Characters: Unohana, Nemu
Summary: Her face has grown to be an all too familiar one.
Pairings: None
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers
Timeline: No timeline needed
Author's Note: All I have to say is that Nemu had to go to someone sometimes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
The door to Unohana's office has been left slightly ajar again, and she nearly sighs, knowing all too well who she will find sitting in the chair by the window inside.
She can almost pick up the smell of blood before she pushes the door open all of the way.
Nemu, as usual, sits in the chair by the window and watches the sun set with the single-minded absorption she always pours into her work. The sky is daffodil-yellow and the light pours across her skin making it look bruised, and Unohana's sure it is, but those bruises are hidden carefully by the draw of the girl's hakama and the careful layers of foundation across her cheeks.
Of course, Unohana would do more if she could. It is very well nigh impossible for anyone—excepting Mayuri—to ever be angry with Nemu; she has, for all of her disturbed tendencies and twisted knowledge, a strange innocence that always shines through. She's endearing to anyone who doesn't find her uncanny.
Unohana would do more than just heal the injuries that haven't already been taken care of, if she could. Nemu's closed mouth prevents her. It is all too obvious who has left these great welts and lacerations on the girl's tender flesh, but she says nothing, green eyes blank and even and numbly fascinated as Unohana does her work, perhaps wishing she could learn healing kido herself.
To put it plainly, Unohana's hands are tied, and Nemu won't move to help her undo the knots.
Despite all the screams that must course through her body, Nemu sits perfectly upright in the chair, shoulders straight and set, knees locked together, head facing towards the window and away from the door; a perfect little doll, falling apart at the seams and can't muster up the emotion to be upset about it.
She doesn't even notice when Unohana comes in, and the captain remembers vividly the first time Nemu made a silent, unannounced visit to her office. The acrid smell of blood filled the air and Nemu was just as calm and strangely indifferent to the sorry state of her body as she is now.
But she can't be entirely indifferent, if she comes to her.
Unohana sweeps across the room, steps fluid and swift, and gently taps Nemu's shoulder to get her attention.
If this action causes pain, Nemu is very good at hiding it.
"Good afternoon, Kurotsuchi-san." There is a gentle, serene smile on Unohana's face, utterly devoid of the menace that occupies it when dealing with Nemu's father and the Eleventh division. "I take it you are here for the same reason as last time?"
With huge, solemn green eyes, Nemu nods silently. Still unconcerned, still detached. She barely seems to care about her body, except that she cares enough to seek healing at the more desperate of times.
In the areas where there is no makeup, Unohana thinks she can see a yellow cast to Nemu's skin, that has nothing to do with the lighting.