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But I Haven't Seen Barbados	By : therish9 Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female Views: 2553 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or anything from it and make no profit.

Chapter List
- 1-But I Haven't Seen Barbados
- 1
A/N: This is set shortly after the Vizards' exile. Also, this is pretty long for a oneshot; my apologies.

Softly. The glow of a lantern and whispers came through the wall. Softly. Bare knees scraped across the tatami as she crawled to the wall. Wetting her finger, she discreetly poked a hole through the paper and peered into the dimly lit room beyond. She could make out a body – no, two – sprawled out and tangled on the futon. Immediately she recognized the owner of wavy blond tresses but his form obscured the other from her view for long moments.
She knew it happened occasionally, even if she didn’t know what it was. No one talked about it and though generally forthright with her curiosity, she couldn’t bring herself to seek answers. Having only heard the act before, she instinctively felt its intimate nature and therefore felt too embarrassed to ask anyone. Only one person would she trust to ask, but given her new understanding, she felt even more embarrassed to approach him.
Watching the couple intently, she eventually learned the identity of the other, a revelation which should have been apparent, given the owner of the room. Mashiro being Mashiro, however, meant that nothing obvious was ever obvious once curiosity took hold.
A new curiosity was now taking hold. As she watched the pair writhing and making all manner of peculiar sounds, an unfamiliar sensation began between her legs. Rubbing her thighs together, she tried to ease the throbbing as she continued to watch. Things were at a fever pitch now; the woman was screaming out as the blond gentleman continued his exertions with more fervor, but as she watched, Mashiro realized something was wrong. The woman’s screams were laced with terror, and then she began choking.
From elsewhere in the house, she heard the pounding of a few pairs of feet running down the hall, and then the runners burst into the other room. Shouting ensued. It all happened so fast. Kensei and Love tackled Rose to the ground and pinned him there; she caught a glimpse of his distinctive avian mask before Shinji joined the others and obscured the sight. Meanwhile Hiyori ran in and, covering Lisa with a spare yukata, sat the woman up and checked her over for injuries.
Shifting her weight, Mashiro lost her balance and tumbled over, knocking over the table next to her. With all the ruckus, no one seemed to notice, except Kensei, whose eyes snapped instantly to the hole in the wall. Unaware that he caught her, Mashiro crawled carefully to her futon and slipped under the blanket, hoping she could fake sleep convincingly should anyone wonder why she hadn’t responded to the incident. If anything, they knew her to sleep like the dead on occasion, so she could feasibly have a solid alibi against spying, should that also come up.
From here the words came through the wall muffled, but she could guess all was well. Not everyone had yet subjugated their Hollows. Rose, obviously, Kensei and Hiyori still had this problem in high-stress or emotional situations. Kensei’s Hollow liked to take over when he was especially angry, so did this mean Rose was angry with Lisa? Did she do something to upset him? Whatever it was they were doing, it sounded to Mashiro as though they were both enjoying themselves…
As she lay quietly, replaying the events in her mind, that throbbing sensation returned. Not really understanding but wanting to do something to make it stop, she squirmed uncomfortably for a few minutes as the sounds next door faded. Her squirming did nothing to mitigate her discomfort, so she decided to go straight to the source. Pressing her palm gently against her mound, the throbbing increased; finding this unusual, she pushed open her juban and cupped herself lightly. She jumped at the sensation, withdrawing her hand, but replaced it and tried again. Letting her fingers dance lightly along her cleft, she sighed as she listened to footsteps in the hall dispersing the crowd to other rooms. Hearing one tread stop outside her door, she paused, holding her breath. She waited, eased her hand away carefully…
The door slid open abruptly and she snapped her eyes shut. Footsteps paced above her head, paused where she knew she made the hole in the wall, and then returned to the door. Hearing it close, she sighed and opened her eyes. Kensei was staring down at her from the door.
“Nice try,” he said, voice low as he folded his arms over his chest. “Did you enjoy the show?” She stared up at him, mouth agape, unsure at first how to respond. Sitting up, she leaned back on her hands, unaware that her juban fell open just enough to make Kensei blush and avert his eyes. Crossing the narrow room, he knelt down beside her and pulled her collar closed. She may have possessed the innocence of a child, but her body was that of a woman, a fact to which, like most things, she as yet remained oblivious. Taking a hint, however, she clasped her collar close to her throat.
Mashiro never had a chance to stupidly respond to his rhetorical question. “Don’t let me catch you spying again, idiot. You should know better.” Rising from his knee, Kensei silently left the room, leaving Mashiro feeling like a scolded child. She resented that feeling with all her being but as a conscious thought, she hadn’t yet realized that was the issue. He treated her differently from the others, and though she had long ago learned that it was less deferential than she would like, the exact reason eluded her.

Heart still racing, she collapsed onto her pillow. She’d already forgotten her previous occupation and resolved to let sleep erase her memory of the night altogether.

As Kensei lay on his futon and staring at the ceiling, he breathed in deeply, each breath taking him further from the adrenaline and closer to the panic. He knew the day was coming. Mashiro was blissfully nave, innocent to so many ways of the world – and he had done his part to keep her that way. As her captain – but mostly as just the person to whom she clung, he had ample opportunity to shelter her from his officers’ shenanigans, from the wiles of unsavory men who would violate and devastate her; for his part, he’d so far shielded her from learning too much about their new companions’ personal lives, but her curiosity knew no bounds. He knew that when her curiosity piqued on this front, it would be time to tell her; it would be time for her to grow up. He had to be the one. He didn’t want to be, but it would be him. It would always have to be him.
No longer could he think of her as a child, as innocent. Already so much of that innocence was lost, in just one night, thanks to her curiosity. He could no longer protect her; losing that control was a maddening thought. How would he treat her now? How could he look at her, knowing she knew things he hoped she would never know? This begged the question, of course, why did any of it bother him? Despite her previously being his subordinate, he had no right to control her, no right to police her exposure to life.
And oh, but that loss of control only exacerbated his frustration. He noticed with alacrity and alarming frequency that hers was a body belonging to a voluptuous woman, a vision entirely incongruous with her charmingly immature personality. While he could shelter her, he could ignore the physicality, but when she became self-aware, he feared the power she would learn to wield over him. It was only a matter of time until she could use her sexuality against him, and he honestly didn’t think himself strong enough to face that. Not yet, at least.

Kensei’s Hollow could present a new set of problems should he come to see Mashiro as a more sexual creature. The beast had already dared show itself several times when Mashiro angered him, so Kensei was afraid to think of the implications of other strong emotions, impulses, and desires. Seeing only a bad end, he perished the thought for the night and committed to addressing the problem later. He anticipated a bombardment of inevitable questions from her. They may not come immediately, but eventually, and eventually he would have to answer her. He just didn’t know if he could.

“Hey, Kensei,” Mashiro said as she entered her room. He was kneeling on the floor before the wall, the very spot where she had been spying the night before. “Whatcha doin’?”

He glanced up at her, taking note of the way she tied up her hair to keep it out of her face as she cleaned. Her sleeves were tied back with a tasuke, too; a practical solution to keep them out of the way, but with the extra fabric out of the way, he could see her clearly defined curves. “Fixing your mistake,” he said as he returned his attention to the wall. He was patching the hole she made there, and she had the grace to blush, knowing he had indeed caught her and wasn’t just making an assumption.
Leaning on his shoulder, she watched him work for a moment. “Um, what were they doing last night?” She tilted her head and watched his face as she waited for an answer.
“None of your business,” he said as he carefully applied the paper patch. He’d learned to work around her, but her body pressed against his arm just now was more of a hindrance than he could overcome. Nudging her away gently with his elbow, he finished the job and turned to her. “Seriously, it’s between them.”
She pouted. “Aw, come on, Kensei. I can keep a secret. Just between us?” Clinging to his arm even as he stood, she gave him her most serious and pleading looks, but the notion of a secret like that between them destroyed his mental equilibrium.
“Just…don’t, Mashiro. No.” Even as he walked out of the room, he realized he missed his chance. The question he was expecting came and he choked. He knew her well enough to know she’d get answers somehow, even if not from him. His control was officially gone.
And certainly, Mashiro would seize the first opportunity to find her answer.
“Hey, Lisa,” Kensei heard from the other side of his door not two minutes after he entered his room, and he knew with all certainty, Mashiro was going to get that answer now.
Lisa paused in the hallway as Mashiro popped her head out to greet her. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. I was spying on you last night. What were you and Rose-kun doing?” Mashiro leaned against the door carefully as she spoke quickly. She could practically see Lisa’s head spin; she couldn’t be dishonest and barely had a concept of that notion, so she’d gladly admit her wrongdoings, especially if it served a greater interest. Not to mention, that was one less thing Kensei could hold over her head later.
“You…what?” Looking down the hallway to the common room, she saw Rose coming from the stairs. “Come with me.” Lisa pulled Mashiro out into the hallway and into her own room swiftly. Once the door was closed, Lisa inspected the recently repaired wall.
“I see,” she said, adjusting her glasses. Turning to Mashiro, she added, “I knew it. We knew it.” Folding her arms over her chest, she paced across the room and back again.
Mashiro bowed her head, thinking she should outwardly show shame, even if she didn’t feel very shameful. “I’m so sorry, Lisa-chan.” Her apology, at least, was sincere; the last thing she wanted was to offend anyone intentionally.
Lisa knelt down and retrieved a book from a small shelf. Opening it, she motioned for Mashiro to join her on the floor. “Don’t worry about it. We liked knowing we were being watched.” Flipping to a particular page, she missed Mashiro’s amazed look. The girl didn’t know what to think of that proclamation. “See, this is what we were doing,” Lisa said as she pointed to the open page.
Mashiro cocked her head to the side to better study the image; the colors were beautiful and the art itself not unappealing, but she couldn’t quite decipher what was going on. Knowing the image was supposed to be an illustration of what she had somewhat seen the night before, she could piece together a good idea of what the depicted couple was doing.
“This is shunga,” Lisa said casually as she flipped the page to the next print. “It’s erotic art.” Mashiro looked at her with a deep crease in her forehead. “Drawings of people having sex?”
Returning her attention to the page, Mashiro wanted desperately not to seem so idiotic. She’d heard Kensei and others use those words when he thought she couldn’t hear him, and though she sort of had an idea of what it meant, she never really knew. Until now, anyway. Taking the book as Lisa shifted it into her lap, she hesitantly flipped the page. Lisa snickered as Mashiro’s eyes grew impossibly wide. Neither especially anticipated this sudden lesson in male anatomy.
Pointing, with her mouth agape, Mashiro stuttered out a few broken words before finally vocalizing her question. “K-Kensei…has one of those?”
Lisa took the book back from Mashiro, leaving it open for just a while longer. “Yeah, all guys do.”
“B-but, where does…he…hide it?” Her eyes were still wide and her face was burning bright red.
Lisa laughed. “Well, it’s not really that big, I’m sure.” She kept laughing, finding no end to the hilarity. “Listen, Shinji bought this for me a few weeks ago, so why don’t you borrow it?” Closing the book, she tucked it helpfully into Mashiro’s obi.
“Shinji buys these?” Mashiro was trying to absorb every bit of information. “Does…does…”
“Yes, and probably,” Lisa said in reply to the questions. She guessed, and correctly, that Mashiro wondered if Kensei was hiding similar books in his room.

As Mashiro returned to her room, still dumbfounded, she tried to hide the book. Oh, how she tried. Everywhere she put it seemed still too obvious or unsafe. She would genuinely be mortified to be caught with such a piece of literature, and if anyone were going to find it in her room, it would be Kensei. At last frustrated with the pursuit, she lifted her futon and slid the thin book under it. Seeing that it wasn’t detectable to anyone coming in the room, she retired from the task and went downstairs to dinner.

Mashiro wasn’t usually one to be apart from the crowd, but training with Urahara Kisuke was boring. Having completely subjugated her Hollow without the training, she couldn’t bring herself to take interest in the others’ efforts. It seemed so painful and taxing to the others, a true battle against a heinous foe. That, she didn’t understand. She and her Hollow self got along just fine. Urahara supposed it was her innocent and candid nature, whatever that meant, something or other about lacking a strong, contrary will. Kensei disagreed on this point but acquiesced that it was as likely an answer as any. Anyway, today Mashiro didn’t want to tag along. She hated watching Kensei go through the apparent torment, and besides, she had a new interest to fill her time.

