Fic: Sunlight and Song (11/11)
Title: Sunlight and Song
Author: Venefican
Pairing: Nanao/Shunsui
Rating: PG
Summary: The Epilogue. Many thanks to any readers who have stumbled across this, and thanks again to beta pekori and artist 2nds2disaster!
Admire the beautiful beautiful Georgian-inspired art and drop the artist a nice comment. We were both in the mood for Austen.
When the dust clears, they’ve managed to fight their way to a standstill, breathing heavily, scorched, bruised and Nanao’s pulse singing rhapsodies through her blood. She holds her blade steady at his cheek, feels the flat of one of his swords press at her ribs. They’re close enough to share breath and Shunsui is staring at her as if she’s the most fascinating thing in the world. She licks her lips, tries to ignore the way his pupils are blown huge and focused utterly on her.
‘Sir, we just fought in front of the Ise Inner Shrine.’
‘So?’
‘The holiest place in Japan.’
‘Yes?’
She gives up and sighs in a way that isn’t as angry as she pretends it is. ‘Philistine.’
‘Ah, Nanao-chan, I think you’ll find I value certain aesthetics very highly.’ He emphasises the words in a way that makes them sound infinitely more lewd than they have any right to be. Nanao flushes hot and he laughs, utterly delighted in his ability to fluster her. He withdraws his sword, releasing her from a metal embrace and she sheathes her little tantō, listening to the content humming in the back of her mind.
She takes a moment to attempt to straighten out her uniform and her hair. She would rather avoid the inevitable questions from the Division when they reappear with damage no Hollow could account for. She’s re-pinning her hair into its clip when he stops her, curling long strands of black hair around his finger and stroking it with a thumb as he frowns at her, brow creased in thought.
‘Nanao-chan, what did Jyuu say to you?’
‘Ukitake-taichō very kindly explained several things to me.’
‘Like?’
‘You being an idiot.’
‘Oh.’
‘He also reminded me of things as they were,’ she eyes him carefully, ‘One hundred years ago.’
He performs this intriguing full-body wince, his entire body recoiling as he calculates the date and remembers exactly what happened. ‘And?’
‘It was enlightening.’ She doesn’t think of the lost Captains and Vice-Captains, doesn’t think of her wonderful Yadomaru-fukutaichō. Just thinks of him, left behind and somehow even more lost for it than their missing officers. ‘And he was right, you are an idiot.’
‘My lovely Nanao-chan and my dear Jyuu, so generous to me both.’ His voice is as dry as the bones his sword is named for but his eyes are cautious in a way that makes her heart ache a little to see.
‘He was correct, all the same. I will warn you that if you do that to me again I will be forced to be inventive in my revenge. Not even your zanpakutō will know what happened to you. Clear?’
He nods, silently, mouth twitching a little at the corners.
‘Come along then, Shunsui. Home.’
He starts forward obediently, and then stops. She, walking ahead, doesn’t bother to hide her smile as he repeats blankly, ‘Shunsui? Home?’
‘Yes, dear. Home.’
She puts the same emphasis on it that he does, a slight drop in pitch, a tilt on her head, watches it click into place and bloom into a smile. Quiet and satisfied and relieved. He starts forward again, matches her step for step, unable to stop grinning. His voice picks up in a low murmur, detailing the history of the shrine and the treasure it is said to contain.
She tunes him out, for the most part, lets the low, happy sound of him remain thrumming inside her to match the sound of Utagawa, trilling her joy to anyone who has an ear to listen. For the first time in several long weeks Nanao curls her head back into the last warmth of the day and lets it sink down to the bone the same way as his presence. Warm as sunlight and song. There might be another time, soon, or distant, that this happens again, that the world shatters beyond any hope of repair or recall.
Tomorrow might bring the last day for both of them. But that is another day and she is not known for easy surrender. She curls her hand around his, feels the pulse at his fingertips and thinks,
Let it come.
Author: Venefican
Pairing: Nanao/Shunsui
Rating: PG
Summary: The Epilogue. Many thanks to any readers who have stumbled across this, and thanks again to beta pekori and artist 2nds2disaster!
Admire the beautiful beautiful Georgian-inspired art and drop the artist a nice comment. We were both in the mood for Austen.
When the dust clears, they’ve managed to fight their way to a standstill, breathing heavily, scorched, bruised and Nanao’s pulse singing rhapsodies through her blood. She holds her blade steady at his cheek, feels the flat of one of his swords press at her ribs. They’re close enough to share breath and Shunsui is staring at her as if she’s the most fascinating thing in the world. She licks her lips, tries to ignore the way his pupils are blown huge and focused utterly on her.
‘Sir, we just fought in front of the Ise Inner Shrine.’
‘So?’
‘The holiest place in Japan.’
‘Yes?’
She gives up and sighs in a way that isn’t as angry as she pretends it is. ‘Philistine.’
‘Ah, Nanao-chan, I think you’ll find I value certain aesthetics very highly.’ He emphasises the words in a way that makes them sound infinitely more lewd than they have any right to be. Nanao flushes hot and he laughs, utterly delighted in his ability to fluster her. He withdraws his sword, releasing her from a metal embrace and she sheathes her little tantō, listening to the content humming in the back of her mind.
She takes a moment to attempt to straighten out her uniform and her hair. She would rather avoid the inevitable questions from the Division when they reappear with damage no Hollow could account for. She’s re-pinning her hair into its clip when he stops her, curling long strands of black hair around his finger and stroking it with a thumb as he frowns at her, brow creased in thought.
‘Nanao-chan, what did Jyuu say to you?’
‘Ukitake-taichō very kindly explained several things to me.’
‘Like?’
‘You being an idiot.’
‘Oh.’
‘He also reminded me of things as they were,’ she eyes him carefully, ‘One hundred years ago.’
He performs this intriguing full-body wince, his entire body recoiling as he calculates the date and remembers exactly what happened. ‘And?’
‘It was enlightening.’ She doesn’t think of the lost Captains and Vice-Captains, doesn’t think of her wonderful Yadomaru-fukutaichō. Just thinks of him, left behind and somehow even more lost for it than their missing officers. ‘And he was right, you are an idiot.’
‘My lovely Nanao-chan and my dear Jyuu, so generous to me both.’ His voice is as dry as the bones his sword is named for but his eyes are cautious in a way that makes her heart ache a little to see.
‘He was correct, all the same. I will warn you that if you do that to me again I will be forced to be inventive in my revenge. Not even your zanpakutō will know what happened to you. Clear?’
He nods, silently, mouth twitching a little at the corners.
‘Come along then, Shunsui. Home.’
He starts forward obediently, and then stops. She, walking ahead, doesn’t bother to hide her smile as he repeats blankly, ‘Shunsui? Home?’
‘Yes, dear. Home.’
She puts the same emphasis on it that he does, a slight drop in pitch, a tilt on her head, watches it click into place and bloom into a smile. Quiet and satisfied and relieved. He starts forward again, matches her step for step, unable to stop grinning. His voice picks up in a low murmur, detailing the history of the shrine and the treasure it is said to contain.
She tunes him out, for the most part, lets the low, happy sound of him remain thrumming inside her to match the sound of Utagawa, trilling her joy to anyone who has an ear to listen. For the first time in several long weeks Nanao curls her head back into the last warmth of the day and lets it sink down to the bone the same way as his presence. Warm as sunlight and song. There might be another time, soon, or distant, that this happens again, that the world shatters beyond any hope of repair or recall.
Tomorrow might bring the last day for both of them. But that is another day and she is not known for easy surrender. She curls her hand around his, feels the pulse at his fingertips and thinks,
Let it come.