Remembering the Innocence

 

My hands itched to expand this...and thanks to purple13098 and Cuzosu's encouragement, here's the next chapter!

What I find interesting about writing Kisuke in this story is exploring what's underneath the man's exaggerated flamboyance. I hope to capture that...well, at least I'm trying really hard to... :p

As always, feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated!

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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.

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Don't worry, I won't kill off Juushiro! ;)

I might have to raise the rating of this story to M eventually, but I'm still figuring out how to pace this story. So...we'll see. :)