pocketsfullof | Rise and Shine

[Kyouraku's last clear memory is of Karakura Town - of lying in the rubble with Katen Kyokotsu still gripped tightly in his hands, choking on the smell of smoke and of his own blood. There had been a dozen reiatsu signals demanding his attention but he had only been seeking one - Ukitake's - flickering in and out. Each time it had faded he'd reached for it and found it again. until the sky had exploded in an inferno of flame and everything had faded to black.

Since then, he remembers little - just a sickening sense of drowning - of clawing his way to the surface of consciousness only to be sucked down again. Half the time, he's certain that he's caught in another illusion of Aizen's, and even in his more lucid moments, where he's aware of his surroundings, he can't tell if it's real.

He's convinced himself a hundred times that she is dead - that they are all dead; that Retsu is lying to him every time he asks - he had forgotten how many times - and that Katen Kyokotsu is lying too; that Retsu is under Aizen's control; that each time he feels Jyuushiko's reiatsu flare at the edge of his awareness before burning out again, it's gone forever.

He has tried, more than once, to pull out the needle which he can feel constantly pressing into a vein, or to escape the cool touch of Retsu's hand that inevitably plunges him back into the void. Not that it's done him any good, since he's weak enough that Minazuki's presence alone can hold him while Retsu works, the disapproving weight of her zanpakutou pressing in on him until the strongest protest he can muster is a murderous glare.

Now, he surfaces for what feels like the thousandth time, expecting to see a sky streaked grey and seared with flame; to feel dust and ash filling his lungs when he inhales and heat blistering his skin. Instead there is a curtain of green, sun-warmth dappling his face through the branches of a cherry tree in full bloom. Katen Kyokotsu is kneeling, his head in her lap and the indigo silk of her furisode pooling around them. Covering him is a blanket of flowers, their perfumes mingling in the soft breeze that stirs the leaves above his head.

When he reaches up to touch her she just smiles and catches his wrist, holding it as manicured fingers pull out the needle and peel off the tape that holds it in place. Her touch is ice cold, unlike Retsu's, and her skin carries with it the scent of flowers and damp earth.

It is time to wake, aruji. She is waiting for you.

A finger against his lips forestalls anything he might say in reply and she bends her head to kiss his forehead, dark hair falling like a shroud across his face and the the chill of her lips on overheated skin making him shudder.

This time, when he opens his eyes, it's to the blank, white-washed ceiling of Fourth and the sense of Jyuushiko's reiatsu, faint but steady.]

Ukitake.

[When he turns his head to look it's more of an effort than it should be, and the wave of nausea that follows makes him regret it almost instantly.]

Edited 2010-08-08 21:41 (UTC)

[The wave of relief that washes over her is almost palpable in her reiatsu. She hadn't been allowed to see him before today, and watching him lie there, ashen and covered in bandages had done little to forestall her fears. But that one word, soft as it is, is enough to wipe it all away.

She leans forward a little, enough that she can reach out and lay a soft touch on his arm - a slightly more physical reminder that yes, she is is here, and they are both still living, that this isn't another fever-dream. There's a tired smile on her face, which is reflected in her voice, as well.]

I'm here, Shun. Glad you could join us again.

[At the touch, he closes his eyes for a few moments until the dizziness passes, half-expecting to find that it's yet another illusion. But he can still feel Jyuushiko's fingers cool against his arm; sense her reiatsu overlapping his and in his head there is an amused but silent affirmation from Katen Kyokotsu.

There's more determination when he opens his eyes again, and a half smile at her words that would usually be accompanied by a lazy shrug, save that he's in no position to manage one.]

I like to make an entrance.

[She looks tired and a little too thin, although he doubts that he looks a great deal better, if how he feels is anything to go by.]

Katen told me you were waiting.

[Her smile turns into a grin at his words. He's coherent enough to joke, and that's always a good thing. If Shunsui can joke, they'll pull through all of this somehow.

She nods slightly at his second statement.]

Not for too long, but...I'm glad Retsu let me in, today.

Retsu...

[He can still feel Unohana's kidou - strengthened by Minazuki - smothering his own power like a blanket; blocking his ability to sense much at all beyond the walls of the room itself. It's standard practice for Unohana to place a kidou shield around the rooms of all Captains and Vice Captains when they're confined to Fourth - he knows that - but to Kyouraku it still feels like a slow suffocation. The depths of panic and paranoia that he had felt in the midst of the fever dreams abruptly make more sense, and he lifts a hand to rest over Jyuushiko's, frowning quietly as he slides his fingers between hers.]

I owe her an apology, I think. Several, possibly.

[There's a momenmt of hesitation then; an unwillingness to venture into subjects that he has neither seen nor considered outside of the warped hallucinations and certainties that he is no longer sure even occurred.

He looks away from Jyuushiko when he asks.]

Aizen. Is he dead?

[The wry smile fades a little as she gives his hand a small squeeze.]

Probably, yes. She's had a lot on her shoulders.

[And Jyuu knows it's taking a greater toll on her friend than Retsu will ever let on, that she's forcing herself to stand strong while they can't. Her smile is enough to fool the other captains - but not Jyuushiko.

There's a short pause as she steadies herself before answering his question. She knows he'll still be able to hear the pain in her voice at the reminder of others lost, but it's enough that she can keep herself together for now.]

