Delicate fingers ghosted gracefully over ivory and black keys. Music, soft and wistful, floated in the air, whispering dreams into the ears of those who would listen. It wove tapestries of them, their colors more brilliant and beautiful than which mere mortal eyes could see, each thread a shining wish.
A single beam of light illuminated the weaver, alone with her sweetly sad song.
Raven hair, severely pinned back ordinarily, fell delicately over pale shoulders bared by a sweeping sheath of white silk. Violet eyes, habitually focused and stern, were half-lidded and dreamy. Even she was not immune to her own siren's song.
As the last, lingering notes faded into the stillness, she grew aware of the gaze resting on her. When he'd appeared, she did not know, but his intrusion on her private concert did not bother her. Rather, his presence inspired her. Her fingers stroked the keys lovingly, wistfully, eager to drift off into dreams of her own making once more.
"Play it again, Nanao." Her muse's voice, warm and smoky, enveloped her. She could not have refused him if she tried, for she would do anything he asked of her.
And so she played.
She saw him now, his form perched languidly atop the instrument that held them both spellbound. His chin was cupped in a beautifully strong, long-fingered hand as he gazed at her, his expression rapt.
Her hands never faltered as his other hand came beneath her chin, making her look deep into his eyes. What she saw there took her breath away, but still she played, even as his fingers traced the lines of her face lovingly.
It was only natural, she thought, for them to move closer and closer, until his breath mingled with hers, until she was sure that their hearts were beating to the same glorious rhythm. Music twined about them, binding them so closely that it could not be seen where one stopped and the other began.
Crash.
Ise Nanao sprang awake, her mind dancing with images of her muse falling off the piano and into her lap.
"Yachiru!" A harried, beautiful, and absolutely busty blonde was pulling a squealing pink-haired child off of the piano. "Nanao is sleeping!"
"Not anymore," she grumbled, sitting up from her place in the window seat.
"Nanao-chan!" She suddenly found her arms full of an enthusiastic six-year-old. "Nanao-chan, Ken-chan said I can learn to dance!"
"That's wonderful, Yachiru," she said warmly. "You already know more than some of the people here. Now go and find Nemu, so that she can put you in her class."
With a squeal, the little girl tore out of the room.
"Rough rehearsal?" Matsumoto Rangiku looked at her best friend sympathetically.
"Why on earth would you think that?" Nanao said sourly, both irritated and relieved that she'd been woken up.
"Let's see…it's already mid-afternoon and you're sleeping. Was it a nice dream?" She smiled as her best friend muttered under her breath. "Well, I'm off. I'm going to go home and shower before I have to come back and rehearse. Nice blanket, by the way" she added as she sailed out of the room.
Nanao looked down and cursed, whipping off the gaudy pink-flowered mantle that belonged to the one and only Kyouraku Shunsui, co-owner of the 8/13 Dance Studio, as well as her dance teacher.
Not to mention the man she'd been dreaming about.
She refused to contemplate the implications. Kyouraku Shunsui was the farthest thing from her ideal man that she could possibly imagine. The man drank like a fish, often beginning to drink by noon and continuing throughout the day – with almost no side effects whatsoever. She wouldn't have been surprised to learn that all of the water in his body had been replaced by sake. He was a lothario of the worst sort, the ballroom dancing world's own Don Juan DeMarco, a man who believed that he was the legendary lover, Don Juan. He was the laziest and most unmotivated man she'd ever met.
That was why it amazed her that a man such as that was a legend in the world of competitive ballroom dancing. The numerous championships and awards he had won were overwhelming – and not the least among them were the not one, not two, but three first place wins in the Professional Latin Rounds of the Blackpool Dance Festival. It was an achievement unheard of and still unmatched.
It was no wonder then, that he retired in triumph, saying farewell to his dance partner of many years, Shihoun Yoruichi, and hello to his best and oldest friend, Ukitake Jyuushiro, himself a championship ballroom dancer. They proceeded to open what was now the most prestigious ballroom dance studio in Japan, nurturing the talents and careers of their pupils and teaching new generations the sport of competitive ballroom dancing.
The two men were already reaping the benefits. Many of the young dancers who idolized them had come to the studio to learn from the masters themselves, and were rapidly becoming masters in their own right. That was why Nanao had come to 8/13, to learn from the best and be the best.
Yes, she wanted to be the best, but why, out of all of the people, had she attracted the attention of the most infuriating man on the planet?
"Nanao-chan! My lovely Nanao-chan has woken from her beauty sleep?" a voice crooned in her ear. It was only the discipline of many years of ballet and ballroom, as well as her own iron will that kept Nanao from shivering slightly.