With a few hours to spare and the house to herself, Mashiro closed herself off in her room. She retrieved the shunga book from beneath her futon and sat, hesitant at first to even open it. At least a week had passed since Lisa lent it to her, but she hadn’t remotely forgotten the images it contained. She thumbed carefully through the pages, looking for one in particular. When she found it, she opened the book fully; already she could feel her face burning. Reaching, she placed the book at the opposite end of the mattress and lay on her stomach. Resting her chin on her fist, she studied the page intensely.
The male anatomy, as poorly rendered and exaggerated as it was here, fascinated her. Of course she didn’t realize the scope of the exaggeration, but if Lisa’s reassurance was anything to go by, none of her male companions were walking around with grotesque monsters hiding in their hakama. That relieved her, but it did nothing to mitigate her curiosity. Flipping the page, she noticed this man’s appendage looked different from the last. Were they all different? She began picturing what each man in her life would look like disrobed, but the cartoonishly large images juxtaposed themselves on her mental images and she could only laugh. Put at ease by her laughter, she flipped between the pages with fewer inhibitions, whiling away a good two hours before she realized how much time had passed.
She and Kensei were on kitchen duty for the week, and the others would be home soon. Without him here to help her start dinner, she worried that she would make a mess of things. Before the others returned, she set her attentions to making tea for everyone and swore to herself that she would measure the water for rice correctly this time. She always made so many mistakes in the kitchen, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Today, however, she’d let Kensei’s more capable hands prepare the rest of the meal, if she could get the rice right. He would be so hungry when he got home; she didn’t want to disappoint him. Perhaps, instead, this would be a pleasant surprise…
As the rice steamed and the tea steeped, she lost herself in thought. She could piece together plenty of information about this sex thing from the shunga images, but she still had so many questions. As much as she wanted to know about the act itself, she had twice as many questions about her own body, and depressingly she’d never really had anyone around to answer those questions for her. Well…

Deciding it was too embarrassing to ask Kensei questions about her own body, she decided it best to talk with another woman. Lisa was her only option at this point, but she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t annoy her new friend.

The next night at dinner, as everyone sat around the table, conversation flowed as usual. They chatted about training and chores and who did what unbelievably idiotic thing. Though Lisa didn’t necessarily mean to hold anyone else’s attention, her statement to Mashiro certainly drew all eyes to her.
“Mashiro, while I was cleaning today, I retrieved the book I lent you. I hope you don’t mind.” Finishing a slurp of broth, “Did you enjoy it?”
All eyes were on the pair, though Mashiro had no clue why. “I-I did; thank you.”
Shinji choked on a mouthful of rice, and Kensei sent Lisa the dirtiest look he could conjure. Everyone in the room – except Mashiro, apparently – knew Lisa only had one type of book and many of them.
Long after dinner, when Mashiro had been in her room for some time, Kensei went up and knocked gently on her door. She granted him entrance, and he stood by the closed door, watching her as she lay on her futon, staring at the ceiling and playing with her hair. He couldn’t recall just when it happened – so gradual a process, he supposed – but her hair was much longer than he remembered.
“That book…that you borrowed from Lisa?” He said carefully as he cleared his throat.
“What about it?” Mashiro asked as her heart jumped into her throat.
He scratched his head absently. “She, uh, borrowed a book from me a while back and I can’t find it. I thought maybe it was mine you borrowed. About, you know, geography. I know you like to read my books about the Islands.” He coughed and shifted uncomfortably in place. Lying to her was so hard; that girl had a sensitive bullshit meter despite looking so gullible.
“It wasn’t that kind of book, Kensei,” she said quickly. “It was, um, a picture book.” She rolled onto her side and looked up at him. “I’ll ask her for you if you think she won’t give it back to you,” she offered helpfully.
“No, that’s okay,” he said, backing up toward the door, reaching to open it even as he spoke. “I’ll ask her. Thanks, anyway.” He disappeared into the dark hallway and kept backing up straight into his own room.
She lied to him.
Well, not exactly. She avoided the truth without being dishonest, and he wondered where she could have learned that trick. The only reason she didn’t call him on his lie was that she didn’t want him to call her on hers. In that single moment, he realized Mashiro was going to learn rather quickly how to manipulate him beyond using childish behaviors. A foreboding feeling washed over him.
She’d probably always act immaturely, to some degree, but her mind was quickly growing into her body. That fact and all the changes to both their lives that it entailed was simultaneously frightening and exhilarating, though he couldn’t place why. For so long he’d thought of her as a child and treated her as such, but with each passing day, that was becoming a task of increasing difficulty. He wanted to always be protective of her, but could he do that fairly?

Only time would tell.

Mashiro rarely had quality chances to speak with Lisa. She was often occupied with reading or spending time with her…lover? The notion of a lover was alluring to Mashiro. She wanted to know that experience inside and out, and what was a better start than to interview someone who already did? The house was quiet today, with most of its occupants scattered to the four winds. Mashiro was keeping warm in the kitchen while Lisa cleaned the common room next door, and so far as she could tell, they were the only ones at home.

Preparing two bowls of rice and some tea, Mashiro went into the common room, where Lisa was just finishing the floor. “Lunchtime!” Mashiro singsonged as she set the filled dishes out on the table. Lisa thanked her as she sat opposite Mashiro and at once began eating.
For long moments, neither said a word. Mashiro still wasn’t entirely comfortable with her new companions, and though she desperately wanted to be friends, Lisa was given to terseness and generally carried a taciturn air. Though those qualities, being polar opposite of her own, were something with which she easily coped, Mashiro hadn’t quite deciphered Lisa’s complicated nature. Nevertheless, she found herself implicitly trusting Lisa. There was a certain comfort in relying on someone with more knowledge, more experience.
“What is it you want to say? Just say it; you won’t offend me.” Lisa spoke abruptly, unprompted, and it startled Mashiro. She was amazed that Lisa could so easily read her. Was she that obvious?
She cast her gaze downward, and with a sharp intake of breath, she didn’t dare make eye contact again, knowing what she would ask. “What…what’s it like?”
Lisa had her suspicions that this question might come. Somehow, she just knew, and although she fully understood Mashiro’s meaning, she asked, “What is what like?” Perhaps a little misanthropic, but she wanted to see the girl squirm.
“You know,” she began hesitantly, “being with a man.” She finished in a whisper, attesting to her discomfort and unfamiliarity with the topic. She knew Lisa knew her knowledge was limited, but the thought of being overheard was almost enough to make her die on the spot.
“I don’t really know how to explain it…or describe it. The best way is to find out for yourself.” Lisa’s words expired but Mashiro’s thoughts did not.
Clearly she understood what finding out for herself meant, but it wasn’t the ‘what’ so much as the ‘how’ that perplexed her. Before she could stop herself, she was already asking it. “How would I get to do that…I mean, wh-who?”
Lisa couldn’t help the smirk that split her face. “No one comes to mind, huh,” she said as though the answer was so obvious, but Mashiro remained oblivious. “No one?” Setting her bowl on the table, she sipped her tea slowly and waited to see if the other girl’s brain might make any connections. When Mashiro continued to stare at her, mute, for several minutes, she conceded.
“Well, you can kind of get an idea by yourself.” She resumed eating but didn’t miss a one of Mashiro’s expressions.
“By myself? You mean, like...in that one picture?” Mashiro referred to the shunga, lacking any other point of reference.
Lisa nodded but said nothing. They finished the meal in relative silence, and she was holding out hope that Mashiro might blurt out the name of a particular someone, but her hope was fruitless. Lacking any other companionship, she aided Mashiro with the dishes and made small talk, and before disappearing to clean the upstairs floors, she formulated a heinous plan.
“Mashiro, between you and me,” she said conspiratorially as she leaned in. Mashiro leaned in too as Lisa dropped her voice to a whisper. “If you need inspiration, try thinking of Kensei.” With that, she disappeared around the corner.
Mashiro’s face turned a deep shade of embarrassed, though she couldn’t quite account for it. She really didn’t understand what Lisa was talking about, but now the wheels in her head were turning. Inspiration…inspiration for what? The last thing they talked about before that was…oh. Oh. Gradually she put the pieces together.
Before their lives changed so radically, Mashiro would sometimes stupidly daydream about silly, harmless things, like marrying her Kensei. The daydreams were short-lived and often meant next to nothing when considering the reality, but she had them nonetheless. She’d imagined what it would be like to kiss him, but truthfully, she’d wondered that about other guys, too. Kensei, however, was a man among men, everything she thought a real man should be: strong, loyal, tough, protective… She knew many men like that, but none so much as him, and none were so fond of her as he pretended not to be. Somewhere, deep inside, she knew he cared for her on some level. So many others in her life abandoned her, but not Kensei. He was different.
He was different, so thinking of him in the way Lisa implied was awkward. Having a new, albeit far from comprehensive, understanding of just what sort of physical relationship a man and woman could share, she shied away from those thoughts of him. She could recall, with the utmost embarrassment, the general questions about him that she’d posed to Lisa, and then she imagined the implications of the answers.

Despite her misgivings, she now absolutely must see him naked. She’d never be brave enough to ask, or to spy, but curiosity had taken hold. It could be any man, really, just to satisfy her curiosity, but she’d always wonder about him. Even if it never came to pass, she’d die wondering.

Lightly. Her eyes fluttered closed as she sighed inaudibly. Lightly. Nails grazed across heated flesh and her fingers found their way into the wetness. Prodding gently, she found the opening and slipped a finger inside. The feeling was neither intrusive nor comfortable, and though different, the sensations weren’t the magic she was expecting. Ready to forget the endeavor and chalk it up to a failed experiment, she gave one last lingering stroke along her cleft. In doing so, she brushed over her clit and discovered that elusive magic.

She gave a few experimental and hesitant touches to the newly discovered spot, and each touch sparked something within her, something primal and desperate. The sensations were unlike anything she had experienced; as her fingers slid around she easily found a rhythm. Her thoughts came in and out of focus, but her foremost thought was to be as quiet as possible. She was finding that difficult, however, as a feeling within her grew. She couldn’t quite identify what it was, but she felt this was building up to something, or like she was inching closer to the edge of a cliff, and she was growing impatient for it with each passing second. Sighing hard, she realized she had been holding her breath for far too long; she felt dizzy. Her mind went blank as she sped up, feeling so close…
From her mind’s eye, a pair of intense golden eyes glared at her. Instead of shying away, she let those eyes stare into hers, wander over her body…she could feel that gaze burning into her flesh. So close, but she needed more. Raising her knees and spreading herself wide, she used her other hand to stretch her opening with two fingers. Her sighs became panting, and as small sounds escaped her throat, her voice quietly reached a crescendo. Her body tensed, and those golden eyes flashed with satisfaction as she felt her inner walls contracting around her fingers and a small gush of fluid filled her hand.
Her legs trembled as her body relaxed, coming down from the unbelievable high. As amazing as she felt, something about her completion felt simultaneously satisfying and empty. She knew now what Lisa meant when she said she’d only get an idea of what it was like. A component was missing, apart from the obvious. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she wiped the sticky fluid from her hands with her discarded juban and, still trembling, closed her eyes with a sigh. Those golden eyes were still there, still intense, paired with a stern, scowling mouth. Strong, callused hands eagerly explored her body. She could feel his breath on her face, could hear his voice in a low, growling whisper…
“Mashiro.”
She hummed sleepily and turned toward the source of the voice.
“Mashiro, wake up.”
Slowly opening an eye, the first thing in her line of sight was those golden eyes. Realizing she was no longer dreaming, she had the presence of mind to draw her blanket to her chin before stuttering out, “K-Kensei! Good…morning.”

The man only scowled at her as a healthy blush bloomed in her cheeks. “You missed breakfast,” he said tersely. “Get dressed. It’s your turn to do laundry.” Rising from his kneeling position, Kensei left the room without another word. Mashiro sat up once the door was closed, and though she moved quickly, her mind never left those golden eyes.

Kensei had it easy this week. The only work he had to do was one shopping trip with Love, and the list was short. He liked this week in the rotation best of all. He and Love had already completed the shopping and split up to kill some time in the marketplace before making the long walk home from town. As he wandered from shop to stall and back, Kensei waited for something to catch his eye. He didn’t have anything in mind, but he’d been saving money for a while and wanted to buy something with it.