Aizen is dead.

[He doesn't know what he expected to feel, but there's no elation at her answer - no satisfaction in the knowledge that Aizen is gone or any real sense that a weight has been lifted from Seireitei. Kyouraku has lived too long to believe that Aizen does not have his sympathisers, even now - that somewhere, his ambition will not become a symbol for others to follow.

The dip in Jyuushiko's reiatsu and the pain in her voice registers distantly, his mind too occupied with a thousand new possibilities for betrayal. He returns the reassuring pressure on her fingers briefly and almost without thinking about it, before Katen Kyokotsu pulls him up short.

You are not listening.

To underline her point she follows the words with an abrupt memory of crushing emptiness - an echo of what he had felt each time he sensed Jyuushiko's reiatsu flicker out of his reach. And that brings with it another memory - of the sky above him exploding in fire and heat just before he had slipped into unconsciousness in Karakura Town.]

Yama-jii.

[It takes two attempts to sit up, the change in position triggering another wave of dizziness and a searing pain in his chest. The bandages that swathe his torso are tight enough that he can barely breathe until he swings his feet down to the floor.

I did not wake you so that you could make yourself sick again, baka. Minazuki is watching.]

[She doesn't try to rise, doesn't even meet his eyes as she speaks, voice shaky]

Sensei is... is dead too, Shunsui.

[She had cried when Retsu had told her, clinging to her friend until she was coughing blood again, but while her voice cracks, she doesn't cry now. Her reiatsu is a dark storm, though, focused inwards - she has gleaned enough to know how her mentor died, and she blames herself - for not paying close enough attention, for not getting that little blond Arrancar before he got her.]

[His first instinct is to laugh - to deny it - to argue - to point out the impossibility of Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni ever dying, and especially not by the hand of someone like Sousuke Aizen.

His second is to reach out with all his senses, seeking for that overwhelming and yet reassuring power that has been there as long as Shunsui cares to remember; the first person who had looked at him and seen more than the spoiled younger son of the Kyouraku family; the perfect blending of man and zanpakutou that no one else has yet - or will likely ever - achieve.

But the shield that is wrapped heavily around his room blocks any such attempt, and Jyuushiko's stubborn refusal to meet his eyes - the way her voice cracks over the words - is evidence enough that she is not lying.

Ryuujin Jakka has fallen. There is no emotion evident from Katen Kyokotsu, just a blank statement of inevitablity. And belatedly - dammit, Retsu - he feels the force of Jyuushiko's own reiatsu, turning inwards in a storm of anger that his is still too weak to counter.]

Jyuu... don't.

[He doesn't quite trust himself to stand, yet. Even if he could and even with Jyuushiko's depleted reiatsu - in his present condition, the force of it in the confines of the small infirmary room would be enough to keep him in check.

Instead he holds out a hand, and he can't tell if he's shaking or if it's just a blurring of his vision that has nothing to do with fever.]

[The motion in her field of vision is enough to draw her out of her half-trance, and she glances up at him. She's not crying, but she can't quite hide the mix of fear and anger in her expression. There' a short, half-surprised blink, and then she takes his hand in one her own - shaking slightly, but still firm. She doesn't pull herself out of the chair with it - she knows trying would probably send both Shunsui and herself topppling, but she uses it to steady herself as she rises, wincing slightly as half-healed muscles tense.

It's only a step or two between the chair and bed, and she makes it easily enough, sitting down at Shunsui's side. She wants to lean up against him, but she doesn't - she knows he's in worse shape than she is, right now. So instead it's a arm draped lightly around the small of his back as she glanced back down towards the floor again.]

I should've been paying attention.

[There is no such hesitation from Shunsui. He has believed her dead so many times - believed that she was gone and that he would never see her again; never feel her reiatsu slip inito place beside his own; never touch her, smell her hair or taste her skin.

He throws his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and turning his head to bury his face in her hair. It's not really an attempt to hide the tears that he can feel burning behind his own eyelids. Trying to do so in the face of the oppressive chill and pressure of her reiatsu would be a wasted effort and besides, there's no shame in them and nor is it anything that Jyuushiko has not seen before. It's more that he wants - no, needs - to remind himself that she is alive. That they are both alive.

His other arm slips lightly round her waist, and he can feel the bandages under her gown that are wrapped as tightly as his own. His fingers trace over them gently.]

We both should.

I'm sorry, Ukitake.

Edited 2010-08-11 15:31 (UTC)

[She doesn't pull away from the touch - truth be told, she wants it as much as he does. But being the one who's doing better has never been easy for her - it's not a role she's used to, and particularly here, she's worried about pushing things too far.

As she rests, shoulder to shoulder with him, She reaches her hand up, tracing the ridge of his spine lightly. There's the briefest pause, a slight tensing of muscles in anticipation as his questing fingers reach the edge of the half-healed scar, but she relaxes again when there's no pain.]

Don't blame yourself, Shun.

[His fingers halt their exploration the instant that Jyuushiko's breath stills and her muscles contract under his touch. Her hesitation is clear enough even without the ability to closely read her reiatsu - the tentative hand on his back enough of a message in itself.

He doesn't argue with her words - he doesn't have the energy - although he knows that it was his error; his failure. She had not let herself be distracted by Starrk's Resurreccion form, and yet he had been too busy watching the garganta to protect her as she had protected him.