Turning around, she raised an eyebrow deliberately. "You shouldn't have let me sleep, Kyouraku-san," she said coldly. "We have much to do."
"Ah, but how could I wake you when you looked so peaceful? Then I realized how my Nanao-chan had not eaten since breakfast and what a tragedy it would be to let you starve." He dangled a bag of take-out in front of her, his liquid chocolate eyes pleading in his puppy-dog manner. "Please?"
Nanao sighed. "Fine." Taking the bag from him, she took the packages of food out, arranging them on the window seat methodically. With a happy hum, the big man settled opposite her, eagerly anticipating sharing the meal with her.
As he ate, Kyouraku Shunsui pondered the woman in front of him. She was a mystery, his Nanao-chan. If there was anything he couldn't resist, it was a mystery. Or sake. Or women. Or…the list would go on.
In any case, the precision and coolness of the woman in front of him drew him like nothing he had ever imagined. Shunsui was a man of passion, and did not hesitate to let it be known to the entire world. He poured it into everything he did, for life was nothing if it was not lived to the fullest. With every move he made, he put every fiber of his being into it.
But Ise Nanao…that was another story. Never before had he met someone who kept such a rein on their emotions. Every move she made was exquisitely controlled. Not a bit of energy was ever wasted with her. It was so far from everything he had ever known that he could not resist.
He could not resist her. Not from the moment that he'd known that below that touch-me-not exterior lay a heart of passion to match his own.
Six months earlier
"How have your dancers been faring, Shiro? Are they prepared for Blackpool?" Shunsui asked his best friend, Ukitake Jyuushiro.
The elegant white-haired man shrugged. "As well as can be expected. We have some very promising ones. Hitsugaya-kun is still without a partner, sadly. I'm afraid he's still brooding over Hinamori-chan's change of heart."
"Hmmm, yes, I can imagine so. Still, I applaud Aizen's decision to start a studio of his own. His style was always different from ours." Shunsui's voice took on a cold, detached tone. "'Begging your pardon, Shunsui-senpai, but that's not strictly ballroom.'" His eyes brightened. "Speaking of Aizen, my own dear Rangiku has been partner-less, since Gin decided to join his studio as well."
Ukitake looked at him warily. "What are you suggesting?"
"Let Hitsugaya-kun and Rangiku partner one another! It's genius!"
"May I remind you that Rangiku-chan, as one of your students, is proficient in Latin. Hitsugaya-kun, as one of my students, is trained in Standard." He rubbed his forehead. "I don't believe that I have to mention the utter difference in their personalities too, do I?"
The flamboyant dark-haired man flapped a hand. "Trifles, I'm sure. It cannot hurt to try, and it would be such a waste of talent on both of their parts."
Ukitake rolled his eyes. "Fine. We shall see, shall we?"
"I'm so happy you see things my way, Shiro!" Shunsui chirped happily. The two men entered one of the large, airy studios, where a couple was dancing the quickstep. Off to the side, calling out suggestions here and there, was a tall, statuesque woman wearing leggings, leg warmers, and a cut-up sweatshirt, her long black hair hanging down her back in a braid.
"And how are they doing, Retsu?" Ukitake said warmly, coming to stand next to his partner on and off the dance floor, Unohana Retsu.
The quietly beautiful woman smiled. "Wonderfully. I have high hopes." She smiled at Shunsui, who beamed back at her. "Nemu-chan and Yumichika-kun make a striking pair. Finish the line, Yumichika-kun!" she called, as the two dancers came up from their final pose.
"We leave them to your capable hands, dearest," Ukitake informed his partner, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Shunsui and I shall have a look at Kuchiki-san. Is he in the next room?"
She nodded. "I believe he has found a suitable partner, though she does not hold up to Hisana in his regard."
"No one can stand up to Hisana," Shunsui said wisely. "Not to Byakuya." Kuchiki Byakuya and his wife, Hisana, had been Ukitake's most celebrated students. Unfortunately, Hisana had succumbed to ovarian cancer just two years before. Prostrate with grief, Byakuya had retired from competitive ballroom dancing for a year. "I am interested to see if he's lost any of his ability," he commented as he and Ukitake entered another studio through the adjoining door.
There, a white-haired young man was watching a black-haired couple twirled about the floor in a beautiful and fluid Viennese waltz.
"How does it look, Hitsugaya-kun?" Ukitake asked the observer.
"I cannot fault anything," the younger man said. Hitsugaya Toushiro was truly a rising star in the world of ballroom, having won the Amateur Rising Star Ballroom Round at Blackpool with his old partner, Hinamori Momo. "I do believe that Kuchiki-san is ready."