As he walked along, some sparkly kanzashi caught his eye. Stepping over to the stall, he examined the hair ornaments. They were of varying quality and formality, and most were beautiful. He’d love to see one in Mashiro’s hair, now that it was longer. He’d noticed her struggling to keep it out of the way as she did chores, so a trinket like this would serve a dual purpose of helping her and treating her. She liked new things, and shiny things, and if he were going to be completely honest with himself, he liked spoiling her sometimes.
Taking one in his hand, he examined it carefully, trying to imagine her wearing it, but no matter which way he held it and no matter how he pictured her, he couldn’t see it. It just didn’t suit her. He put it back, and as he was about to step away, something pink on the table called him back. Picking up the silk fabric gingerly, he admired the white flowers carefully woven into the material.
Her favorite pink scarf was ruined that night, torn and soiled with blood and dirt. She burned it but hadn’t bothered replacing it. This one was a lighter shade and of a higher quality than the old one, but he could easily picture her wearing it every day, using it to keep her hair out of her face as she cooked and cleaned. It suited her well, he thought. Counting out his coins carefully, he tucked the treasure away and met with Love to return home.
As the men crossed the yard, Kensei spotted Mashiro out back with Hachigen. She was elbow-deep in water as the much larger man wrestled with tiny clothespins. Watching as he continued to the door, she rose from her bent position and swiped at her bangs that fell immediately back into her eyes, and then she looked up and saw him. She smiled and waved, and he felt a swell of...affection?...in his chest. He didn’t really know what the feeling was. The corner of the house cut her from his sight, and soon he was inside, feeling warmer than he thought he should. Leaving the groceries in the kitchen with little more thought to them, he headed out the back door and into the yard.
“Welcome home, Kensei!” Mashiro chimed as she looked up upon hearing the door close. She turned her attention back to the garment she was scrubbing but noticed when his shadow was cast over her. Straightening her back, she looked up to him. Her hair fell into her eyes again, and before she could dry her hands to move it away, he gently brushed the strands back behind her ear. The movement was automatic, but once he realized he’d done it, he let his fingers linger for a moment. When he noticed the pink in her cheeks, he quickly moved his hand away.
Clearing his throat, he reached into his kosode and produced the scarf. “I, um, I got this for you today,” he said as he held it out for her to see. Drying her hands, she took it immediately. She held it up to the sunlight and admired it briefly.
“Oh, Kensei! It’s so cute! Thank you so much!” She reached to tie it around her neck, but he eased her hand away and took the scarf from her. Folding it a few times, he wrapped it around her head and tied it beneath her hair. He felt clumsy and was grateful that she suffered him with patience. It was a small indulgence, and he wondered why he wanted it. Once the scarf was in place, she looked up at him again and smiled. “How do I look?”
His lips twitched but didn’t quite form a smile. “Does it work for you? For your hair, I mean.” Glancing around briefly, he noticed Hachigen making a grand show of pretending not to pay attention to them.
“It does,” she said, her smile fading a little. Absently tugging on a lock of her hair, her eyebrows knitted in thought. “I wanted to cut my hair soon. Do you think I should? I mean, you just bought this for me,” she ran her fingers over the smooth silk, “so there’s no need, is there?” She laughed nervously and cast her gaze aside.

“If you want,” he said noncommittally, laying his hand on her shoulder. A smile finally worked its way onto his face, “But I like your hair like this.” Turning, he went back into the house, leaving her staring after him. He couldn’t explain it, but something was changing; whether it was him or her, he didn’t know for sure, maybe they both were. The only thing he knew with certainty was that he was confounded.

He had been observing the pair of them long enough to figure out who might be responsible for this upheaval. Mashiro was too good, too honest, to have come up with the recent tricks and manipulations she’d implemented, and he knew that Lisa was knowingly and actively lending her pornography. Generally, he had no issues with Lisa, even if she could be impertinent at times, but this was crossing the line. She was corrupting Mashiro, slowly but surely, and he’d have none of it. His Mashiro was supposed to be sweet and innocent, even if intolerably annoying – not a duplicitous, hormonal little beast.

He hadn’t missed all her blushing lately, and he noticed her bare shoulders when he woke her this morning. He couldn’t bring himself to contemplate why she was sleeping naked, but he knew. The thought didn’t even have to fully form in his brain. It was too much for him to comprehend. She was indeed growing up, and he knew he couldn’t ignore the fact. But realizing he genuinely feared seeing more changes in her, he wanted to try to take back control of the situation. He needed to try and keep her just the way she was. If not for his sanity, then for her safety. She was so close to him all the time, he hated to think he might hurt her in some way.
His Hollow had certainly noticed the changes. The bastard was roaring for freedom during their exchange in the yard. It was such an unexpectedly sweet, tender moment and he couldn’t let times like that be ruined. While he’d try to forestall Mashiro’s maturity, he’d also work harder than ever to break his Hollow. Not that it hadn’t been a priority, but he felt like it was more urgent than ever.
He caught Lisa in a rare moment when she was sitting alone in the upstairs common room. He was just passing through, but he paused before reaching the stairs. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t corrupt my lieutenant any further,” he said tersely, and there was no mistake that he was addressing her although he never glanced in her direction.
“She’s not your lieutenant anymore,” Lisa quipped, “but as you wish.” She casually flipped the page of her book and didn’t even look up at him.
He drew in a long breath, wanting to say more, but he left it alone. He was inexplicably angry, and talking to Lisa only agitated him more. That was something to consider: he’d called Mashiro his lieutenant, though he long ago came to terms with the changes in his life. But he’d never called her anything else, apart from using her name, and not since in Seireitei had he vocally shown possession of her, and even then, it was only the office and not the person. Realizing Lisa’s words struck a chord in him, he stomped down the stairs and into the dining room.

He never once tasted the food, as his body ran on autopilot. Just what the hell was Mashiro to him?

Kensei hated laundry duty. This week was his and Shinji’s turn. He’d cook, clean, and walk the four-mile round trip to town all day long, but he hated laundry. There was something inherently unappealing about being elbow-deep in water for hours at a time, especially this close to winter. He entered Mashiro’s unoccupied room to gather the laundry she had, as usual, neglected to provide for washing before she left for town. As he gathered her discarded garments, he noticed one in particular, the dark blue juban she wore the night before. What caught his attention was that it was tangled in her bedding, but what held his attention was a conspicuous stain. He knew, in a glance, exactly what it was.

His body immediately reacted. He could smell sex, could feel her warm depths enveloping him. The most primal part of him knew now that she was prime for mating, and on that very basic, instinctual level, he wanted her. Right now. It wasn’t a conscious thought, but he couldn’t argue with his body. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try his best to ignore it, though.
Taking the laundry downstairs and into the yard, he made a mental note to ensure he personally washed Mashiro’s clothing. Perhaps to spare her any embarrassment, or to spare Shinji of it; he didn’t know, but he couldn’t deny feeling protective. He had finally decided, after these long weeks of observing the changes in her, that he wanted to blame it on paternal instinct, but in light of his most recent discovery, he actively began doubting that. He didn’t feel like a father to her, not really, and especially not when he had so recently become aroused by her scent and visible evidence of her maturity.
Kensei didn’t expect this to become an issue, but in the following nights and days, he found Mashiro’s presence troubling and his ensuing thoughts problematic. He found sleep elusive and all other pursuits difficult. All his thoughts strayed to her with alarming frequency; eventually he gave in. If the only relief he could find was in release, then so be it. In the dark solitude of his room each night, a white hot reminder of forbidden fruits pouring over his hand was all he had to keep his strange newfound desires at bay.

That wasn’t the only thing he needed to keep at bay. He waged secret daily wars with his Hollow, whom protested against so much self-control and self-deprivation. Where Kensei would rationalize away the untoward feelings that were steadily growing, his Hollow would have utter fulfillment. That demanding, demeaning notion frightened him. Paternal instinct or not, he wouldn’t dream of hurting her. Training was so far fruitless and in fact, his Hollow revolted against him. Dangerous didn’t begin to describe the situation. He was afraid he might eventually lose this fight.

“He is being so serious lately. I mean, he’s always so serious, but even more now. It’s so funny when he gets that wrinkle between his eyes. I just wanna smack his forehead and tell him to smile!” Mashiro giggled and Lisa found the sound infectious, even if she didn’t necessarily find the topic that amusing. “I used to think we would get married one day,” Mashiro said in a squeaky tone. “Is that silly?”
Lisa rolled her eyes as she flipped from her stomach to her back. “Incredibly, but I was right. You love him, don’t you?” She glanced above her head where Mashiro sat on the floor by her futon. The girl blushed.
“Of course I love Kensei! He’s my very best friend.” A hint of sadness touched her otherwise bright eyes. “He’s the only one who hasn’t abandoned me.”
Lisa didn’t know much about the Mashiro sitting there on her floor and gushing about love, and she knew even less about a past Mashiro that was repeatedly abandoned and then rescued by the most unlikely person possible – but so many others, herself included, had a rough early life in Rukongai. She understood Mashiro’s sentiment and sympathized deeply with her, even if she wouldn’t show it.
“I mean, you love him. Like that,” Lisa emphasized certain words to force Mashiro’s understanding without using words that now seemed to shut her down vocally. It didn’t work.
“What do you mean?” She shook her head. “I don’t get it.”
Lisa sighed and rolled to her stomach again, glancing at Mashiro over the rims of her glasses. “I mean, you desire him sexually.” Mashiro’s jaw dropped. “I’ve seen the way you look at him lately. I dare you to tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“I-I…I…”
…………………………
Kensei heard faint noises coming from across the hall, hushed tones and whispers that seemed out of place for so late in the evening. He could pinpoint who and where, but not why. Mashiro and Lisa weren’t exactly what he would consider friends, so the giggles he heard some minutes later were even more incongruous and perplexing. Hadn’t he warned Lisa to stay away from her? He began listening intently for any sound.
Very little made it to his ears for long moments, and curiosity got to him. Standing in the hallway, there was no mistaking what he heard: a conversation about him, and Lisa was insinuating things that she shouldn’t, making suggestions, planting ideas. She really was the one responsible for Mashiro’s changed behavior, and his anger at this swelled rapidly.
And then his vision went white.
Lisa jerked up when her door busted open, and she was horrified to see a Hollowfied Kensei standing where the door used to be. Mashiro yelped and scrambled to her feet.
Kensei grabbed Lisa by her hair, picking her up and letting her dangle for too long. She screamed in pain, and already footsteps were running to her rescue. Kensei slammed her against the wall and held her by the throat, and in an eerie echo of his voice, proclaimed, “She’s mine.”
Mashiro, who was too surprised at first to react, now ran to Lisa’s aid. Grabbing his free arm, she pulled with all her might. “Kensei, stop! You’re hurting her!”
Shaking Mashiro from his arm, he backhanded her to the floor, his eyes never leaving Lisa. “Mine.”
Rose and Love arrived just in time to witness Mashiro hitting the floor and wasted no time in freeing Lisa, who was now lingering on the edge of consciousness. Rose immediately left the room with her in his arms as Love and Shinji tackled Kensei to the ground. Though thinking it a strange turn of events, Hiyori tried to tend Mashiro’s bruised face, but the girl wouldn’t let her.
“Kensei, why?” Mashiro said to the not-yet-himself subdued man, tears in her voice.
“Mine…” the voice said. “You’re…mine.”
Mashiro crawled over to him hesitantly. Touching the surface of his mask, it crumbled beneath her fingers. She watched his eyes, as the black drained away and her Kensei returned. And then she saw sadness and regret. Unable to bear that expression, she fled from the room.

Shinji and Love released their hold, but Kensei remained in a prone state on the floor. With an unexpected pleading in his voice, he glanced at Shinji. “Please protect her.” Shinji nodded once in understanding. So…unusual were the events that transpired, but he wouldn’t question what had happened, only what he could do to make good on his promise.

An eerie silence lingered in the house in the days that followed.

