already made a choice. Not just burning her bridges so much as watching them fall and then dancing on the ashes.
‘It’s very unlikely to refill itself, Nanao-chan.’
‘Kyōraku-taichō!’ She thinks of adding ‘you’re not dead!’ but it’s very early in the morning and that would be ungracious, even for her. Instead: ‘The work for today is completed, sir. There are forms on your desk to be signed but they can wait until tomorrow.’
‘My industrious Nanao-chan...’ he pauses, pushes back his hat ‘...looks very tired.’
She lets the name slide; she doesn’t want a recreation of that argument. Not yet. Not in the middle of the office. ‘It has been a very long week, sir.’
‘Hm. I apologise for not being here.’
‘It’s probably best you weren’t, given that half of Gotei 13 has offered to kill you for me.’
‘I’d heard about that.’ He blinks, and she can hear the caution in his voice as he ventures, ‘Do I need to be grovelling, Nanao-chan? I can.’
She closes her eyes, just for a second. Allows herself to feel tired and battered and more than a little hurt. Just for a second, though. She smoothes her face out and shakes her head. ‘No, sir. It was merely Rangiku being herself.’
‘Ah, my lovely dramatic Ran-chan. In another life she would be gracing the stage.’
Well, she’s a good enough actress.
‘And is my dear Ran-chan well?’
Nanao glances at him underneath lowered eyelashes. She isn’t sure quite how much he has heard, doesn’t know how much he knows about the tragic tale of Ichimaru Gin. ‘She’s...She’s better than she was, sir.’ She can be honest; she can do that much for him. Glancing again, she risks, ‘She got off the battlefield, but she was having trouble finding her way back.’
‘Ah.’ If anyone understands, he does. He looks down at her, weary and kind and distant as a constellation. He’s back in a replacement pink haori. It doesn’t comfort her at all. ‘I’m sorry, again.’
‘It was fine, sir. Don’t worry. I know why you haven’t been here.’
He sounds pained. ‘Yama-jii. He was a touch angry, the old grouch.’
More than ‘a touch’, if the highly amused account from Ukitake bore any weight. ‘Well, that serves you right. As well as Zaraki and Kuchiki-taichō. Though I’m sure he had an infinitely better reason for losing his haori than you. You’re always so careless with it.’
‘Who...? Jyuu, that traitor.’
‘He found it funny, for what’s it worth. And I doubt a scolding from Yamamoto-soutaichō bothers you that much.’
‘Nanao-chan.’ That makes her stop, tilt her head back to try and catch his eyes. But his hat is at the right angle so that all she sees is shadow. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.’
He doesn’t specify. She doesn’t ask. They walk away from each other, each feeling like they had just missed something important.
Nanao breathes deeply, and goes to find Rangiku.
*
Her first sparring match in, what, weeks? Months? From what her muscles are telling her it could easily have been years.
She skipped out of the way of Haineko’s tip, blue fire flaring out from her fingers to stop Rangiku from pursuing her advantage. Who was the last person she had trained with? Ah yes, Kuchiki Rukia - the girl really did have an excellent grasp of kidō, higher level spells would come to her easily with time. A gleam of satisfaction. A good student.
She dodges Rangiku again, lightning sparking down the weapon, hissing and spitting like a cat.
Come to think of it, Rukia would have been seated years ago if not for the not inconsiderable influence of her brother. And her captain, still weighted down with old guilt. Gotei 13 seemed to have a hidden population of mother hens. Maybe Zaraki coddled the Eleventh when there was no one there to see it.
...hm
Well, maybe not all of Gotei 13, then. There’s a flicker nearby, a puff of shunpo and suddenly Rangiku is bearing down on her. Gods above and below, that woman is fast when she has a mind to be. Haineko is whipping out at her, and Nanao knows she will not be able to dodge or block with kidō, not at this distance, she’d kill both of them. She can see that same knowledge blooming in Rangiku’s eyes, the concentration quickly turning to panic.
‘Nanao!’
Her zanpakutō flashes out without a thought, meeting and locking with Haineko before she even realises what she’s done. Utagawa trills happily in her mind. They don’t usually think in words, soul-swords, unless they’ve been dragged out into the real world or their shinigami has entered the perfect state of meditation. But Nanao can feel the joy rolling through her from her blade, yammering pictures and impressions and emotions in a barrage of dizzy excitement, and she doesn’t need speech to understand what her zanpakutō wants her to know.
To be back again, in her Mistress’ hand, oh yes oh yes, after so so long to be released and wild and singing to anyone who can hear oh my Mistress, can’t you feel it like a river cutting its own way through a mountain, the freedom of voice and water?
The mad joy ringing inside her mind makes her smile, just a little, at how much her blade is like and yet unlike her. Rangiku blinks down at the short blade pushing Haineko towards the floor. ‘Well, I haven’t seen her in a while.’
Nanao rolls her eyes. ‘Just fight.’
Haineko flicks out again willingly enough, and the game of catch-me-if-you-can starts again.
‘Want to tell me what that was about?’
Much later, Nanao flicks the dirt off Utagawa before sheathing it, the scabbard disappearing up her sleeve and leaving only her sword-spirit’s lingering contentment in her mind. ‘What what was about?
‘I nearly took your head off because you weren’t paying attention.’ Rangiku gestures at her sleeve where her zanpakutō is tucked underneath, hidden against her skin. ‘I don’t usually drive you to having to defend with her.’
‘Oh.’ ‘Zaraki the mother hen’ is too undignified to put into words, so she decides on ‘Kaien.’
Rangiku blinks again, and then frowns down at her blade. Nanao doesn’t know what she took away from his death - if anything. Kaien had been part of a three-way tag team with a mission statement dedicated to making her ‘loosen up’, but Nanao couldn’t actually remember the Tenth and Thirteenth’s Vice-Captains ever being close.
But for a while, Nanao had felt the absence of Kaien and Miyako like a severed arm. For months afterwards the Thirteenth had been hushed and disturbingly tense. Ukitake ill and Rukia ostracized for an offence that for most of Seireitei was just a rumour. No matter Ukitake’s best attempts at protecting her. No matter Kaien would have stabbed himself through the heart before willingly harming his own people.
‘What about him?’
‘I miss him.’ Nanao folded her arms and tilted her head back into the sunlight. ‘Isn’t it odd? He drove me insane at the best of times, but I miss him all the same,’ she continued, a bit more dryly, ‘Maybe because he got his work in on time.’
‘Scandalous lies! I always turn my work in promptly!’
‘Promptly for what? Tectonic shifts?’
Rangiku huffs good-naturedly, slinging Haineko over her shoulder in perfect mimicry of Madarame as they walk back to the Eighth Division. They go into Nanao’s private quarters - the captain knows better than to attempt entry and she doesn’t need anyone listening in. Especially not now the recruits are building a very accurate idea of what happened between their commanding officers. Probably because of the Rangiku’s ‘duel for her honour’ stunt last week.
‘What brought this on? Missing Kaien?’
‘I was thinking about the way things used to be.’ Nanao breathes. This is it. ‘I wonder. If I should leave the Eighth.’
The sound of someone choking on tea told her exactly what Rangiku thought of that suggestion.
‘Wh-what?’
Nanao winces, thinks about all the places she would rather be right now - Rukongai, the Real World, the Nest of Maggots... - and looks straight across the table at her friend. ‘I think I need to explain to you.’ She swallows, hard.
‘What happened the night before you left.’
Onwards to Chapter 5