There's a long moment in which Shunsui doesn't move; doesn't speak - just breathes in the scent of her hair, now damp from his tears. It's entirely selfish, and he knows it - her physical presence as reassuring to him right now as her reiatsu alone would normally be. A moment more, and he pulls her closer with as much strength as he has left before letting his hand fall away from the bandages and releasing her entirely.]

Yama-jii would say-

[There's a forced lightness to his tone but he doesn't finish the sentence, and he's grateful for the fact that his hair is unbound and uncombed.]

I should have used bankai.

Edited 2010-08-18 03:14 (UTC)

[When he pulls back, she does too, a little - she has no wish to hurt him, and if her touch is bothering his injuries, well, she won't do it, then.

She presses a small kiss to his shoulder, and then shifts slightly so that she's brushing up against his side, but not resting her weight against him at all. Still, even that light touch is reassuring.]

What, so Aizen could have killed you as well?

[There's a harsh edge to her voice, but underneath that, there's the shakiness that comes with fear. She knows how much Shun hates using his bankai, and knows that against Aizen, it would have been suicide.]

[It's almost too much to contemplate: the Gotei without its Soutaichou - the only Soutaichou it had ever known, who had created it from whole cloth and the remnants of what had once been little more than a ceremonial guard functioning only at the whim of the noble families. Even the knowledge that Ukitake is alive, here - that he can feel the warmth of her against him - is not enough to put aside the knowledge that he had failed. He had failed, and someone had died.]

It was my duty to protect him, Ukitake... it was my duty to protect you.

[The anger in his voice is barely contained, and his fingers curl into fists against the urge to hit something, anything. He had disobeyed an order - hesitated when the Old Man had told them to stand firm - told himself there was time when there had been none.

She is right. We could not defeat the Mirrored One. He was too strong.

Katen Kyokotsu's refusal to use the name of Aizen's blade is not new - her contempt born of a resentment that one zanpakutou would deceive another. But to his knowledge, she has never admitted a weakness save for against Ryuujin Jakka - even facing Sakanade's abilities two centuries ago, she had displayed little more than mild amusement.

For me, or for you?

A hesitation then, before she replies.

It is the same.

...You've always been a bad liar.

He looks down at his hands, still shaking, and the sudden desire for sake - for enough alcohol to drink himself back into unconsciousness is sharp enough to be painful.]

If I had been able to weaken him... I didn't even try...

Edited 2010-10-09 13:31 (UTC)

[Even with Retsu's kidou barrier, and her own seriously depleted spiritual energy, she can still feel the shift in his, the familiar darkness of anger rearing it's ugly head - and she doesn't have the power to counteract it like she usually does, to use her power as a buffer of protection.

Instead, for how, she places her hand over one his shaking ones, cementing their physical contact a little more, as she cannot do the same with her reiatsu right now.]

Damnit, Shun...

[Her voice cracks a little on the words, a mixture of frustration and sadness.]

If this is your fault, it's mine too. Don't shoulder this yourself.

[And she knows he will, if given the opportunity. She knows he blames himself for not standing up a little more a century ago, when he first had his doubts about Aizen. Nevermind that she had been the one to convince him it was nothing - that darker side of him, well-hidden from most of others, was a little more visible to her.]

[The touch of her hand - light as it is - reminds him that he is not alone; that this is not the time to indulge in self-recrimination. There will be time for that later - for wishing he could change the past, or escape it entirely. For wondering if it had been fear that had kept him from using his bankai the moment that Ichigo had broken the illusion.

Right now, he can hear the grief in Jyuushiko's voice and he focuses on that, with another silent curse at the kidou shield and the drugs that he can feel draining his energy as fast as he can summon it. Disengaging his hand from hers, he shifts slightly so that he can slip an arm around Jyuushiko's waist, though he makes no attempt to pull her in closely.]

I have broader shoulders than you, Jyuu. And you've always been too forgiving.

[It's an effort to sort through the fever dreams; to remember what was true and what was nothing more than a product of the drugs and the delirium. But there's a faint remembrance there of Ise Nanao's reiatsu, cool and controlled on the surface but with an undercurrent of distress that had frightened him at the time; of Retsu's quiet voice ordering her out. He lifts his head slightly to address Minazuki, who he is certain is still listening.]

If Nanao-chan is still here, you can tell her that her Taichou is ready to hear her report today.

[Then, more quietly, he looks back at Jyuushiko, and this time there's no attempt to hide his face from her.]

What about Kuchiki?

[One hand comes up to rest lightly on top of the one at her waist - even though he doesn't pull her in closer, she shifts a little bit anyway. Careful not to lean on him, still, but he's warm, and even that light physical touch is a comfort.

When he mentions Rukia, she breaks eye contact, glancing down at their matched hands in her lap. It's hard enough to push on a smile when her lieutenant is in the room, to tell Retsu that she doesn't mind Rukia visiting, to pretend seeing the girl like this doesn't hurt every single time - but she can't hide it front of Shunsui as well.]

Physically? She's fine. Emotionally...

[She trails off, and then takes a breath before continuing, shakily.]

Byakuya-san... is dead.