Lisa bore no ill will toward Kensei. When the Hollow side took over, they inevitably turned against one another, and this was a fact they’d all come to accept. Moreover, she learned that night a lot about the secrets Kensei harbored beneath that cool exterior. She was confident she could tell Mashiro that he returned her feelings, since she so obviously had to spell everything out for Mashiro. The poor thing hadn’t left her room in days, and considering the events that led to it, Lisa thought it best to keep her distance for a while. Who knew Kensei would snap over a little girl bonding time? At any rate, her resources were being better spent keeping Rose from murdering Kensei. Though Rose understood as well as any the currently unpredictable nature of their Hollows, the two men didn’t exactly get along to begin with.
No one spoke of that night, which was the usual protocol for such incidents, but Kensei did find a brief, private moment in which to apologize to Lisa. The scratches on his hand and wrist, where she’d tried to claw herself free, didn’t register with him until the morning after, and seeing the bloody marks was a constant reminder, laying the guilt heavily on his conscience. No matter how irrationally angry he was, he could find no excuse for hurting anyone.
And he’d hurt Mashiro. The very thing he feared the most had occurred. He wanted – no, needed – to apologize, find some way to make amends and ease her fears. He needed her to know that she could trust him, but he also needed to know that he could trust himself, so he avoided her at all costs. Nevertheless, guilt was eating him alive. He hit her hard enough to black her eye, to knock her to the floor. He didn’t even have the self-awareness to recognize that familiar hold on his arm. He was scared that she would be afraid of him, would hate him. That thought, above all others, terrified him.
Mashiro, however, was in the worst shape of them all.
She didn’t leave her room unless she absolutely must, and she was even shirking her cleaning duty to avoid Kensei. No one really knew how to approach her, had no idea what she was feeling or thinking. Lisa heard her crying at night, and her heart ached a little for the girl. Kensei heard it, too, and as much as he wanted to fix it, make her stop, he just couldn’t.
As much as Mashiro wanted her life to return to normal, she failed to see how it ever could. She missed those moments when Kensei would almost smile at her and make her heart beat wildly. She even missed him calling her an idiot and yelling at her. But things had changed, and she couldn’t see Kensei the same. She knew he didn’t mean to hurt her, but the physical pain was a small thing compared to the emotional heaviness. Over the week, she’d only seen Shinji and Love, who selflessly took time out of their day to bring meals to her and make small talk. Both offered her reassurances, but the words sounded empty. She needed to hear it from Kensei himself.
Tonight, she was surprised that Hiyori brought her dinner. The blonde sat the tray on a small table and folded her arms over her chest. “Yanno, you can come down and get it yourself. We’re not gonna hurt ya.” Mashiro looked at her with wide eyes and immediately began sobbing.
“Why are you crying?!” Hiyori shouted at the girl, but to no avail. “We’re sick’a waitin’ on you hand’n foot. Quit yer cryin’ and move on, will ya? Not like we haven’t all been in yer shoes before.” Turning, she stomped out of the room and slammed the door so hard the wood frame cracked.
Mashiro started at the sound, and though her sobbing abated, the tears still flowed. She heard a brief shouting match downstairs, and then she heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. She knew that gait so well. Wiping her face, she cleared her throat and turned toward the window. If he came in, she wouldn’t let him see her cry.
The door opened, and she heard the cracked wood splinter. Kensei muttered a curse under his breath, knowing he’d have to fix the damn thing, and stepped into the room. He didn’t say a word and she didn’t acknowledge him. She didn’t know how to. After what felt like an interminable silence, he crossed the room and, falling to his knees behind her, pulled her into his arms. Her body tensed, but she allowed the contact, fresh tears spilling silently.
When the silence lingered overlong, he leaned back on his heels and turned her to face him. She kept her head down, ashamed to show her tears. Hiyori had made her feel so stupid for being upset, so she knew Kensei would be just as angry with her. When she continued to avoid him, he reached out and lifted her chin with a single finger. That she didn’t flinch or shy away was good for his conscience. He took inventory of her face: perfect pink pout, cute upturned nose, big sad eyes, tear stained cheeks and an ugly yellow cheekbone. The bruise still hadn’t completely faded, a blow to his conscience that her lack of adverse reaction had previously redeemed. Gently running his thumb over her marred flesh, he shook his head in pained disbelief. “I’m…so sorry.” His voice was only a breath of a whisper, but she heard it.
Leaning into his touch as he cupped her face, she closed her eyes. “I know Kensei would never want to hurt me.” He smiled at her tearful words, relieved that he hadn’t lost her trust. She believed her words wholeheartedly; smiling and closing her eyes, a few more tears escaped. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
Stunned, he stared at her in speechlessness, and then finally finding a way to react, he pulled her close to him. “Idiot. I’m not mad. Not at you.” He was mad at himself, and as he held her next to him, she began to understand that, too. Put at ease by his reassurance, she relished their closeness. He was so warm, and he smelled earthy, like pine and smoke and musk – such a comforting scent, so thoroughly him. She could fall asleep right there in his arms. All was right in her world again.
“You should eat; your food’s getting cold,” he said after a while. They’d sat together for probably too long to be decent or normal for friendship, but neither seemed to care as they were slow to separate. As Mashiro reached for her tray, Kensei rose to his feet but she stayed him.
“Will you…will you stay with me? Just for a little while?” She looked up to him, and the loneliness in her eyes convinced him. She’d been shut away in her room for nearly a full week, and it was probably the longest they’d been apart since…since…ever. He felt like, maybe this once, he could admit to her that he missed her, too. Sitting on the floor by her as she ate, he kept quiet. The companionship was nice, and the longer he sat and watched her, the more he realized how much he missed her. His world just wasn’t the same without her turning it upside down every day.
When Mashiro finished eating, he scolded her lightly for not helping him lately with the chores. It was more of an excuse to stay with her a little longer, to draw her into an argument for the sake of normalcy, but neither anticipated talking all night. Not that they really had much to say, but they found all manner of topic to discuss, reminiscing on old times and getting into petty arguments over unimportant things, like the color of the walls in the Ninth Division training hall. He didn’t know when they fell asleep, or that they even had, but when he awoke on her floor with a stiff neck, the bright sunlight told him it was midmorning.

Watching her sleeping form, he laughed quietly at her drooling. He still hadn’t figured out what she was to him. Subordinate, companion, friend…they were all really the same to him; he lacked a capacity to really distinguish. There were allies and enemies and not much between or outside. She had been by his side for so long that she just kind of was. She was another part of him, not really something external. He knew that thinking it was dangerous, but he was having some unusual feelings for her lately; he knew what it was to be in love, but this was a bit different. What was it?

Today.

“Just try to remember what you were feeling, what you were thinking that night. Try to recreate that.”
It would end today.
Lisa unknowingly took a few steps back; Shinji waited with zanpakuto propped on his shoulder.
He wouldn’t have to worry anymore. She would be safe from him.
As Kensei’s mask materialized, Shinji stepped up. He promised Kensei he’d protect Mashiro, and this was one of the few ways he could try to do that. It wasn’t much, but it could be, if Kensei defeated his Hollow today.
Lisa kept an eye on the time while the others took turns fighting Kensei, and while she watched she grew angrier with each passing second. He was forcing himself through this more frequently than the others for Mashiro’s sake. That girl should be here to see it, at least once. This was the price of his love, and she didn’t understand how high the cost was. She hadn’t gone through it like the others.
“Lisa! Time?” Love shouted as he dodged a cero.
“About forty minutes.” She looked to Shinji. “This is taking too long. None of us have taken this long.”
“I know,” he said casually. “Love, keep ‘im down!”

Love tackled the massive Hollow to the ground and struggled against him to keep him pinned. Shinji walked over and, using his scabbard, busted the mask. Awareness came to Kensei quickly, and he wrestled Love out of the hold. Coming off the ground, he exploded. “Goddamnit, Shinji! I was so close!” He wanted to punch something, but considering the only thing he had nearby were two guys who’d step up to the challenge, he stormed off, kicking up dust in his wake.

“Welcome home, everyone!” Mashiro smiled as her companions filed into the house, each uttering some type of greeting as they passed through the kitchen and into the common room beyond. Kensei barely acknowledged her though, and he continued to the stairs instead of seating himself at the table with everyone else. Lisa was the last to come in, and she stayed back with Mashiro, watching Kensei as he disappeared up the stairs.

“He had a pretty rough day,” Lisa said quietly. “He’s not mad at you, so don’t worry.” Mashiro nodded in understanding and Lisa joined the others. Once she served dinner for everyone, she prepared a tray and took it up to Kensei’s door.
Knocking gently, she waited for him to answer, but he didn’t even call out. Knocking again, she tried to get his attention. “Kensei? I…I brought dinner for you.” No response. “I’m, I’m sorry you had a bad day…I made all your favorites! See, there’s beef, and, and udon…” Still, he made no reply. “Okay…I’ll just leave this for you, then.” Setting the tray on the floor, she returned to the kitchen, where she ate by herself. Lisa had assured her that Kensei wasn’t mad at her, but it sure felt like it. Having fallen asleep within those few minutes was impossible for him – and he was such a light sleeper, anyway – and there was nowhere else for him to go upstairs but his room. Regardless, he would have heard her. He was intentionally ignoring her. Bad day or not, it still bothered her.
……………………….
He had mere seconds to consider the options. The downside to his room being right by the stairs was that he heard literally everything that happened there, like Lisa stumbling drunkenly to her room at all hours. The upside was that he heard literally everything that happened there, like Mashiro carefully making uneven steps as she tried not to lose her balance while, say, carrying a tray of food. Hearing the rattle of dishes as she climbed the stairs, he paused. Surely she wouldn’t come into his room uninvited; she never had, and he didn’t think she’d start now. Holding his breath, he waited.
She knocked a few times and talked, trying to get him to respond, and though he felt guilty for not responding, he was in no situation to open the door for her. He couldn’t even find his voice to send her away. When he heard her retreating footsteps, slowly, slowly down the stairs, he sighed heavily. Closing his eyes, he could picture her so clearly, hips swaying so effortlessly with each step she took, round ass flexing so tantalizingly beneath her komon. Taking himself in hand again, he ran his fingers up and down the length once before gripping the head tightly. With each stroke, he imagined her soft lips around him, her tongue teasing him…
A deep moan started in the back of his throat and he felt himself close, but he slowed to make it last longer. He needed it to last longer, needed to forget the day and lose himself in thoughts of her. He was still too dangerous…couldn’t have her, couldn’t risk hurting her. Rising from his kneeling position to stand on his knees, he thought of her on all fours before him, that ass high in the air. Pumping hard, he could swear he felt himself inside her, could hear her moans. She would beg him not to go so fast and giggle, look over her shoulder at him with half-lidded eyes. Throwing his head back, a strangled groan escaped as he thrust into his hand, faster now…so close. Bucking hard against his hand, he ground his teeth to keep back the stream of moans and shouts that wanted to come out. He finished with short, fast strokes and watched as he sprayed a stream of white across the floor, biting his lip hard to keep quiet. God, how he wished that mess was on her back, or better yet inside her, where he didn’t have to clean it up.
Easing himself onto his back on the futon, he relaxed and took the time to catch his breath. The sun had disappeared below the horizon, but his thoughts of her had not vanished. Not yet. He couldn’t deny that he harbored a recently discovered but very deep lust for her, but for him to ignore his baser instincts and continue to protect her…maybe it was time for him to admit that he loved her. He was in love with her, as it seemed she consumed his every thought lately. He watched her as she walked, listened more closely as she talked, laughed at her stupid jokes and wasn’t nearly as quick to anger with her as before. Equally fascinating, she responded to him differently now, too; apart from blushing at every contact or compliment, it appeared for all the world that she treated him as an entirely different person just in the way she talked to him. Clearly she still had moments of immaturity or naivety, but it was like she had gained some clarity or insight into him that was previously unknown. He wondered what she was seeing in him that caused her to act and react in a manner so unlike her. As much as he was coming to love this change, it vexed him just as much; no matter what changes had taken place, he still couldn’t have her.
Haphazardly tying on his hakama, he slid his door open just enough to retrieve the tray. She didn’t lie; all his favorites were there, even a red bean mochi dessert. Closing the door, he carried the tray to the table by the window and sat in the darkness, but due to the darkness, he almost missed the little scrap of paper under the edge of his bowl. Reaching to light the lamp, he held up the paper and smiled.

‘Kensei, sorry you had a bad day. You know where to find me if you want to talk.’

When she noticed the tray had disappeared from the hallway, she knew not to expect him to seek her out. He didn’t talk about things, especially not with her. She’d never, in all the long years she’d known him, heard him rationally discuss his feelings or vent. Sure, he’d go around barking orders and yelling at people and make it clear to everyone within earshot that he was angry and sometimes why, but he never so much as uttered an expressly personal word about anything that upset him. This was fact – even if an inconvenient truth – but she didn’t expect him to change. That she even extended the offer was entirely new for her, and so long as he knew she was thinking of him, then her mission was accomplished.