"Indeed." Ukitake looked at his pupil. "I have a proposition for you, Hitsugaya-kun…"
Meanwhile, Shunsui was watching the Viennese waltz, transfixed. The woman dancing with Kuchiki Byakuya was exquisite. There was poetry there, he thought dreamily, in the graceful line of her arms, in her profile. Black hair was arranged into a tight bun, eyes hidden behind flashing glasses. That would not do, he thought. On the dance floor, it was imperative that every emotion be expressed. The glasses would only hinder her performance.
"Hitsugaya-kun has agreed, albeit reluctantly," Ukitake said, coming up behind him. "He has gone off to tell Matsumoto himself. Ah, wonderful. As expected, they look quite nice together."
"Shiro, who is that woman?"
"Her? That is Ise Nanao. She's joined us only recently. I thought she and Kuchiki-san would suit each other very well."
The brown-haired man shook his head. "She is all wrong for Standard."
His friend looked at him as though he had sprouted horns. "Shunsui, have you been dipping into your sake stash already? Nanao-san is the epitome of Standard. You need only look. Her technique is perfect."
"For Latin," he insisted.
"Ukitake-san, Kyouraku-san. To what do I owe this pleasure?" The two owners turned to see Kuchiki Byakuya standing before them, his pleasing face schooled into its usual impassive mask. His partner stood quietly at his side.
Nanao had only seen the two legendary owners of the 8/13 Studio a few times, and that was at a distance. It was crazy enough being asked to be Kuchiki Byakuya's partner, but now that she was confronted by the two, she was afraid she would choke on her own awe.
It didn't help that Kyouraku Shunsui was positively staring at her. Nanao knew, of course, about Shunsui's reputation, and that was more than enough to keep her thoughts in line. The man was beautiful, to be sure, standing a full head taller than her. Though he was retired, he was still in perfect shape. A black Oxford shirt, opened halfway down his chest, revealed the physique of one twenty years his junior. His luxurious brown hair, worn long, was tied into a ponytail that flowed down his back.
"Wonderful waltz, Byakuya!" Shunsui boomed, his eyes never leaving Nanao's face. She merely stared back steadily.
Kuchiki Byakuya didn't even blink at the familiar way in which Shunsui had greeted him. He was long used to the older man's antics by now, and knew that he would never change them. It never did any good to protest. "Thank you very much, Kyouraku-san. Your opinion means very much to us."
"Ne, Byakuya, do you mind if I cut in and steal your beautiful partner for a moment?" Shunsui asked cheekily. Before Byakuya could respond, the two were out in the middle of the studio. "Tango, my lovely Nanao-chan!" he commanded.
Nanao couldn't even think. His hands held her firmly, and before her brain could even try to protest, her body was moving with his. Slow, slow, quick-quick slow.
Meanwhile, off to the side, Ukitake was hastily apologizing. "Kuchiki-san, do not mind Shunsui. I have no idea what he's up to-"
"You know very well what he's up to, Ukitake-san." Byakuya's voice was coolly neutral. "It is in his nature. Let us just hope that he does not break her heart. I do not wish to have a broken partner when it comes time to go to Blackpool." Then he turned to leave the room, but not before the white-haired man caught a fleeting glimpse of a smile on his face.
Yes, he knew the talent was there. Shunsui could see it and feel it in every step she made. She responded to the slightest pressure of his fingers, turning when he asked her to, following his lead. Every step was flawless. But where was the passion and the emotion? She was dancing with her body and not her heart – and that was the most serious flaw, in Shunsui's mind.
So he changed his frame and his steps, wanting to see what she would do.
Nanao's eyes widened. He was no longer following the Standard tango, and had switched to the Argentine style of the dance. She had learned some of it, of course, but this type of dancing was surreal to her. Gone was the rigid frame of Standard, to the flexibility of different types of frames for Argentine. Gone were the specific placements of the feet, and she simply had to react whenever he moved into her space.
But most of all, gone was the meticulously controlled cat-and-mouse game of the Standard tango, replaced with the slow, hot burn that characterized the Argentine tango.
She couldn't quite react. She almost couldn't breathe, in fact. This was nothing like dancing with Kuchiki-san. There was a tingling awareness where there was none before. She could feel every bit of her partner, could feel his warm strength surrounding her. His breath was hot on her face, his hand burning on her shoulder. She couldn't protest when he dipped her, a hand trailing down her torso, fire following it. Then she was swept back into his arms.
It was overwhelming.
It ended in a deep lunge, with Nanao looking up into his face, their lips mere inches apart.