[She'd butted heads plenty of times with the proud young noble, but beneath it all, he was a good man. He didn't deserve this. None of them did. And to see that loss reflected in Rukia's eyes every time she came to visit, the way she had seen the loss of Kaien a decade before was heartbreaking.

[He can't help the sharp intake of breath at that, or push away the renewed wave of anger. Anger at Aizen, for deliberately manipulating the Gotei into a position where a defensive war had become inevitable - and anger at himself, for not preventing it; for allowing himself to be manipulated a century ago.

How many?

The question is only in his head - addressed to Katen, not to Jyuushiko. He can't bring himself to ask it aloud, half afraid of the answer and of forcing Ukitake to say the words.

Tenken. Gegetsuburi. Kubikiri Orochi.

The list is shorter than he feared, but still painful to hear. For Kyouraku, even one lost is too many, but five... Katen's sorrow echoes through his soul despite the emotionless tone of her voice and he doesn't answer her - he doesn't have to - his own grief rushing up to meet hers in a whirlwind that brings with it a sickening sense of vertigo and earns him a sharp nudge of warning from Minazuki.

He makes no immediate attempt to speak, or to answer any of them, simply tightening his hold around Jyuushiko's waist and half-turning, despite the pain of half-healed wounds, to rest his cheek against her hair.]

She's not alone this time, Ukitake.

[Her shoulders slump a little - a part of her wants to rely on his strength, right now. Not something she does often - she'd rather stand on her own - but over the centuries, at the bleakest moments, he's been there for her. It's a favor she's returned a few times herself, too - but right now, both of them are spent, physically and emotionally. They'll have to get through this one on their own - hold together until everything else is stable enough. It's a daunting prospect.]

I know, but...watching her come in, and then leave again... I can't-

[Her voice cracks, and she stops, taking a few shaky breaths until she's more or less in control again.]

I can't do anything right now.

[Shunsui is silent while she speaks, making no attempt to answer until he knows she's done. He doesn't interrupt even when her voice cracks and the fluctuations in her reiatsu puncture the weak fog of his own.

There's another attempt to summon the tatters of his own spiritual pressure, but even as he gathers it he can feel it slipping away through his fingers, damped down by Minazuki and the lingering effects of Unohana's kidou-reinforced medication. He doesn't release Jyuushiko or move his head from wher it rests against hers, but he looks over at the polished wooden chest in the corner of the room and at the two blades that are laid out neatly on the closed lid.

I know you broke the rules once already today, beautiful. But please ask them to stop. She needs me whole.

To Jyuushiko he just sighs, his breath stirring her hair gently and his eyes closing with a slight frown.]

Stop it, Jyuu. This isn't something you can fix.

[There's a long pause then, and his mind flickers back to Aizen, briefly - to Yama-jii and the others - but he pushes the thought away as fast as it appears.]

You're alive. Kuchiki is alive. Give her time. That's all.

[She smiles slightly - though it's a sad smile, and Shunsui can't see it. But it bleeds into her tone of voice a little.]

You know me - I hate being useless.

[And she hates how much this reminds her of the time after Kaien's death - she's more lucid now than she was then, though weaker. But she can still remember the moments in between the fever-hallucinations, of Rukia coming in to visit with that same cold, dead look in her eyes. Rukia doesn't deserve what the world has thrown at her in her short life so far, and Ukitake desperately wishes she could make it better.]

[A quiet hum and his expression softens slightly, the tone of his voice more rueful than teasing when he answers her.]

No you don't.

Most people hate it when they can't do anything. You hate it when you can't do everything. There is a difference, you know.

[A pause as he considers Rukia's situation, and then he shakes his head, the frown etching itself again between his brows.]

Ginrei-sama will make sure that she's protected from the family, at least. But maybe you should send her to the Living World for a while, just to be safe. Abarai won't have the time to watch her like he normally would.

[He doesn't say any more for a while, his mind running over the remaining seven captains. Seven. In little less than a year they had lost almost half of their strength and even in his current state, Kyouraku is well aware of the danger. He had debated it with the Old Man before the war - before they had known for certain what kind of a threat Aizen would bring to bear on the white walls of Seireitei. Had asked if it was a mistake to send divisions to fight who had no captain to follow. If it was wise to expect a vice captain to lead when you showed no confidence in their ability to do so. If it was dangerous to enter a conflict with reduced strength when the Central 46 was still in disarray.

Still, Yamamoto had remained steadfast - had told him that the war would prove who was fit to wear the haori better than any test - that if the Gotei failed, then Seireitei would be lost, and Kyouraku had accepted it, despite his own misgivings. But now Yama-jii was gone, and Byakuya and Komamura too. Now six divisions lacked a captain, not just three - and the Gotei itself lacked a leader - a decisive force in times of crisis. And Shunsui knows the noble houses of Seireitei well enough to be certain that even now, that weakness will not have gone unnoticed - that before the Gotei even has time to mourn its dead, there will be secret meetings taking place and alliances forming that have everything to do with power, and little to do with protection.

He also knows that it's been well over a century since Jyuushiko was naive enough to believe otherwise and despite a renewed desire to just drink himself back into oblivion there's another soft sigh against her hair.]

You'd better tell me everything, Ukitake.

[She sighs softly, and then pauses for a moment, doing her best to compose herself so she doesn't break down - or start coughing. Her thumb traces abstract patterns on the back of Shunsui's hand while she speaks.]