Sleep evaded her expertly. Midnight had just barely passed, she guessed, but she’d been tossing and turning for hours. Her mind focused on Kensei and never strayed; her thoughts were filled with all the sweet and romantic moments she could conjure. He was so serious all the time, and it was a stretch to imagine, but she wanted so much to believe that he could be a different person with her, show her a different side that no one else would ever see. Growing impatient to see these things happen, and impatient with herself for wanting them so desperately, she rolled out of bed and, pulling on the wool komon she’d been wearing that day, slipped out of her room and down the stairs.
Sitting on the back steps outside the kitchen, Mashiro looked out on the setting moon. The November night air was cold but still, unlike her thoughts, which were constantly in motion. She wished he was there with her to enjoy the silence. Maybe he’d wrap his arm around her to keep her warm, and they could savor the moment; maybe he’d lean in and kiss her, just once, no words required. This night had the potential to be perfect. Sighing, she wrapped her arms around her knees and glanced up at the stars. Would she ever know what that was like? To feel him so close, in such an intimate embrace, to feel his lips on hers, his hands on her…
Behind her the door opened and closed, and though the sound startled her, she didn’t turn to look. She recognized the footsteps that approached her, and it sent a chill through her body. It was as though thinking of him was a summons. As she waited for him to speak or sit or do anything, she felt the heavy fabric of his hanten as he draped it over her shoulders. Smiling, she pulled it around her body and watched as he sat beside her on the step. He was wearing a black yukata, but barely, as it fell open to expose his chest and most of his legs. Her heart was racing.
“It’s cold out here,” he said quietly, looking out at the sky. She didn’t miss the irony of his words. Wearing a small smile, she hummed in agreement and watched him. He still didn’t look at her, but she didn’t mind. He was there with her to enjoy the silence. After sitting together for a while, Mashiro felt a breeze kicking up, and it cut straight through her clothes; Kensei never flinched.
“I can’t sleep,” she said at last, pulling the hanten tighter around her body, huddling into its warmth. Breathing in deeply, she could smell his scent on it.
Inching closer to her, he put his arm around her and pulled her to him. “Neither can I.” He looked at her for the first time, taking a moment to admire the reflection of moonlight in her eyes as she stared out at its fullness. “It’s really too cold out here,” he said right against her ear. His hot breath set her to shivering again. “Maybe we should go inside and make…tea?”
She turned her head just slightly, not expecting his face to be so close to hers. Looking into his eyes, she saw a little of what she wanted to believe was love and longing and desire. Oh, she wanted to believe it so badly! Maybe the scene would play out just as it had in her head.
“Sure,” she smiled softly and waited. She felt every breath he took, every small movement he made. Counting every heartbeat, she waited. He was still so close and hadn’t moved away in the slightest, and he was still looking at her with that intense gaze that she could swear was watching the nervous twitching of her lips as she tried to maintain a smile. This might be it; he might really…
Holding her tighter, he smiled. “C’mon, let’s get inside.”
Tea was just tea, much to her dismay, but she found that the time they spent together in the wee hours of the morning had a different feel than any other time. There was a certain intimacy, in whispering and in keeping the lights low, in quietly laughing at privately shared jokes and in saying so much without speaking a word, that just wasn’t there in the daytime. These times with Kensei were the moments she was coming to love the most; this was when she could see that side of him that no one else would ever see.

She felt guilty for wanting more from him.

He still had money to burn, and this week’s trip to town found him in want of getting rid of more of it. It was only as he passed by a stall that he remembered it, but he recalled she had a particular fondness for flowers, and being the dead of winter, there were none to be had. Except these silk ones, which were crafted beautifully but priced like they belonged to Emperor Meiji himself. He haggled with the vendor relentlessly, insisting he only wanted one and wouldn’t pay for a single bloom more, and in the end, he had a little yellow one to take home. He surprised her with it from behind, sneaking up on her in the yard as she did the laundry, holding the little thing before her as he towered over her. She dropped the garment she was washing and, taking the flower and his hand, turned in his arms with a delighted gasp. She allowed him to tuck the flower behind her ear, and she thanked him with a deep blush on her cheeks and stars in her eyes. Hachigen again pretended not to observe the scene, but he wasn’t the only one watching them this time. Shinji swept leaves from the back porch, but his eyes never left the couple in the yard.

Kensei knew the others watched and he didn’t particularly care. Not that he felt like shouting his love from rooftops – he decidedly wasn’t the romantic type, and certainly not that ridiculous – but he needed witnesses. These little gifts and niceties, and spending more time with her to give her a different type of attention – these were to buy time. He needed to keep the pace slow so he could have time to beat his Hollow. He refused to let himself hurt her again, but he knew he couldn’t trust himself to hold true to that. It was an unfortunate circumstance, but he needed someone watching his every move around Mashiro, and he noticed that Shinji was doing just that, according to his promise. Hachigen, he noticed, held an unprecedented fondness for her, and was also vigilant – more likely out of a curiosity or fatherly interest than anything. He couldn’t ask for better witnesses, people to keep an eye on her and more importantly, on him.
Trying to ignore his feelings wasn’t working, so the least he could do was acknowledge them more openly – and it was for her sake as much as his. If he had to purposely go slowly with her and have a chaperone, then so be it. It was all worth it to him to keep her safe. He was proud that he’d somehow managed to strike a balance for the time being that seemed to work for everyone involved.

But he was a very private man. He didn’t like for others to know about his personal life. In the kitchen, where he and Mashiro now liked to have late-night conversations and tea, they were within earshot for Shinji to hear if there was trouble, but Kensei instantly learned to value that time with her even more. Away from prying eyes and ears, they could freely enjoy themselves and connect in ways they never would if they didn’t have a moment alone now and then, yet that one location offered an almost guaranteed safety.

“The others are still up, if you’d rather we join them.”
Mashiro stared into her cup of tea thoughtfully as she considered the option. She enjoyed her time alone with Kensei, but it just wasn’t the same tonight. Nearly everyone else was still awake, even at this late hour, upstairs in the common room and creating a ruckus as they played a drinking game of some sort to celebrate Rose’s victory over his Hollow. She wasn’t opposed to the idea, and she didn’t necessarily want her time with him to end so soon, but she’d almost rather go to bed tonight than hang around with the others. Drinking the last of the tea, she set her cup carefully on the table and made a noncommittal noise. “But I am kind of sleepy.”
He frowned despite himself. “Then you should go on to bed.” Rising from his seat, he cleared the small table of their mess quickly and then guided her to stand, somehow feeling impatient that she hadn’t already done so. Leading her gently to the stairs with a hand on her back, he was surprised when she stopped halfway to the top and turned to face him. Standing one step above him, she was almost at his eye level, but she still had to look up at him. He kept his hand on her back, just over the knot in her obi and yet she could feel the heat from his touch.
“K-Kensei…” Mashiro didn’t even know why she stopped, but a certain feeling washed over her, something compelled her. Not knowing what to say, she looked into his eyes for a long moment, and he waited for her to continue. He could feel it too, that same something compelling him to wait. Neither dared interrupt the silence between them; both unknowingly held their breaths and waited.
And waited.
He could practically hear her heart pounding – or was it his?
As he pulled her closer, she slowly leaned in; with a natural ease his fingers combed through her hair as he cupped her head and brought his lips to hers. Leaning her body into his, she held tightly to his shoulders, fingers pressing firmly into his muscles as she relished the moment and the sensation of his mouth on hers. Time seemed to slow to an agonizingly beautiful crawl, all sound faded except their heartbeats…
“Whoa! What the…!” Shinji exclaimed as he stumbled at the top of the steps. Clinging to the banister, he barked out a jovial laugh at witnessing the pair’s mortified and bewildered faces. He continued to laugh as he moved on, obviously drunk as he stumbled on down and into the kitchen.
Red-faced, Mashiro turned to Kensei again, her sheepish smile illustrating her embarrassment, and her breathlessness left him feeling wholly satisfied. “G-good night,” she said softly, and he barely heard her over the noise returning to his ears. Before he had the chance to respond, she ran up the stairs and around the corner to her room.
Leaning against the wall, Kensei closed his eyes and huffed out a heavy sigh. His Hollow was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, trying to bring him down and take control. It wanted so badly to follow Mashiro to her room, to…

“That was cute,” Shinji slurred out as he put a hand on Kensei’s shoulder. Opening his eyes, he could see clarity in Shinji’s that hadn’t been there before. “I got your back man, and I got hers. But don’t let it get outta hand, alright?” Continuing up the stairs, he added, “I can’t watch you all the time. Sure would hate to break my promise.”

Gently. His hand caressed her face as it came around to rest at the base of her neck; she relished that touch. Gently. His lips lingered on hers just long enough for her to register it, yet it seemed like a sweet eternity. So soft, yet with a hint of the underlying passion that she had wished he felt for her. Though Shinji interrupted them, her first kiss was not wasted.

Closing her eyes, it was him she saw, his intense gaze on her, never looking away. It was him she felt, kissing her, adoring her, filling her completely and bringing her to climax repeatedly. Her breathless whispers in the dark were all silent pleas of his name, begging for him, needing him…oh, so sweetly.
Reality was setting in for Mashiro. It was him. It would only be him. With no other would she ever want to share this. And she realized that it could be a reality, at this point so easily and so terribly soon. She couldn’t be impatient, however; he was being so uncharacteristically tender with her, and that was something that she never wanted to end. Somewhere in her mind, she realized that everything between them was changing, and that suddenly frightened her. She wanted everything to change and yet stay the same somehow. Her Kensei would always be her Kensei, but what if it didn’t work out so well? What if she…lost her Kensei somehow?

She could only think positively, because anything less than Happily Ever After scared her.

He couldn’t watch all the time, but Shinji found it was quickly becoming a full-time occupation.

He didn’t notice it before, but he picked up on their late-night rendezvous in the kitchen. They met there just about every other night, though there was no exact pattern to the frequency, and the time and duration always varied. They drank tea and talked, and the evening ended with a kiss on the stairs, and so far as Shinji could tell, that’s all that happened during those meetings. During the day, they didn’t interact much, but that’s not to say that they didn’t have opportunities to sneak off somewhere… Fortuitously, the chore schedule was arranged so that they were almost never alone together unless they made time, and apart from Shinji’s shopping day, he was usually around. When he was gone, there were plenty of others around to rescue Mashiro should something unexpected and untoward happen.
And he watched. He kept vigil so loyally, even when it felt downright rude to pry into their most intimate moments, even when it detracted from his personal time. He made a promise to Kensei, and he was hellbent on keeping it; Mashiro would stay safe, no matter the cost. Kensei was physically the strongest of the group, meaning his Hollow was tenfold as strong, and that meant Mashiro was in real physical danger. And she almost completely shut down emotionally after the last incident, so he couldn’t imagine the repercussions of something much worse happening.
But for the moment, all he observed was the same as he ever observed between them before the recent developments – apart from the latest additions of some innocent flirting and quick kisses when they thought no one was looking. And that was sort of the problem Shinji started having after a week or so of utter vigilance. They were starting to sneak off, finding places to hide, and by the time they were gone he realized it too late to follow.
Kensei, however, didn’t actually realize what he was doing. He knew Shinji was keeping watch, and while he was grateful, he subconsciously wanted more than anything to be alone with Mashiro and to share private moments with her that no one should be allowed to watch for any reason. And besides, she thought it was great fun to sneak around and feel like they shared a secret. He was happy to indulge her. Honestly, their trysts were completely innocent, as he knew he couldn’t allow himself to have too much fun, but they enjoyed the time together and the thrill of feeling like they were getting away with something.
A frightening consequence of spending so much time with her, however, was that he was losing sight of his goal, and Shinji noticed that too. Kensei wasn’t training as much or as hard, and he had yet to challenge his Hollow since the last failed attempt nearly a month earlier.