"Beautiful, Nanao." His voice, deep and gravelly, sent frissons of some unknown emotion dancing up her spine.
So Nanao did the only thing she could think of.
Slap.
The sound reverberated around the room. She pulled from his embrace, shaking with something like anger, something like desire, before storming out of the room.
"I trust you're happy?" Ukitake observed dryly.
"Oh yes." Shunsui straightened, rubbing his cheek ruefully. His eyes darkened, remembering the pliancy of her body against his, and the look in her violet eyes, the stunned awakening of emotion. "That woman has love, Shiro. She's wasted in Standard."
"May I remind you that she is Kuchiki-san's partner-"
"Yare, yare." Shunsui waved a hand. "That is irrelevant. He may have her for Blackpool. But for everything else…she's mine."
"Isn't that a little possessive for one of your chases? What do you aim to get from this?"
"'Every true lover knows that the moment of greatest satisfaction comes when ecstasy is long over and he beholds before him the flower that has blossomed beneath his touch,'" he quoted. "Lovely Nanao-chan," he sighed. "I have plans for you."
Present
And so the chase commenced. It had taken Shunsui a good two weeks and a great deal of begging to have Ise Nanao consent to learn Latin from him. He had taken it slow, starting her off with jive, cha-cha, and samba. Those had been easy enough for her, and Shunsui enjoyed the way the energetic dances livened her up, bringing a flush to her cheeks as they twirled about the studio. She had mastered those three dances in the first four months.
The paso doble had been much more of a challenge. Here was where Nanao would have to portray more than sheer enjoyment. The paso doble was one of the most emotionally-charged dances in the entire sport. He was the matador, and she the bull. It was his job to tame and subdue her, and hers to take him down. It was a battle of dominance.
"Nanao-chan, are you scared?"
Her head snapped up and she glared at him. How dare he suggest that? And how dare he keep addressing her so familiarly? Incensed, she opened her mouth-
"Good." He smiled at her. "Use that anger. Now…" he took her hand in his. "Feel the rhythm." He placed her hand over his heart, ignoring the slight twitch in her fingers. "Remember, Nanao-chan. Feel it." And he began to move. One. Two. One-two-three-four. Over and over it repeated.
"Nanao-chan," he chided, as soon as he felt her slip and become complacent. "I told you not to be scared."
"I'm not scared," she snarled.
"There," he laughed, as she forced him back a step. "Push me, Nanao. Ready, and now we'll go into the flamenco steps." He spun her away from him. "Circle. The rhythm Nanao, the rhythm! One. Two. One-two-three-four. Faster!"
"I'll show you rhythm," Nanao muttered under her breath as she reversed direction, eyes narrowed on him the entire time. "Then I'll shove it up your ass."
The twinkling in his eye showed that he'd read the intention in hers very well. Mission accomplished.
But the paso doble paled in comparison to what they faced now.
The rumba.
"Why are you staring at me?" Nanao snapped, uncomfortable with the way he had been looking at her the past few minutes.
Shunsui recovered quickly. "Because you're so cute, Nanao-chan!" he crooned, leaning forward, his lips pursed. As usual, his effort was thwarted with a well-placed snap of a fan. Where it came from, he never knew, but it was always effective. He settled back, his lips forming a moue of disappointment. "So cold, Nanao-chan."
"Stop calling me Nanao-chan." It was an exercise in futility, Nanao knew. Kuchiki-san had told her as much. No matter what she did, he insisted on calling her Nanao-chan, and that was all he called her. She had been fine (all right, not fine, but she was stiffly tolerant) with it when they were alone. But when he had first called her so in public (in front of all of the first year students, for crying out loud!), she had prayed for the floor to open up beneath her.
Or for a large sword to lop his head off. And that was her being charitable.
It didn't help that Rangiku thought that his attentions to her were adorable. The woman worshiped the ground he walked on (or was it his ability to hold his sake?). But then, the busty blonde thought everything was adorable. Her current obsession was her new partner, much to his chagrin. Nanao could only wonder how their rehearsals were going.
Despite all this, Nanao found that Kyouraku Shunsui was a good person. She wasn't quite sure if she would call him a friend, but their relationship was a companionable one. They could converse quite easily, as long as she didn't pay too much attention to his flowery compliments and veiled innuendos.
"Nanao-chan." She looked up to find Shunsui standing, a hand extended. "Shall we dance?"
A hand reached up to adjust her glasses, but a big brown hand got there first. "What - Kyouraku-san!" Nanao exclaimed, trying to get them back, but all she could see was a big black blur in front of her.