Hitsugaya-taichou and Soifon-taichou are taking most of the burden of administration, even though neither are fully recovered. Retsu is doing what she can, but... I'm afraid she's stretching herself too thin, and that she won't let anyone see until it's too late.

[A little hypocritical, when she's done the same damned thing time after time, but she worries about Retsu]

Ise-san is also doing a great deal - she's one of the few still largely physically and emotionally whole, and organization has always been her strong point. As for the other vice-captains...I'm not sure. Some are holding together better than others.

[They've all dropped by at one point or another to say hello, the smiles looking more or less forced depending on the person. It's hard to get a sense of how things are from such brief encounters, though, and she feels isolated from the flow of things.]

[He mulls over the information, the soft tracking of her thumb against his skin distracting him from his internal thoughts and keeping his mind focussed firmly on the present.

Hitsugaya and Soi Fong - Kyouraku likes them well enough, but he's well aware that neither of them are acceptable candidates for Soutaichou. In his heart of hearts, he doesn't believe that anyone could replace the Old Man - that anyone would even try - but even so... The Gotei cannot afford to be without a leader - a leader that the noble houses would acknowledge as an equal.

Exhaling the thought in a quiet hum, he tightens his grip on her waist for the briefest moment. Ukitake has always been fond of the Tenth Division Captain, but he's too exhausted to find his way through a more tactful approach.]

It's possible that Hitsugaya might become Soutaichou one day - likely, even - if he lives long enough to overcome his youthful tendency to act without thinking. But for now he's just a child prodigy from Rukongai to most of the noble heads.

And Soifon... you and I both know how the Central 46 would treat that suggestion, even in their present state - and the rank and file would never accept an onmitsukidou as their Captain-Commander.

[There's a heavy edge to his voice at that - if the truth were told, he's in agreement with them on that point. Shunsui has never entirely trusted the special forces, even under Yoruichi - his tendency to know more than he should having brought him more unpleasant rumors about their activities than he cares to share, even with Ukitake.

But his tone lightens at the mention of Nanao, and he allows himself a brief smile against Jyuushiko's hair that is both genuine and warm.]

I wouldn't expect anything less of my Nanao-chan.

[She offers him a slight smile at that - she knows his pride in the younger woman]

I know.

[The smile fades fast, and she sighs. She knows he's right, on both counts - she's very fond of Toushirou, but even compared to the other captains, he was still just a child, one who's talent had perhaps pushed him up faster than was good for one so young. And Soifon... skilled, certainly, but not cut out to be a leader.]

It's only temporary, until we recover. Then they'll appoint someone new. Probably Retsu or you.

[She knows it's not likely to be her - between her illness and having enrolled at the academy under false records, she's had enough strife about just retaining her captaincy. And, to be entirely honest, even if they were to offer her the position...she's not sure she would want it.]

[He sits up a little straighter at that, startled into blinking as he looks down at Jyuushiko.]

Not me, Ukitake. I'm not good at setting an example - unless it's a bad one. And besides...

[There's a slight hesitation there, because he knows he's been caught - not quite in a lie, but at least an omission - and his tone is half-wary, half-resigned when he speaks again. It's not as if he ever expected that the question would arise, after all.]

... I guess I never did get around to having my name officially removed from the Kyouraku list of succession.

[He doesn't bother to elaborate on that - Jyuushiko knows that there's no chance that the noble houses of Seireitei would accept the head of a family as the leader of the Gotei Thirteen, nor anyone who had even a chance of succession. The fear of shinigami and their zanpakutou becoming used as a private army in a bid for power was too great.

The Central 46 had never dared to argue openly with Yama-jii ...and there's a stutter of grief there at the thought of his Sensei which Shunsui closes his eyes against... or question his ability to keep the affairs of the Yamamoto house separate from those of the Gotei. But even then there had been little faith to speak of, and Shunsui knows as well as anyone that there were times that thin thread of trust had been worn almost to breaking.]

[A hoarse, slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up from inside her at that particular revelation. Of course Shunsui had 'forgotten' - nevermind that he never forgot anything without deliberately meaning to, contrary to what many of the other captains might believe. The laughs turn into coughs, predictably, and her free hand comes up to cover her mouth. She can taste a bit of blood - enough to get a talking-to from Retsu later, though she hopes the older woman will let her stay a while longer.

When she could breathe again, she gave him a small, wry smile.]

It figures. I suppose it'll be Retsu, then - and I think she'll murder us both for it.

[At her unexpected response there's a brief, surprised grin that dissolves almost as immediately as it appears when the laugh turns into a fit of staccato coughing.

After the fever-dreams, the sound of it rakes across his senses - he's never found Ukitake's bouts of illness less than nerve-wracking to deal with, despite the passage of time. And now, with the fresh memory of feeling her reiryoku flutter and fad to nothing, over and over again... Abruptly, the fear is as deep and painful as it had been the first time, back at the Academy, when he had watched with horror as his room-mate coughed up more blood than Shunsui had believed it was possible for a living soul to lose.

He shifts position again - enough that he can support her body with his - grunting at but otherwise disregarding the fresh pain as bandages rub against on burned skin and the jarring that comes with each cough.