Time seemed to pass too quickly, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Hiyori and Lisa had gone into the house some minutes ago, but Mashiro lingered behind to soak in the bath. So rarely did any of them get to bathe alone – for the sake of convenience and conserving firewood – so she relished the moment and relaxed. Her life was changing so rapidly, and she barely found the time to process all the new information and experiences she was receiving. Kensei…he loved her, she was sure, but somehow she knew she’d never hear him say it. Always a man of action, he found words redundant. But it sure would be nice to hear…

Sinking further into the warm water, Mashiro glanced out the small window high on the wall. The sun was setting, and she knew she should get inside soon. This was an unusually cold December. Loath to even move, she pulled her body out of the bath, the cold air pricking her skin from shoulders to knees. What would he think of her body? Pushing her breasts together and up, she gave them a critical stare. Would he think her too curvy, not curvy enough? Too thin, too plain? He kept his personal life back in Seireitei such a secret that she didn’t know what type of women he dated, or that he even did. He apparently found her attractive enough, but she wondered what he liked and disliked about her.
Drying quickly, she wrapped herself in as many layers as possible and disregarded her hair as she stepped to the door. Already she could feel the cold draft coming in around the door, but there was nothing for it: she’d make a run for the house to get inside as quickly as possible. Sliding the door open, she eased down the steps, but before she could begin her dash, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye.
“Kensei!” Straightening her back, she shuffled nearer to her consort, whom was sitting against the corner with Tachikaze by his side. He was dressed in a yukata though, which meant his reason for being there was more of an emergency. “What are you doing out here?”
He glanced over to her and then came to his feet, leaving Tachikaze in the grass. “Huge Hollows, not too far away.” She came closer to him as he spoke. “Shinji and Hiyori went to take care of ‘em, but…you know.” He almost smiled, and she could guess what he wanted to say, that he wanted to protect her.
“Hope you’re better dressed than your gigai if you have to fight,” Mashiro smiled as he leaned against the wall. Holding his hand out to her, she accepted it and he pulled her to him, their bodies becoming flush. Putting an arm around her, he responded to her verbal jab.
“Much better, but this is more convenient for the moment.” He gave her his patented deep-scowl-and-evil-grin combination expression, and she automatically felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She didn’t really know what he meant by that, but she had a feeling she was about to find out. As he held her tightly, he spun them both around the corner and pressed her against the wall.
Her heart was racing as she watched his lips in anticipation, and she was soon rewarded when he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. It was only a tease of a kiss, but gradually he deepened it and poured into it his passion and longing. He’d never kissed her like this, and it was a wholly exhilarating and overwhelming sensation. And if that wasn’t overwhelming enough, his hands slid down from her face and neck to the curve of her breasts and, cupping them, he squeezed gently. Her heart leapt into her throat and she moaned, held tight to his yukata in an effort not to completely come unglued.
Responding to her moan, his hands slid down farther, past the curve of her hips, and gripping the backs of her thighs, he easily lifted her. She held on for dear life, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, and she was pleasantly surprised that he never broke the kiss. Until now. Pulling back, he used one hand to jerk open the top of her komon, exposing her breasts, and then to push aside the rest, baring her legs all the way to her hips. Embarrassed, she reached to close the garment again. “Someone will see…” she whispered, but he moved her hand away and guided it over his shoulder.
“No one’s watching. No one can see anything.” His voice was even deeper than usual, and his whisper was less of a growl than normal – an entirely unfamiliar yet intoxicating sound. Readjusting his grip on her, he was now holding her up with a hand on her bare ass, and even that somehow embarrassed her. This was going so fast; her head was spinning. He claimed her lips in a bruising kiss as he massaged one breast, and with all haste his kisses left her mouth and trailed down her neck and to her other breast. As he teased her nipples with tongue and with callused fingers, his other hand found employment. His fingertips could just reach her cleft, and he could feel how wet she was. Feeling him touch her there, she bucked hard against him and ground her teeth to keep from screaming out in surprise. Her reaction, however, seemed to spur him into action; abandoning her small but perky breasts – that he was learning to love ever so much – he reached his other hand between them and ran his finger over her clit a few times, which elicited the most heart-wrenching, compelling, and thoroughly arousing sounds he’d ever heard her make. She was literally dripping wet.
Mashiro didn’t know how to tell him, or if she even should, but he’d so easily brought her to climax – without even trying, it seemed. It was always so much harder when she did it herself, but she’d never wanted it so much as she did in this moment. But he seemed encouraged and as though he was far from done with her. Her whole body trembled as he pushed aside his yukata, and then she felt it, that mythical beast she both feared and desired. As he positioned himself and took a wider stance, knees against the wall almost, she held her breath. His face was intense and he avoided her gaze…
Slamming her hard against the wall, he was inside her before she knew what happened, and he kept moving, a combination of bouncing her and thrusting upward, banging his knees hard on the wall with each movement. For a moment – only a very brief moment – he had forgotten why he’d spent all that time moving so slowly forward with her, and once he remembered why, he had a brief moment – about the time he felt how tight and wet she was as he rammed his cock into her – where he thought he might actually make it through this without losing control. But as he listened to her enraptured sounds, watched her pouty lips make the most incredible and kissable shapes, felt her body move against his, he realized that he was crazy for ever thinking it.

Slowing when he could, so as not to come to a sudden and disappointing halt, he looked at her directly. “Mashiro,” he breathed, and his voice came out in that eerie echo. When she looked into his eyes, she saw the black seeping in, and he knew it by the horror-stricken look in her eyes. “Run.” Pulling out of her and easing her onto her feet, he walked in the opposite direction of the house, looking back once to see her running for the back porch. He was relieved that she listened to him, instead of doing something incredibly brave and stupid, like following him. He hated that it ended this way, but it could have been much worse. And because it wasn’t, he was thankful.

Mashiro didn’t even register how cold she was until she was inside the kitchen. Pulling her komon tighter around her body and readjusting the obi that had come loose, she peeked into the common room. Lisa and Rose sat together in the midst of what might be a heated argument; quietly she slipped around the corner and to the stairs. It was impossible that they didn’t notice her, but she was more concerned with interrupting them than being noticed. So far as she could tell she was decent for public viewing, but she wanted them to know that whatever they were discussing was something in which she held no curiosity. Not right now, anyway.
In her room, Mashiro absently combed her hair as she tried to focus her thoughts. Tachikaze! Practically throwing her comb across the room, Mashiro ran down the stairs and out through the kitchen, yet again probably interrupting Lisa and Rose, but she didn’t care this time. Out in the yard by the bathhouse, she found Kensei’s faithful zanpakuto still lying where he left it. Picking it up reverently, she carried it in with her, this time in less of a hurry. As she passed through the common room again, Rose took notice of the sword Mashiro carried and thought it odd.
“Where’s Kensei?” He stopped his conversation with Lisa to ask.
Mashiro paused. “He’s, um…I don’t know.” Shrugging, she went back to her room. As she laid Tachikaze beside her own zanpakuto, a soft knock came at her door. It wasn’t Kensei; she frowned. “Come in,” she said as she sat in front of her mirror again.
Lisa slid into the room and closed the door behind her. “You’re going to hate me,” she began, “but we might have kind of caught a glimpse of…the two of you outside.” Kneeling beside Mashiro, a sympathetic look crossed her face. “What happened? Where did he go?”
A hesitant smile flashed over her face, a meager effort to reassure Lisa. “There was…almost an…incident,” she meted out agonizingly slowly, as though inflicting some sort of punishment on herself. It wasn’t her fault, but she still felt she was to blame. “He ran off to calm down. No big deal, right?”
Lisa saw straight through the fake smile. “Right in the middle of it, huh?” She shook her head. “Don’t be disappointed,” she said as Mashiro shook her head more in dismay than disagreement. “And stop acting like it’s your fault. It happens, okay? At least he still had the presence of mind to get away from you before he hurt you. Can you imagine,” she swallowed hard, and Mashiro took note of the tears at the corners of her eyes, “what kind of damage that can do, emotionally? You can still trust him. Be thankful for that.” A tear accidentally escaped, and Mashiro gasped.
“Lisa-chan, what’s wrong? Are you and Rose-kun fighting?” She reached out to the woman she thought of as a friend, but Lisa pulled away defensively, even if she didn’t mean to be cold.
“Yeah, a little bit,” she lied. “Don’t worry about me, alright?” As she wiped the errant tear away, she forced a smile onto her face. “You’ll be all right too, won’t you?” Mashiro nodded halfheartedly, but Lisa didn’t protest. “So, you still haven’t told me: how was he?”
“Lisa-chan!” Mashiro blushed. “Do I really have to answer that?”

When Lisa stared hard at her over her glasses, Mashiro knew she couldn’t escape it. So much for having any secrets.

More than an hour passed. Shinji and Hiyori had long ago returned, and yet Kensei was still missing in action. Mashiro wasn’t a worrier, but he was out there, somewhere in the cold and dark night, unarmed, and with Hollows recently in the area, so she worried this time. Lisa remarked on his long absence, and it made her worry even more. But even as Lisa suggested they go out to look for him, Mashiro’s ears picked up on the faint sound of footsteps ascending the stairs.
“He’s home,” she said, and she couldn’t help her smile.
“I’ll leave you, then,” Lisa said and removed herself from the room before Mashiro could utter another word.

The sound of Lisa’s door closing was closely followed by the sound of Kensei’s door opening and closing, and Mashiro didn’t wait. Taking up Tachikaze, she crossed the hall and tapped softly on his door, unable to find her voice to call out to him. When he didn’t respond immediately, she took a deep breath and did something she’d never done: she opened his door without invitation.