"Can you dance without these, Nanao?" Shunsui inquired.
"I'd prefer to dance with them," she said, still blindly groping forward.
"Let's try without them, ne?" He continued as if she had never spoken. "Nanao-chan, such things are a shield. You do not need them when you dance. Your emotions must flow freely." Setting the wire-framed glasses aside, he then took her hand and guided her to the center of the room.
"Let's go over the basics, shall we, Nanao-chan?"
Nanao did not like this, not one bit. She felt entirely too vulnerable without her glasses. She couldn't see, and thus was relying on the big man who held her to keep her from smashing into a wall or something. She didn't like relying on anyone, and the knowledge made her stiff.
"Loosen up, Nanao-chan," his voice whispered in her ear. "Remember, this is the rumba."
She knew very well it was the rumba, and considering her current state of mind, it was the last dance she wished to be performing. Not after that absolutely insane dream. Really, what right did she have to dream about him in such a way? To dream was to hope, and there was no hope that a man like him would look twice at a woman like her…
Nanao was furious at herself. How could she even think that way? It's not like she wanted him to look at her twice! In fact, she would have been happy if he stopped looking at her at all! His list of flaws was long…
Ah, but his virtues far outweigh his vices, a voice whispered in her ear. It sounded, annoyingly enough, like Rangiku. He was by far the kindest man she had ever met. He treated everyone as though they were equal. His loyalty to his friends and co-workers was beyond compare. He had a gift of patience like no one she'd ever met.
Most of all, he genuinely loved. Nanao had not thought it was possible to have a heart as pure as that, which was why, though she could scorn his promiscuity, she could not deny his love. He loved each woman who passed through his life, and gave his heart willingly and without condition.
It took remarkable strength to be so giving.
"Nanao-chan, do you love me?"
She felt her own heart drop somewhere to the floor in terror. "Of course not!" she squawked. She certainly did not love him, just because of one ridiculous dream! Had he really been able to read her so quickly?
Her blurred vision kept her from seeing the way his face fell at the vehemence of her reply. But he recovered quickly. "Ah, that's too bad. But Nanao-chan, the rumba is the dance of love. When we dance…" he drew her closer. "That's what you must feel, or it cannot be danced properly. How can you entrust your body to me when there is no love?" He spun her gently. "You dance so beautifully, but with no emotion. Dance is its embodiment, Nanao-chan. They must come together, for they are incomplete without the other."
"I…I don't…" she stammered.
"Nanao-chan." Shunsui's voice was infinitely patient as he pulled her into a slow turn. "Nanao-chan, look at me." He stroked a hand across her cheek. "Even if it's just for five minutes, love me. Pretend that all you see in the world is me. Pretend that there is nowhere you'd rather be than in my arms."
"Kyouraku-san, I-" she tried to look away, but warm fingers slid below her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
"Do not look away, Nanao-chan. Don't ever look away." He spun her away into a lunge. "If I let you go, you must yearn to come back." With a tug, she was back in his arms, one large hand cupping the back of her head.
She couldn't breathe. The feelings surging through her were too big, too important for mere things like breathing. She fought fiercely. She would not give in to them, would not allow herself to feel such things.
Finally, Nanao drew breath, and with it, clarity. She yanked herself out of his arms. "I wish you would stop saying things like that, Kyouraku-san," she said steadily. ""It's quite ridiculous. Yes, I agree that the rumba is the dance of love. But it's all pretend. It's not real." She extended a hand. "May I have my glasses? I'm tired and wish to go home."
Looking into her slightly unfocused violet eyes and the unwavering hand in front of him, Shunsui knew there would be no more dancing today. Wordlessly, he returned her glasses to her and watched her sweep out of the studio. Oddly enough, his heart felt like it had left the room with her.
Hours melted into days, and then into weeks. Still they danced the rumba, for Nanao refused to see what was growing right in front of her. She would not give her heart, so the dance remained incomplete. She would not give the love he demanded of her. Every night, she dreamed of the piano and of the lilting, heartbreaking song. Only in her dreams did she do what he asked of her, to play the haunting melody over and over again.
If Nanao was in denial, Shunsui was in love…or at the very least, lust. There was simply something about the woman that drew him to her. She reminded him of a flower just about to bud. All her layers simply needed to be opened and peeled away. He might not have known that it was love that prompted him to seek these things, but all he knew was that it was what his heart demanded.
And Kyouraku Shunsui was not a man to ignore what his heart told him to do.