There's no attempt to speak - he doesn't trust his voice to remain steady or his mind to form words that make any sense. And for the first time since he woke he's half-grateful for his depleted spiritual power - for the fact that neither his fear nor the relief when the fit subsides are obvious to Jyuushiko.

Lowering his eyes when she looks back at him, he conjures up the ghost of a smile, lifting a hand to brush a thumb softly against her cheek.]

I doubt that, Ukitake. I've never known Retsu to allow her healing to go to waste.

[The feel of him at her back, supporting her, is a familiar one, one she's missed the last few weeks. Retsu's company, in the short bursts it comes in, is comforting, but it's not quite the same. She doesn't miss those small grunts of pain, though, and guilt stabs through - she didn't want to make things worse for him.

But, as usual, she hides it behind a smile, because it's all she can muster.]

Well. I'm sure she'll find another way to make our lives hell.

[There's a lugubrious sigh at that, though it's tempered by the tired, but still affectionate smile that accompanies it.]

I'm sure she won't have to look too hard - we've given her plenty of opportunity to practice, after all.

[For a few moments he doesn't say any more, attention apparently absorbed in tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. But his mind is elsewhere, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again.]

There is another candidate, Ukitake.

You know that the Kyouraku house, at least, would recognise you. I still have some influence with them over Gotei affairs - and my brother may be many things, but he's no fool. Soul Society needs a strong Gotei as much as it needs government, and he knows it.

[His hand strays to her hair - gently pulling one of the loose strands through his finger and thumb. She almost doesn't feel real to him - none of it feels real - compared to the vivid fever dreams of the past few days...

...Or had it been weeks? It suddenly occurs to Kyouraku that he has not asked how much time has passed since the battle in the Karakura Town Construct, and he knows better than to try and judge by the healing of his wounds. In two thousand years he can't recall anyone in Seireitei being subjected to the brunt of Ryuujin Jakka's full release.

[He meets her eyes for a moment - not to seek permission, but to reassure her that it's more than just an automatic gesture - then dips his head slightly to press his lips against hers.

It's the briefest of kisses, and there's the faint taste of blood that he knows well enough - but it's enough to drown out the fear which lingers on in the back of his mind in the wake of her coughing.]

Though... if they make you my Soutaichou, I suppose I'll have even more work to do and even less of a say in the bedroom.

Edited 2011-01-30 19:12 (UTC)

[She doesn't tense, or shy away from this touch - no injuries there to be careful of, just a feeling she's been missing these past few weeks. Retsu may be one of her dearest friends, but Retsu doesn't touch her like this. Shunsui has always been good about it - careful, but he doesn't touch her like he's afraid she might break.

A soft, pleasured sigh escapes, and she's almost too lost in the physical sensation to listen to what he's saying. She leans into the kiss, the slightest push back against his lips to show that yes, she knows this is more than just habit, and she agrees.

After she pulls away, though, she lets out a slightly more frustrated sigh.]

Kyouraku might - and Ukitake and Shiba both would, of course - not that Kuukaku-sama has much say any more - but they wouldn't be able to get the council to recognize it. I'm going to have enough trouble just holding on to my captaincy after this stint of medical leave.

[It's fleeting, but even that slight pressure in return for the kiss is enough to banish pain and the exhaustion for a moment or two. He cups her cheek with his hand, and regards her with gentle amusement.]

It's not like you to underestimate yourself, Jyuu. Especially in a fight.

[The rejoinder is quietly teasing - in the best part of two millennia, Kyouraku can hardly recall a day when she has not stubbornly challenged either her own limits or those imposed by others. More than once, he has wryly accused her of trying to turn his hair white too, and more than once has received an elbow in his ribs for the trouble.]

Without the Central 46, it's down to the noble houses alone. And while they may not vote in your favour, do you really think that Shihouin would stand against you? Or even Kuchiki, if Ginrei retains control. Unohana will back you if Retsu stands down - they're long-sighted enough to see that there's no better candidate.

Yamamoto, I think, will vote according to their conscience, and it's no secret that Yama-jii thought of you almost as a daughter... unless that's just something he liked to say when he knew I was listening.

[His lips curve in the faintest of smiles at the last, though the loss of the man who had been his sensei for so long is too raw and recent a wound for even Kyouraku to gloss over.]

Even if they wanted to take your captaincy, my friend, they have no one to promote in your place. If they had they would have made a move already. The noble houses lack subtlety, and Retsu isn't here all the time.

[Another smile to accompany his words, this one darker than the last.]

If they lose Thirteenth, then they lose Eighth as well. And if they try to take it by force, I'll kill them.

[There's the faintest hint of a flush - both at the touch, and at the compliments. Shunsui always brings out the best - and on very rare occasions - the worst in her. The smile she gives one is a little tentative, not quite perfect around the edges - Yamamoto was still a hard name to hear right now - but it's a smile nonetheless.]

If I have another coughing fit trying to shout reason into them, I'm telling Retsu it was your fault.

[There's a small surge of worry - that the possibility is even on the table for someone to go that far in opposition to her, but she hides it under the smile]

I'm not sure if I should be honored or worried that you'd kill for me.

[Under normal circumstances, the faint blush and the smile would only serve to encourage him further. There's little that Kyouraku enjoys more than prompting a reaction, and especially from a beautiful woman. But today he lacks both the energy and the will for extravagant words or gestures and besides, there is nothing about this conversation that is not entirely serious.]

