ficlet; the heart is hard to translate

[bookslap]

It's been a week since everything's come into the open - their Pokemon arriving, the extent of the physical changes - and Nanao is tired. Tired of herding an overly curious psychic away from dangerous waters, tired of paperwork, tired of being tired.

So in the early afternoon, she slips away from the Eighth - leaving a note behind, of course - and goes home. Home-home, to the Ise Estate. She hasn't spent a lot of time here over the past century, but it still looks the same. High walls, an impossibly old garden that's more forest than it is flowers, and warding spells that thrum through her bones as soon as she sets foot onto the grounds.

This is where she was born. It is where her mother was born, and her mother's mother, and so on. The building itself dates from a time before the Seireitei itself existed, and it feels it. It is comforting. Nanao can feel auntie Shirori in the kitchen garden, a glimmering and grounded presence. Wakana is not yet fully tied in, but Nanao can feel the presence of their new kitchen-hand nonetheless.

Suzutsuki Wakana was one of the handful of students that failed out of the Academy - and being originally from the Rukongai, was also severely lacking in the network of connections one needed to survive in the Seireitei as a civilian. Auntie needed a hand, and so Nanao had stepped in.

But that wasn't exactly what Nanao needed at this point.

She steps into the sprawling house, toeing off her sandals. Auntie briefly flashes her reishi, and Nanao replies with a double-pulse - I'm fine, no need to attend. There's a chest just inside the entrance, and she pulls out a quilted blanket and a sealed bottle of water.

Sandals back on, she heads back out into the garden. The main feature is a small lake, or a very large pond - spring-fed, which was a useful thing to have two-and-a-half thousand years ago. She skirts round the pond, walking slowly past the stands of bamboo and the wisteria-covered pergola until she comes to the cherry trees.

Kiyone is already busy harrassing the ducks, which is not unusual. Nanao laughs, and Hanatarou slithers down from one of the trees, grabbing a corner of the blanket and helping to spread it out. The afternoon is warm, and it's not long before she dozes off, Hana-chan curled up around her head and shoulders.

--

"Maa, Nanao-chan. Sneaking off isn't like you." A rumbling voice cuts through her dozing, but it isn't quite enough to fully wake her. She rolls over, throwing an arm around the warm body by her side. "Ah, come on, this ground won't do you any good."

She grumbles, and blinks a few time. The early-afternoon blue sky has faded to the orange-purple of twilight - and sitting beside her is Shunsui. He's got that fond look on his face, the one that's usually directed at Ukitake - and increasingly, her.

"G'd afternoon." She says, and her voice is rough with sleep, and Shunsui's eyes crinkle with a smile. She can't help but smile back.

"Hello, sweetheart." Nanao pushes herself up slowly, debates sitting up properly, and then immediately discards the idea and leans against him. Shunsui wraps an arm around her shoulders and she hums happily. They sit like that for a long moment; long enough that Hanatarou curls back up and goes back to sleep.

Then Nanao speaks.

"There was someone. His name was Tulio." It just flows out of her; everything she's wanted to say, had wanted to tell him but couldn't-- and it's liberating.

When she finally stops, the sky is fully dark. There's the spread of stars above them, and the light from Seireitei glows faintly along the walls. There's a wetness on her cheeks, and she swipes at them. Shunsui is warm against her side, spiritual pressure reassuringly constant.

He shifts away, broad and calloused hand coming to cup her cheek. His gaze roams over her face, thumb gently grazing over her lip. She nods. He leans in.

It's not a perfect kiss, but it's good enough for them.

Nanao is happy.