Both were blissfully unaware of the fact that everyone in the studio knew what was going on and how both felt, long before Nanao could even begin to admit to herself how she felt. Madarame Ikkaku had started a bet with Ayasegawa Yumichika, and soon almost everyone had placed a bet of their own. Even little Yachiru had chucked her lunch money into the betting pool, not really knowing what it was for. Ukitake watched with amused eyes as his best friend since high school fell absolutely head-over-heels for the only woman in all of Japan who could resist him. It was a futile resistance, but it was one nonetheless.
Another three months came and went, and the company of the 8/13 dance studio found themselves at Blackpool for the annual Dance Festival. There, their abilities as competitive ballroom dancers would be put to the test.
Nanao was out of her mind with worry. This was her first time at Blackpool. Since she'd become Kuchiki-san's partner, she'd attended several major competitions. Thanks to Kuchiki-san (she didn't give herself enough credit), they'd medaled in all of them. This was the final test. They were aiming for the championship.
She watched the other couples as they left the green room and went onto the dance floor. The women were so beautiful, shimmering like birds of paradise with their jewel-colored costumes. She rather felt like a caterpillar in a room of butterflies. Her heart beat so loud it threatened to jump out of her chest.
"Come on, Matsumoto," Hitsugaya growled, his arms crossed. He looked dignified in black pants, a black vest, and a white collared shirt open to mid-chest. "They called our names already."
"Wait a minute, O-chibi," she said distractedly, pursing her lips in the mirror. "I still think my skirt's too long." She adjusted the peach ballgown studded with rhinestones. Chiffon scarves trailed from glittering cuffs on her arms. The entire look lent her a classic beauty she often masked while she flaunted her assets in the revealing Latin costumes she was so used to.
A vein throbbed in the white-haired man's forehead. "It's Hitsugaya, damn it. And you're not dancing Latin anymore, so of course it's a decent length!"
"Aw, O-chibi-chan is so cute when he's angry!" Rangiku glanced at Nanao and winked. She adored riling up her partner.
"M-M-MATSUMOTO!" With a surprising burst of strength, he pulled her out of the room.
"Wish me luck, Nanao!"
Smiling softly, Nanao waved at her best friend. "Gambatte, ne."
A sudden commotion at the door had her looking up.
"Kyouraku-san, Kyouraku-san, you're not allowed in there!" the timid doorkeeper was begging.
"Yare, yare, it's all right, Hanatarou!" the big man said genially, nudging him out of the way. "I just want to say good luck to everyone!"
Whispers raced around the room at the speed of light.
"No way-"
"-three wins here-"
"Shihoun Yoruichi-"
"-gorgeous!"
Nanao gritted her teeth at that one, and she didn't want to admit to herself why. Of course, she conceded, he did look quite wonderful, wearing his usual all-black ensemble, but foregoing the gaudy pink mantle for a more sophisticated white one. She had no idea how he still managed to look masculine wearing such clothing.
"Ah, Nanao-chan!"
She found herself dragged up onto her feet. Taking her hand, Shunsui turned her gently, watching the way her white satin ballgown flowed around her. His eyes warmed. "You look beautiful, Nanao." She barely had time to shiver at the way his voice dropped and his tone of absolute sincerity. Then he winked, the moment gone. "You should wear red lipstick more often, Nanao-chan. It suits you."
Self-consciously, her hand flew up to cover her mouth. It was the one concession she'd allowed Rangiku when the older woman had helped apply her makeup. "Red means courage, Nanao," the blonde had said in a moment of complete seriousness. "I think we all need a little bit, tonight."
"None of that, Nanao-chan." Smiling, he drew her hand away. "Good luck." He leaned closer and closer, and while her fingers searched for a fan that wasn't there, he kissed her on the cheek. Then, with a sweep of his white mantle, he was gone, leaving Nanao feeling helpless and floundering. She sat down smoothing her skirt, trying to calm hands that were trembling slightly. That light kiss had affected her more than she would admit.
A shadow fell over her as her partner settled next to her on the couch. Kuchiki Byakuya looked immaculate, as always, resplendent in a black tuxedo. White gloves completed the aristocratic air he carried around him like a cloak. For a while, they sat in companionable silence. The two had developed a healthy respect for one another in the past few months, and were even slightly fond of the other. Nanao knew that he would never ridicule her for her recent behavior. Indeed, he had never commented on her odd relationship with Kyouraku-san.
"Why do you dance, Ise-san?"
"W-what?"
Byakuya sighed patiently. "I'm asking you why you dance, Ise-san. It's a simple question."
Nanao opened her mouth to respond and promptly shut it. It wasn't because of the championship and the prestige. She could do without both, surprisingly. She also didn't do it for love of the sport. Having been forced in that direction as a young child, for longest time she danced because she had to. However, when she'd joined 8/13, she found a certain pleasure in dance that she'd never had before. It certainly wasn't for money – her family was well-off in their own right. It was a good question. Why did she dance?