The only light in the room came from the faint glow of a lamp in Rose’s room next door, and it cast a golden light and long shadows across everything in Kensei’s room, including Kensei, who stood in the middle of it with his black yukata pooled at his feet. As Mashiro stepped in and closed the door, he glanced at her over his shoulder and took note of her wandering gaze. Her eyes couldn’t leave him, it was true, as she admired the lines and curves of his body. He looked like a golden statue, perfectly sculpted and unmoving.
“I…I brought Tachikaze for you,” she said helpfully as she took another step into the room. For a long moment he didn’t respond, but then he turned, slowly, and took a few steps toward her. She tried to keep her focus on his face, too embarrassed to look down. Holding the zanpakuto out to him, she darted her eyes away as he took his blade carefully.
“Thank you,” he said in a strained voice and then propped his faithful friend against the wall. Standing straight, he captured her chin with thumb and forefinger and directed her gaze to him. “You shouldn’t be here. Not tonight. It’s too dangerous.”
Her features quivered briefly before she replied. “I’m not afraid, Kensei.”
Nothing in her voice made him doubt her, but he undeniably doubted himself. Dropping his hand to his side, he took a step backward. “You should be.” Turning away, he stepped over to the window and looked out at the black sky. He waited for the sound of his door as she left, but it never came.
Reaching behind her, she pulled the knot from her obi and loosened it enough for it to fall to the floor. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she slid her komon and juban from her shoulders. Kensei must have heard the fabric swishing as it fell to the floor, as he turned toward her at the sound. She couldn’t read his expression; nervously she took a few steps toward him. “Do…do you like…m…” Her insecurity and shyness visibly affected her posture; keeping her eyes downcast, she waited for Kensei to respond to her half-asked question.
As he knelt before her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and glanced up her body to her face. “I do.” He placed a kiss on her stomach. “Everything about you.” She relaxed a little and placed her hands on his shoulders, relieved that he seemed to know her so well, to answer her question so perfectly and say just the thing to put her at ease. Something in his voice, in his touch, told her that no matter how distant he seemed or how ill his temper, he still always held her in his affections. Releasing a shaky sigh, she ran her fingers through his hair as he held her tighter, his face pressed against her and his hot breath teasing her. “We shouldn’t,” he forced out with heavy words. “Not tonight.”
“Please, Kensei. I-I want to be near you.” Waiting for a reaction felt like an eternity, but after what seemed like a lengthy mental struggle, he rose to his feet and swept her into his arms. Without a single word, he carried her to his futon and laid her down gently. She watched as he stretched out beside her on his back, and once he seemed comfortable, she nestled her body against his with her arm and leg gently draped over him. She heard him hum appreciatively, and the deep sound, she thought, was definitely something she liked. She’d never heard such a tone in his voice before; he was expressing so many different emotions lately that his voice overall had a different quality. He seemed more…alive.
“I love you, Kensei,” she whispered, and her hot breath on his chest sent chills coursing through his body.
“I don’t want to hurt you again,” he said as he rolled to face her and took her into his arms. Shifting slightly to reach, she kissed him softly, and he didn’t hesitate to return in kind. As he pulled her closer, she could feel his hardening length against her, which simultaneously piqued her curiosity and her arousal. This wasn’t necessarily what she was seeking when she entered his room, but her racing heart and his hot mouth exploring hers made her want it.
As she wrapped her arms around his neck, he rolled her onto her back. He wanted to stop, but already his Hollow was taking over. His body was giving in but not his will, not yet. This was why he warned her; it was entirely too soon to attempt this again, but he couldn’t find it in himself to deny her. He looked into her eyes in earnest pleading. “We should stop, Mashiro. Really.” Her reply was to pull him closer for another kiss. He prayed that he could maintain control this time, for both their sakes.
Feeling his body against hers this way was a sensation she never could have imagined. This time was wholly different from earlier in the evening. She could feel every twitch and fluid movement of his firm muscles as he took his time with her, gently laying a trail of kisses from her neck to her breasts and back again. And as she felt his fingers trace down her thigh and coax it to wrap around him, her body began shaking in nervous anticipation.
This was it. This would be the final test. The last vestiges of his sanity were hanging by a tenuous thread. He hated the notion of rushing through this again, but here he was, poised to enter her and without any will to again vocalize his need to stop. Covering her mouth with his own to stifle any sounds she might make, he eased into her. Her back arched impossibly off the futon as she gasped, breaking the kiss. The downward shift of her hips felt amazing, and he eased into her again. His languid movements set a slow pace that he hoped would help keep his Hollow at bay.
Mashiro had more opportunity this time to process everything that was happening to her. He stretched her and filled her so completely that she realized nothing was a substitute for the real thing. It was painful, but at the same time, she suffered in exquisite bliss. And she felt…she felt…loved, adored. He might not have said it, but she would never doubt it. This was surreal, this was a waking dream.
As he moved faster, he buried his face in her neck. He was losing the fight with each passing second, with each sound she made. She was so wanton, but thinking of her wasn’t helping. And when she dug her nails into his back, the fight was over.
Rising up on his knees, he pulled out of her. Unsure what was happening, she sat up, and even in the dim light, she could see the black and gold of his eyes. He warned her to be afraid, and now, for the first time, she was afraid of Kensei.
And then the light in the next room went out.
Before she could react, he flipped her onto her stomach and pulled her hips into the air. Leaning over her, he whispered in that empty echo, “Don’t scream. Don’t you dare.” With that, he forced himself into her again and grabbed a fistful of her hair as he rode her hard.
She tried so hard not to scream, but she couldn’t help the small sounds that escaped her throat. For some reason the pain was almost unbearable, and her whimpers angered him and made it worse. She felt the fluctuation in spiritual pressure when his mask materialized, and the pain only intensified. He was so much stronger; tears streamed down her face and onto the pillow. His grip on her hips was bruising her, crushing her.
She felt it coming, another fluctuation in his spiritual pressure, and it wasn’t in her favor. He forced her face into the pillow as his body increased in size, transforming to full Hollow. She sobbed as he continued his assault, his increased girth ripping her. The metallic scent of blood filled the air; as she sobbed harder, choking on the cries that wanted to escape her throat, she tried humming a tune from childhood. Anything to take her away from this moment.
Her thoughts went to the old man in Rukongai who had taken her in as an infant. He was a kind man who did his best to care for her, but he died all too soon and left her alone as a small child in a big and frightening world. She wondered if he had done all the things in life he wanted, if he had been fulfilled. Would she die, too, and without a chance to experience all she had dreamed of? A picnic by the river and the sakura blossoms, building a snow fort and waging an icy war, a vacation in the South Pacific islands she read about in Kensei’s book. She wanted to do all these things before she died, and with Kensei; ironic that she could die by his hand tonight. But she wouldn’t. Somehow, she had to get out of this.
After what felt like grueling hours but couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, Mashiro was brought back to reality. The huge Hollow’s body collapsed and forced her hips to the floor. A dull cracking sound was immediately followed by Mashiro screaming out sharply, and as he jerked hard against her, a thick fluid filled her and gushed out, stinging her wounds. He withdrew and as the Hollow body shattered, Kensei fell over on his side, completely unconscious.
Mashiro tried to move when she heard the others coming, and she panicked when she realized she couldn’t stand. Her legs were too weak and she was in extraordinary pain, and lying in a mix of her blood and his semen only seemed to exacerbate her mood. She tried calling out to Kensei, but he was completely unresponsive.
Lisa, having heard some noises beforehand, was already listening intently and was almost panicking when she heard Mashiro’s terrible scream. Knowing ‘an incident’ had occurred, she took a lantern with her. She was first on the scene, and when she opened the door and saw the blood, she nearly dropped the lantern.
“Oh, my god.” She quickly covered the pair of them for modesty’s sake and knelt beside Mashiro. “Hang in there. You’re gonna be okay.” Shinji was next in the room, and when he walked in on the scene, he turned pale. Gathering Mashiro in his arms without hesitation, he carried her past the gathering crowd and out to the bathhouse. Lisa followed and set to heating water as quickly as possible.
“Get her clean and check her out. I’ll try to reach Kensei,” Shinji said quietly. ‘Reach’ was a good word to use, Lisa thought distantly. Who knew how deeply his Hollow had sunk in its claws?
Once the water was prepared, Lisa helped Mashiro into the bath. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, so please tell me if you’re lightheaded.” Mashiro nodded and winced as the hot water hit her fresh wounds. A red cloud formed in the water; Lisa tried to hide her anxiety. She coaxed Mashiro into telling her what had happened. Though she had personally endured similar situations, nothing quite compared to the horror of what Mashiro had just experienced.
“He didn’t mean to do it,” she said in a hoarse voice as she ground her teeth to keep from sobbing again. Even just sitting was excruciating. “He warned me, but I didn’t listen. I was selfish; it’s my fault.”
Lisa didn’t understand how Mashiro could blame herself, and she didn’t think she could be so strong. “It…it’s no one’s fault,” she said, more to comfort herself than Mashiro. “You can’t blame yourself. You…you love him, and…and love can endure a lot of things.” She fell silent then, to let the words sink in for Mashiro and for herself to find solace in them. If not for love, would she so often risk dying at the hands of her lover?
A knock on the door summoned Lisa outside. Shinji looked no less anxious than he had before. “How is she?”
Lisa sighed. “It’s bad. I’m afraid she’ll continue to bleed out, and she won’t be able to walk for weeks.” She pulled her juban tighter around her body to shield herself from the cold breeze. “Shinji, I…I think he broke her hip. She can’t move her leg.”
He grimaced. “But is she…stable?” He also pulled his yukata tighter around his lithe frame, finding the frigid December night far too dark and cold for his tastes.
“I don’t know. I think it’s too soon to tell if the trauma is strictly physical. Listen, we have to get her to Kisuke. Right now, he and Tessai are her only hope for recovery.” Glancing through the cracked door, she could monitor Mashiro. Fortunately the girl was still conscious, though it would honestly be better if she weren’t.

Shinji didn’t hesitate to agree. “You’re right.” Glancing back, he spotted Hiyori standing on the porch, waiting for news or instructions. “Hiyori, clothes.” The girl nodded and disappeared into the house. He turned back to Lisa. “Kensei’s still unconscious, and that’s prob’ly for the best. We’ll get Mashiro out of here tonight and…see what happens.”

Urahara shuffled into the room and plopped down on a cushion by the table, fatigue obvious on his face. Lisa sat up and nudged Shinji, who was snoring softly against the wall. “How is she?” Lisa asked as Shinji started and blinked at Urahara a few times before clearing his throat and pushing himself off the wall.

“She’ll live,” he said as he leaned onto the table and slumped over his arm. “We had to force her out of her gigai and then induce a coma.” Chin never leaving the table, he reached with his other arm and poured a cup of sake. “Fractured hip and femur – pretty nasty damage down there, too.” Rising up, he practically inhaled the sake and slammed the cup down on the table. “Never thought I’d see something like this.”
Lisa fell back against the wall, and Shinji leaned forward, also helping himself to a stiff drink. They were all shaken, but none as visibly so as Urahara. He wanted to know how, why something like this could happen, and since the two of them more so than the others had a more intimate knowledge of the goings-on between Mashiro and Kensei, they were obligated to tell him about the indiscretions and misdeeds of involved parties, the foremost of which was Kensei’s Hollow.
“Something has to be done. This can’t happen again.” No one disagreed on this point and Urahara nodded. It was settled. It would never happen again.

When Kensei awoke, sunlight was just touching the horizon. He had a splitting headache and his entire body burned…and he could remember everything. Easing his body up from the futon, he took note of the blood-soaked bedding and the dried blood that covered him from navel to knees. He’d seen all he needed to. Snatching up his discarded yukata and tying it on hastily, he charged out of his room and across the hall to Mashiro’s. Finding it empty, he raced down the stairs.
Hiyori, Love, and Hachigen were eating breakfast in the common room when he burst in, shouting, wanting to know where she was. Panic was visible in all his features, from his eyes to his body to his voice. When no one responded immediately, out of fear of his reaction, he upended a side table and broke a vase in the process. “Goddamn it, tell me where she is!” Panting, he tugged on his hair and paced in circles until he could beat back his Hollow, which wanted to escape.
“Muguruma-san,” Hachigen said softly, “we will tell you what we know, but you must calm down.” The gentle giant tried to put him at ease with words but was prepared to use binding kidou if he must. Once he was sure Kensei had collected himself, he continued. “Shinji took her to Kisuke to be treated. Lisa is with her also.”
Kensei didn’t hear anything after ‘Kisuke’ and didn’t need to; bounding up the stairs, he wasted no time in dressing, completely forgetting about the blood that covered him. As he ran down the stairs and toward the front door, he heard Hiyori yelling after him.
“Hey, wait up! I’m coming with you!” Abandoning her food, she ran to catch up with Kensei. She had business with Baldy One and Baldy Two today.

“By the way,” Hachigen said quietly as he addressed Love, “where is Rose this morning? He’s usually up by now.” Love didn’t have an answer, but upon trying to learn one, he found the man’s room abandoned and in it, a note.

Tessai had done all he could, and now it was just a matter of time. She probably wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon, but still Kensei sat. He watched and he waited. He couldn’t see how she’d ever forgive him, ever trust him, but he would make sure she heard it from him, that she saw it in his eyes, all his guilt and shame. All his love.
Yoruichi sat beside him and Lisa napped on the other side of the small room. No one could do anything but keep vigil, but it would have to be enough. But the more time that passed, the more doubts he had. He didn’t expect her forgiveness, but how could he ever forgive himself? He’d done the very thing he vowed never to do. A broken promise, no matter to whom he made it, was inexcusable. Unforgivable.
He abandoned his post at her bedside only briefly for lunch, though he didn’t have an appetite, and shortly after Yoruichi came to him with news. Mashiro was awake, and it would figure that she’d come to when he wasn’t there. Yet another failure as a man to add to his list. As he entered the room, Tessai and Lisa filed out quietly. Pausing briefly, Lisa gave him a sympathetic look before continuing on. He’d unfairly placed blame on her for all the changes in Mashiro, but he knew all along that it was inevitable, that she would grow up and learn more of the world and its ways. Instead, he knew he should be grateful to Lisa, for being an unwitting educator and mentor, for being a friend to Mashiro when she really needed one. She was there when he couldn’t be, and he’d never forget that.
When he heard the door snap shut, he quickly closed the distance between them. Falling to his knees beside her, he tried to find the words but none would come. Admitting to his failures was far more difficult than he expected.
“I’m okay, Kensei,” she said quietly as she touched his arm. “It’s okay, really.”
“No, you’re not. And it’s not okay…I’m not strong enough.” He sighed heavily. “You have to stay away from me. It’ll happen again, I know it will. And I can’t bear that.” He looked to her face, and the serene smile she wore disturbed him. How could she be happy?
“Stupid Kensei,” she said weakly, “I’ll never stay away from you.” Her eyes slipped closed slowly, and he waited with bated breath to see if she would continue; however, he soon learned that she was unconscious again, and he hoped it was a restful sleep she was getting. If she dreamed, he hoped it was of him and that it wouldn’t be a nightmare.
After long, quiet minutes a knock came on the door, and Kensei was surprised to see Hiyori and Shinji waiting for him on the other side.
“Sixty-nine minutes and two seconds. That’s all ya get,” Hiyori said as she craned her neck to look up at Kensei, arms crossed over her chest.
Shinji put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Your lucky number, brother.”

Kensei took a moment to absorb the information. Hiyori had finally done it? And for it to take so long, she must have insisted that no one stop her. No one to date had taken that long in a subjugation battle, because they thought it to be dangerous, but Hiyori just proved that it could be done, even if it took over an hour. Well, first to Hollowfy, last to subjugate, and this was somehow…fitting. “Let’s go.”