Much as I prefer to avoid being in Retsu's bad books - and especially when I'm stranded in Fourth - I think she'd forgive me this time.

[He avoids her eyes, closing his own and pressing another kiss to her forehead. He doesn't pull back, murmuring the words quietly against her skin.]

I already failed to protect too many people, Ukitake. I won't make the same mistake again.

...how is Lisa-chan?

Edited 2011-02-05 14:53 (UTC)

[There's a slightly more honest smile at that. She had seen - and heard - Shunsui's former lieutenant more than once during her stay in Fourth so far. It had been a small moment of joy, to have their former companions back, alive, in the face of so much death.]

Alive. Annoyed.

[There's the barest hint of amusement there - Yadomaru Lisa had never been one to hold back her opinion, and it seemed that much had not changed in the last century, at least. Much to the disappointment and fear of many Fourth Division shinigami]

She went back to Living World as soon as Retsu let her up for more than five minutes at a time. Said she'd wait for us to sort things out here, first.

[There's a pause - a moment of silent relief in which he closes his eyes even more tightly - then a soft, baritone rumble of amusement at Ukitake's assessment of his former Fukutaichou's condition.]

She was never one to submit quietly to a stay in Fourth.

[Another silence, this one slightly more prolonged, because his words recall to him the last time he had seen her, a hundred years ago. It had been barely more than a glimpse - of a face and body he had once known almost as intimately as Jyuushiko's, but which had been barely recognisable under the blood and the bruises and that white... filth that crawled over her like a parasite. And then she was gone, lost in a sea of onmitsukidou while he was firmly ushered away by Unohana, despite his arguments and the searing mix of guilt and grief and rage that had made him careless even of Yama-jii's displeasure.

Finally he smiles, opening his eyes and letting his hand drop from Jyuushiko's face back to his lap. His other arm, however, remains firmly around her waist, and he leans back slightly despite the protest from his still-healing body at the sudden change of position.]

Yare yare. Then we'd better not make her wait too long, Ukitake. She might think better of it and come back just to kick my ass for not working fast enough.

Edited 2011-02-09 04:19 (UTC)

[It's good to hear that soft laugh again, and she smiles a little wider, a little warmer.]

When you stay it like that, you make me want to stall just to watch the ensuing fall-out. Just like old times, ne?

[Like before Aizen, before the war, before their companions were taken from them, changed - she hadn't been affected quite so directly then, at least - but she had seen Shunsui's grief, and it had mirrored her own, decades later, with Kaien's loss. It's foolish to think they can really go back to the way things used to be, but she can dream a little.]

So cruel, Jyuu.

[To the rest, he doesn't say anything - just squeezes her fingers between his own with a quick and gentle pressure. He's never been able to lie to Ukitake - not really - not even to himself, if she was ever around to see it.

There were subjects they avoided - half-healed wounds which ran deeper than the physical - like the aftermath of Kaien's death, or Urahara's trial - or the fear that one day, either Ukitake's illness or Kyouraku's reluctance to fight would catch up with them. Like the unborn child who had died before either of them had known of her existence, extinguishing a possible future that Kyouraku had not even consciously realised he either wanted or expected and forcing him to face the limitations of Ukitake's health after centuries of denial.

These things they rarely spoke of directly, and even then only with intent. Instead, Jyuushiko would bury her grief and self-recrimination with work, while Kyouraku drowned his with sake, or the pleasures of the flesh. Occasionally things would boil over into a fight, either verbal or physical - each knowing the other's weaknesses well enough that it was only too easy to select the weapon that would cause the most pain. But even then it's anger born of an habitual honesty which Kyouraku has been unable to suppress since the first night he held Jyuushiko in his arms until her coughs subsided into sleep.

Right now, he doesn't have the strength to risk a fight - his thoughts still too disconnected to make perfect sense even to himself. A soft hum and he matches her smile with one of his own, though it's not reflected in his eyes, and he knows it.]

You always wanted to make something better, Ukitake - even then. Something different.

[His brow furrows in a slight frown, and he reaches up to rub tiredly at his right eye.]

Aizen wasn't insane. He betrayed Soul Society for a reason, whatever it was. We can't ask him now and maybe we'll never know for sure. But if there was a reason, it's still there - here.

Edited 2011-02-19 19:51 (UTC)

[She sighs, and nods her head slightly. She has had plenty of time to contemplate the 'why' of Aizen's actions, since his defection. Some of these thoughts she had shared with Shunsui, and some - the more angry, bitter ones - she had kept to herself. She had liked Aizen Sousuke - considered him a friend, even, if not a close one. They'd been of similar background and disposition - or so she had thought, anyway - and there had been a fair number of quiet conversations over shared tea in her past with him. And that meant his betrayal had felt personal, to her.

And Shun was right. They'd never have the 'whys' now - not from Aizen, anyway.]

I'm not sure I'd call a desire to sit on the throne of heaven a sane one. But you're right. His decisions were reasoned.

[Another small sigh, as she leans a little more heavily on Shunsui - less in need of the support and more for just the touch, the physical weight of his presence.]

Which leaves finding the reasons to us.

[He's quiet for a moment, confining his response to another soft hum as he considers what to say in response. Then there's a sigh to match Jyuushiko's, though it's more one of resignation. It's not the first time he's had the thought, since Aizen's goals had been laid bare, though it's the first time he's uttered it aloud, even to Ukitake.]