"I-I-don't know. Why do you dance, Kuchiki-san?" As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she flushed and immediately wanted to pull them back. "Gomenasai, Kuchiki-san, that's a personal question-"
"Hisana."
She blinked. "A-ano?"
"Hisana," Byakuya repeated. "It has always been for Hisana." As Nanao stared at him, stunned at his personal confession, he continued. "I never liked dancing. My parents had me taught as a young child. But Hisana was so enchanted with it when I first taught her…I was happy when she was happy, so I danced with her. Even now…" his voice trailed off. "I came back because it reminds me of her. It is a part of her I can keep."
Ise Nanao was not the sentimental type. It was always Rangiku who burst into tears whenever they went to see a particularly sappy movie, and it was always Nanao who provided her with the handkerchief. But the simple statement from the stoic man next to her nearly undid her. That he would confide in her so…why?
She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until he answered her question. "I suppose it's not a question of why you dance, Ise-san, but for whom do you dance?" He looked at her, gray eyes cool and assessing.
"Who-?"
"Kuchiki Byakuya-san and Ise Nanao-san, you're next!" the doorkeeper said. The Kuchiki nobleman rose fluidly to his feet and extended a hand to his horribly confused partner.
"Shall we?"
"Hai," she managed. It was all a blur, walking from the green room and onto the dance floor. The sheer number of people there were overwhelming. She barely even noticed the other couples on the dance floor. It felt like a dream as Kuchiki-san pulled her into the first position. When the music played, her body responded without a single command from her brain.
Her mind raced. What was he talking about, for whom did she dance? What did that mean? Nanao had danced for her parents when she was younger, but that was no longer the case. She did not dance for Kuchiki-san, although she considered him a friend now. Who else was there…Rangiku? No, as much as she loved her best friend, she did not dance for her, either.
"So that's Byakuya-bo's new partner," Shihoun Yoruichi said from her spot next to Shunsui. "She has talent, but there's something missing."
Shunsui squinted. Ah, there it was. There was a crease between her eyebrows, the one that said she was stewing over something. "Nanao-chan, now's not the time," he murmured. "Don't think, just dance."
It was ridiculous, Nanao concluded. Kuchiki-san was probably just philosophizing. Her reasons for dancing were purely-
Suddenly, as she turned her head sweeping into a spin, she caught sight of a white mantle. The lights were too bright to see anything else, but she could feel the sheer weight of his gaze on her, all the way from the audience. And everything else disappeared around her until there was nothing but him.
Pretend that all you see in the world is me.
Finally, after so many months of denial, Ise Nanao allowed herself to accept the truth: she had fallen for Kyouraku Shunsui. She had maintained that she was a logical person, and thus her brain had refused to accept the man that her heart had fallen for. Love, however, was not logical. It refused to be suppressed, and the sheer knowledge of it bubbled through her veins like the finest champagne. She knew she loved him, as clearly as she knew he loved her.
He made her feel beautiful, wanted, and cherished. She realized now, that when they danced, each movement was a declaration of love from him. Within the strong circle of his arms, he promised her strength. His hand on her shoulder, stroking along her torso, was his worship. His cheek against hers was his surrender. And poetry – there were volumes and volumes of it, all wrapped in the warmth of his eyes.
If Nanao could have spoken, she would have. She would have told Kuchiki-san exactly why she danced: for Shunsui. For the man who, for better and for worse, she had given her heart to. She danced for him and for him alone, for he was all she could see.
Byakuya felt the change in his partner as surely as though she'd screamed it aloud. He smiled inwardly. A love discovered, he thought, was the greatest gift one could receive in life. It transformed the woman in his arms, bringing a flush to her cheeks and a soft and dreamy look to her eyes. Her body became pliant, molding itself to his every whim, each line singing with emotion. Her steps had become smoother and less choppy.
"What just happened?" Yoruichi asked, bewildered. "Her movements have changed."
"Hmmm." He leaned forward, his chin cupped in his hand, his eyes never leaving her. "Wonderful, Nanao. Who taught you to love so? Is it Byakuya who inspires you?" The wistfulness in his voice betrayed him. His Nanao-chan had been colder than usual to him in the past three months. No matter how hard he tried, she had distanced herself further and further from him, straining the already tremulous truce between them.