As Kensei’s battle waged on, Lisa kept watch over the time. He was over the forty-minute mark again; it was only a matter of time. Forty-one minutes and fifty-six, seven, eight seconds. Looking up, she saw Love approaching her. Without uttering a word, he handed her a note and the handwriting was vaguely familiar. Reading it over, her eyes lingered on the last line: “Tell Lisa I’m sorry.”
Tossing the paper to the ground, she ran toward the ladder and abandoned her post.
“Hey, wait! I’m coming with you!” Love called out and jogged toward Lisa. As they disappeared from the underground room, Hiyori muttered a curse under her breath and hoped she could remember how much time had elapsed.
Forty-three minutes and forty-three, four, five seconds. She kept watching the time, even as Shinji fought for his life. If this asshole didn’t pull it off this time, she’d hate them all. She risked her own life just to prove to Shinji that Kensei was in no danger, and she didn’t just make herself a guinea pig for the hell of it. Kensei better do it.
“Hirako! Look out!” Urahara shouted, and they all knew it was almost over.
Forty-eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds. The Hollow body shattered and Kensei fell to the ground. Immediately coming up, he passed by everyone wordlessly and went straight to Mashiro. He knew what he had to do.
Mashiro was sleeping when he entered the room and she was restless. Tessai was trying to ease her, but to no avail, it seemed. Kneeling beside her, Kensei brushed his fingers over her forehead and down her cheek and found her skin clammy. Glancing up at Tessai, the man only nodded, perhaps indicating that she was all right despite appearances. With a low voice, Kensei asked, “How long will her recovery take?”
Tessai considered the question for only a second. “Her wounds will heal soon enough, but she may have to learn to walk again, and that could take several months. And as for fighting, it could be years before she’s in peak condition again.”
Kensei weighed this heavily in his mind. If he’d somehow found the patience to teach her to fight in the first place, then he didn’t think he would take issue with being solely responsible for her recovery. This was a burden he would gladly bear. The time had come. He subjugated his Hollow, thereby ensuring her safety. He’d never hurt her again, and he could feel confident in that. So now, he’d give her some time to heal, and then he wanted to take her away. They’d always only had each other, when it came to it, and he didn’t see why things should be any different now. While they had made friends of their other companions, their presence was at times intrusive. He just wanted to start a new life, and he couldn’t do it without her.
He kept close watch over her, even long into the night when the others had gone home or gone to bed. He wanted to be there when she woke up again, hoping her smile would reassure him. He wanted to tell her the news. And hopefully, he could quell her excitement when he told her of his decision for them.
Close to sunrise, she stirred in sleep, again seeming restless. He didn’t know that he could do anything to ease her pain, but he tried to soothe her as best he could with gentle touches and soft whispers. This seemed to agitate her more. Weakly swatting at his hand, she whimpered almost to the point of sobbing.
“Stop, Kensei,” she uttered and whimpered again. A tear slid from the corner of her eye, and he could see it shining in the dim light from the window. “Why…why are you…don’t! You’re hurting…”
He recoiled in horror, and then the grief fell over him. Regardless of her smiles and reassurances while awake, she truly did fear him. She’d never really forget what he did to her. And he couldn’t live with that.

When Kensei walked through the door, Hachigen was sitting alone at the table with tea and a modest bowl of rice. “How is Kuna-chan?” he asked interestedly, setting his bowl aside to devote his entire attention to the conversation. He’d only stayed behind to keep an eye on things, but he was just as concerned for the green haired girl as the rest had been.
“She’s…sleeping,” Kensei answered as honestly as he could. She wasn’t at rest, she wasn’t at ease, and she wasn’t ‘well’. She was utterly broken, body and spirit, and he was the cause. His heart ached a little more.
“More importantly,” Hachigen said after a sip of tea, “how are you?” When Kensei gave him an odd look, the man elaborated. “In time her body will heal, of this I’m certain. But neither of you can move forward emotionally unless you can come to terms with what has happened. Her full recovery largely depends upon you, you know. You must know, no one blames you. I’m sure she doesn’t. She adores you too much to fault you in anything.”
The man was well meaning, but Kensei couldn’t help bristling at his words, feeling the guilt even heavier upon his head than before. At first he thought the best thing would be for them to get away and start over together, but then upon hearing her fight him in her sleep, he thought it better to …well, he was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do anymore. Should he stay or go? As ever, he wanted to keep her best interest at heart, but therein lay the problem. He didn’t know what would be best for her, and he couldn’t count on anyone to tell him, least of all her.
After partaking of the rice and tea Hachigen offered and taking a long, hot bath, he went to his room and stood squarely in the middle, surveying the few, meaningless things in sight. Nothing worth having, nothing worth taking. Bundling together some clothing and putting it in a bag with the few coins he still had – maybe he’d stop by the old man’s house again, just down the road, to see if he needed more firewood cut – he took up that book, the one Mashiro loved so much, and went to her room. Laying it on her pillow, he turned to leave, but before he could make it to the stairs, he went back. He took the time to leave a note, sticking out of the pages: “Someday. I promise.”
As he entered the downstairs common room again, Hachigen looked up from the book he was reading. They exchanged looks for a long, silent moment. “Going to visit Mashiro again?” Kensei nodded, and Hachigen could sense the apprehension and sorrow but no resolve. “You’re not coming back, are you?” It was more of a statement, an observation.
“No,” he responded quietly, his voice straining. “Will you…will you look after her for me? Explain to her; she won’t understand.” He cast his gaze to the floor, glanced at his free hand. He may have washed the blood from his body, but it would forever stain his hands.
“Of course,” Hachigen offered empathetically. “Listen, Muguruma-san, I don’t know where you’ll go or what you’ll do, but please do contact her, at least occasionally. And if…if you find you can’t,” he swallowed hard, “then at least let me hear word of you. So that I can reassure her.”
Kensei nodded, agreeing to the terms. He was no good with goodbyes. “So, I’ll see ya around,” he said as plainly as if he were just going out for the day. That was as good as he could offer. Leaving through the kitchen, he took a moment to remember those late nights drinking tea, her washing the laundry and smiling up at him as she worked, that passionate moment against the bathhouse wall. They couldn’t have those moments again. His heart ached.
One last goodbye, and he could let her move on.

Popping his head through the cracked door, Kensei peered into the room where Mashiro and Tessai were alone. After glancing around briefly, he regarded Tessai. “Is she asleep?” he said softly and the man nodded once. Coming fully into the room, he knelt beside Mashiro’s unconscious form. She seemed to be sleeping more peacefully than she had this morning. “Can I have a moment?” he asked, eyes never leaving her face, but somehow he knew. He knew Tessai knew, and that worried him. Everyone would think him an unmitigated bastard for leaving her like this, and would they try to stop him? But he had to. Wordlessly, Tessai left the room and closed the door quietly.
Sitting beside her, he tried to find the fortitude to do what he needed to do. Her expression was soft and didn’t hint at a single ounce of pain, and for that brief moment, he could pretend nothing had happened. He wanted to remember her this way, peaceful and beautiful. Taking her hand in his, he laid a kiss to the back of it and held it to his chest. With the other, he brushed the hair from her forehead.
“I promise you, I’ll come back. I’ll come back for you, but not until…” He sighed, hanging his head. “Not until I’m good enough. Strong enough.”
Deafening silence answered him.
“You’ll eventually forget…but don’t forget about me.” Leaning in, he kissed her forehead lightly and eased her hand down to her side. He rose to his feet and glanced over his shoulder once as he walked to the door. “Goodbye, Mashiro.”

Warm. Like a familiar pair of arms embracing her. Warm. She tried to turn into the comforting warmth but found she couldn’t move. Eyes opening slowly, she blinked at the blinding sunlight filtering into the room through the small window. A rude awakening from a sweet dream, perhaps, but at least she’d had the dream. Her Kensei held her close and whispered to her all the lovely things she wanted to hear, but it ended all too soon. Glancing around as she blinked away the sleep, she observed Tessai and Hachigen sitting on either side of her, working their magic silently. She could feel the healing kidou enveloping her, but she couldn’t hide the disappointment written on her face. Kensei wasn’t there.
“Oh, good morning, Kuna-chan!” Hachigen said when first he noticed Mashiro’s eyes were open. “How are you feeling?”
Mashiro considered the question for a moment and found it to be loaded. Her body was sore and stiff – she wanted nothing more than to get up and sprint around the neighborhood a time or two to work out the kinks in her aching muscles and joints. But more than that, she wanted to see her Kensei again. She barely recalled the short conversation they’d had who-only-knew however long ago, and he seemed so…upset. She needed to know he was okay now. That she didn’t have that answer was killing her. Choosing her words carefully, she finally responded. “I’m…can I sit up, Hachi? Just a little?”
Easing her up carefully with a supporting hand on her back, Hachigen waited patiently as Tessai added a pillow, even as Mashiro hummed and whined in pain. Once she adjusted, she thanked them earnestly and sighed with relief. She held out a small hope that Kensei was actually in the room, just outside her line of vision, and that she couldn’t sense him because of the other men’s kidou, but glancing around again, those hopes were dashed. After more silent moments passed, she finally asked her burning question: “Where’s Kensei?”
Only silence answered her. She looked to each of them to see if she could discern any answer from them. Tessai’s eyes were closed and his mouth drawn into a long, straight line; Hachigen’s eyes were soft and sad, even as he dared not make eye contact. “Hachi, where is he?” She couldn’t stop the panic lacing her voice. Something wasn’t right, and she knew it.
Tessai called off a Bakudou name – sixty-three, though she didn’t rightly recall the particulars of it – and she found herself immobilized. Panicking more, finding she couldn’t even struggle against the kidou, she looked to Hachigen again as tears welled up in her eyes. “Where is he, Hachi? Where is he!” She couldn’t help screaming, even as she tried to maintain her composure.
“He’s…he had to leave, Kuna-chan, to keep you safe.” He stroked her hair as she wailed, unable to believe the words spoken to her. Why? Why would her Kensei leave her? He promised her, he said he’d never abandon her, that she’d never be alone again. He said it, that day in Rukongai when he picked her up off the street, driving away the older boys who were beating her mercilessly. Kensei always stayed by her side to keep her safe, so why did he have to leave now to do the same? Hachigen could do nothing to console her as she sobbed endlessly for the better part of an hour.
When at long last Mashiro could talk again, she hoarsely requested Lisa. Oh my, but he didn’t see this one coming. Her wailing and gnashing of teeth began anew when he had to tell her that Lisa, too, was gone, and Rose and Love as well. This was too much for Mashiro to take in, and since the news had finally been broken to her, Tessai thought it in her best interest to put her out again. She would have plenty of time later to process all of her thoughts and emotions, and it would be better if she could do that when she didn’t have to be bound by kidou just to keep her from causing herself further injury.
As Mashiro dreamed, she dreamed of happier days, days under the cherry blossom trees in the warm sunshine. And that oh-so-familiar face almost smiling at her.

“…knows…”
“Did you…about his…”
“No…probably shouldn’t…”
She could hear the voices beating at the edges of her mind; slowly consciousness crept in. As Mashiro opened her eyes, she saw Hachigen sitting on one side and Shinji and Hiyori on the other. They carried on a hushed conversation but she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. For some reason, it all sounded like gibberish. Clearing her throat, she pushed against the futon in an effort to sit up a little. This captured Hachigen’s attention, and he offered his assistance, helping her to ease up higher on her pillows. She was relieved to find the pain greatly diminished, hoping that meant she could get up and move around soon.
After a period of awkward silence elapsed, Shinji reached behind him and produced a book, which she recognized instantly. “This…this is for you,” he said quietly, and Mashiro couldn’t shake the odd feeling that struck her. Shinji didn’t seem like himself at all. She noticed the piece of paper sticking out of the book and opened it to that page. Hesitantly, she took the scrap and unfolded it. The boxy, hasty handwriting brought tears to her eyes.
Someday. I promise.
Sobbing, she closed the book. “Stupid Kensei! You better mean it! How could you leave me alone?” She cried without shame, uninhibited, until she could cry no more; all the while her audience stayed in a respectful, if awkward, silence. But once she was done, Hachigen smiled and took her tiny, free hand in his much larger one.
“You’re not alone, Kuna-chan.”
Hiyori added, “That’s right; ya got us.”
Shinji smiled. “So don’t cry anymore. We’ll take care of ya ‘til ‘someday’ comes.”
Someday. Someday he’d come back for her, and someday she’d be happy again. Someday, she’d see him almost smile at her, and she’d give him her most brilliant smile. They could pick up where they left off, build a new life together, do all the things she always dreamed she could do with him. Her body would heal in time, but her heart…someday, he’d bring her heart back and let it heal too.
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