Perhaps not. But if that's true, then what of the person who sits on it now?

[Kyouraku doesn't flinch or pull away when she leans back, despite the fact that her weight - even as reduced as it is (and there's another flare of worry at that) - presses uncomfortably against his ribs.

He doesn't know if the bandages there cover the wound left by Aizen's blade, or those caused by the last flare of his sensei's zanpakutou but either way, he's well aware that they're far from healed. But the discomfort is offset by the cool, if reduced pressure of Jyuushiko's reiryoku - amplified by the closer physical contact - and the involuntary intake of air that he can't quite suppress is instead disguised by another soft, but short laugh.]

Optimism has always been part of your charm, Jyuu.

Can it wait until tomorrow? Even I can only avoid so much work in a day, and I'm sure Nanao-chan already has enough outstanding paperwork to cover all the walls of Eighth.

Edited 2011-03-27 13:41 (UTC)

[The person who sat on it now... They had accepted the rule of the Spirit King for centuries - complacency born out of trust in the order of things. But she of all people should have thought to question more than that - 'the order of things' was not necessarily a fair or just order. Aizen had left them with more to clean up than just the dead, it seemed.

The soft laugh is a welcome distraction from those rather unhappy thoughts, and she gives Shunsui a small, sidelong grin.]

My life would be too depressing if I wasn't an optimist, I think.

[Though even that joke is a little bleak, for her. Too much looking mortality in the face, these last few weeks - there have been close calls before, for both of them. It was part of being a soldier for centuries. But this one was closer than all of those had been.

She realizes how off that sounded, tries to cover it with a smile.]

As if Retsu would let you do anything right now - she's probably annoyed you're even sitting up.

[He doesn't return her smile, instead turning his head slightly so that he can rest it against the top of hers; letting his eyes close and the tangled mess of his hair slip down to cover his face.

To Shunsui, the words are a painful reminder of his own helplessness in the face of Ukitake's sickness. That no amount of anger at whatever or whoever had caused it to happen can ever change the reality; that no matter how much he wishes it, he can never take her place.

You are a fool. She would not want it, even if it were possible.

Katen's interruption is not unexpected - her opinion on the subject having been made clear many times over the centuries - and her remark prompts a small, though bitter, smile.

I know that. Though some might argue that makes her more of a fool than me.

Out loud he just exhales gently against Jyuushiko's hair, slipping his other arm back around her waist to keep her where she is.]

If Retsu didn't intend for me to break the rules, she'd never have let you in. You're too beautiful a temptress and she knows my weaknesses far too well.

[This time his attempt at a laugh catches in his lungs, ending as a cough that he can't quite hold back. Mercifully it's just the one, but it still brings with it a sharp pain in his chest and the taste of ash and blood.]

Edited 2011-04-04 02:14 (UTC)

[She lets Shunsui tuck her up against him - half the time she'd complain, even in jest, about such an openly protective move, and certainly has in the past, the many times he's done it. When they were in the Academy, still working out the balance between them, it had frustrated her. But that was a long time ago, and right now - she's content to accept the gesture and what it means. A small bit of comfort when it feels like everything else is falling apart around them.]

Hmph. No temptress today - and you're not in any state fit to be tempted, I think.

[A small tease, though the humor in his voice makes her intent clear. The half-smile drops from her face at the slightly wet sound of that cough, though. Not the first time she's heard it outside her own body, but there's a surge of panic each time, knowing what it could mean.]

Are you alright?

[A part of his mind knows that the lack of protest from Jyuushiko should worry him - that usually, even if he got his way, it was rarely without a tart remark at the very least. But he's too grateful to have her there - to feel the warmth of her body against him and the countering coolness of her spiritual power filling the dark void where his own should be - grateful enough to push the spark of concern away before it takes shape.

And besides - after two centuries, Kyouraku knows his own faults, and would never deny that an inclination to self-indulgence is of them, even at the worst of times... perhaps especially at the worst of times. Lowering his head slightly, he places a kiss on the exposed skin behind her ear.]

Oya, I'm always fit enough to be tempted.

[Still, he's careful not to inhale too sharply, especially with the weight of her against him - experimentally taking one slow, shallow breath after another. Kyouraku's memories of the past few days - weeks - are muddy, despite the clarity of the fever dreams, but he can remember the sensation of drowning all too well - of being unable to draw air into his lungs and the naked fear that had accompanied it.

It's something that he has seen for himself - that Ukitake has described to him many times after an attack, or after waking in a breathless panic in the middle of the night. But it's the first time that he has fully understood it, and his arms tighten around her a little at the question.]

You know me, Jyuu. It's nothing that won't heal - given enough time and enough sake.

Edited 2011-04-09 17:09 (UTC)

[She can't help a small shiver at the light kiss - her body may be battered and exhausted, but it still reacts - and that's a sensitive spot. The tiny spark of physical pleasure is enough to chase away some of the fear, unknot a little of the tension that the rough cough had brought with it.]

I didn't think to smuggle some in with me, unfortunately - though I think Retsu would have frisked me if I so much thought of it.

[The jest makes her feel a little like her old self, the rhythm between them familiar.

Rise and Shine

The deer, it is teal

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