Yoruichi shot him a surprised look. "Have you fallen in love again?" she said, a touch of exasperation in her voice. She loved him dearly, for he was one of her truest friends. But his penchant for falling in love with every woman to cross his path was a source of endless frustration for her, especially when they had been partners. She had witnessed almost as many affairs as Ukitake, and that was saying something. All she ever wanted for Shunsui was for him to find the one woman who could keep him happy for the rest of his life.
"I have been trying to teach her love, Yoruichi." His voice was low. "With her, I have reached for the music within her, to bring it out so that it overwhelms everything else. Look at her, and tell me that it hasn't happened, though I cannot say if any of it is my doing."
The purple-haired beauty stared at her friend good and hard. "Good lord," she said finally. "You truly love her."
"Nanao inspires it. She fills every sense, until I find I can go nowhere without feeling something of her. I see a future in her eyes, and know that everything in my life begins and ends with her."
The fact that his entire speech was said in absolute monotone convinced Yoruichi of his honesty. There were no explosions, no flowery proclamations, no fireworks and violins. Only the pure, unadulterated truth. "Oh, Shunsui." She took his hand in hers, her eyes filling with tears. "And have you told her this?"
"Every day." He watched as she curtsied gracefully, and exited on Byakuya's arm.
The 8/13 Dance Studio swept the boards at the Blackpool Dance Festival that year. They placed second in the Ballroom Formation and third in Exhibition. Kurotsuchi Nemu and Ayasegawa Yumichika had qualified for the Amateur Ballroom competition and proceeded to take the top spot. Matsumoto Rangiku and Hitsugaya Toushiro (who was competing for the first time as a professional) placed fourth in the Professional Ballroom Rounds.
As for Byakuya and Nanao, they took first place in the Professional Ballroom Rounds.
And so the 8/13 Dance Studio returned to Japan triumphantly from the Blackpool Dance Festival. The first order of business had been to throw an enormous celebratory party. Anyone who was anyone in ballroom dancing in Tokyo was there, filling up the ballroom that was on the first floor of the 8/13's building.
When the press of people and the strain of polite conversation became too much, Nanao fled to the second floor. She wanted to be alone and regain some sanity. Ever since she'd made her startling self-realization, she'd been surrounded by people, with no chance to simply sit and gather her thoughts. She wanted to figure out how she could tell Kyouraku-san exactly how she felt. She wanted to be brave and step into that relationship without caring how it would turn out. All she knew was that she wanted to be with him.
Stepping into the studio that was her sanctuary, she stopped. Perched on the window seat, staring wistfully out into the night, was Kyouraku Shunsui himself.
"Kyouraku-san, why are you here, and not down at the party?" she asked, stopping in the middle of the room.
Shunsui turned his head, admiring the way a single moonbeam fell on her. "I am simply enjoying the bliss that is solitude, lovely Nanao-chan. You should be celebrating."
"As should you," she countered. "I would think that this is a shared victory among the entire studio."
He smiled softly, a melancholy hint to his eyes. "You have a point, Nanao-chan." But he couldn't celebrate, not really. At the awards ceremony back in England, he had watched as Nanao accepted her medal and turned to Byakuya, mouthing "thank you" with a brilliant smile on her face. His heart had never felt quite so…broken. Perhaps it was Byakuya who inspired her so. It must have been the case, for Shunsui had never seen Nanao smile like that before – perhaps a brief twitch of the lips when he was at his most ridiculous, but never like that.
But he resolved to be content, eventually. She had bloomed exactly as he thought she would. He could not, and would not ask for more, especially if she was happy.
Nanao took a deep breath. She was wearing red lipstick again, for courage. "Kyouraku-san, will you dance with me?"
He blinked at her, shocked. "Now?"
"Yes, now." She took off her glasses and set them on the small table near the door. There would be no shields tonight. Then she returned to the center of the room and held out a hand, expectant.
Sighing, he unfolded his large body and crossed to her. "Anything my Nanao-chan asks of me, I will do." Taking her in his arms, he inquired, "What shall we dance, Nanao-chan? Waltz? Foxtrot?"
"Rumba."
Unbalanced for the second time, Shunsui could only nod. And so they danced.
Yes, Nanao had truly blossomed, he thought. Every feeling expressed itself in the way her body molded to his. She was following his every instruction from three months ago.
Look at me.
She did, her eyes never leaving his face.
Even if it's just for five minutes, love me.
She had love, just as he'd predicted. It flowed from her like music, twining around him.
Pretend that all you see in the world is me.
How could it hurt so much to see that she was finally doing what he had asked of her?
Pretend that there's nowhere you'd rather be than in my arms.
But what if she was thinking of Byakuya's arms, and not his? He wasn't sure if he could bear it. Why was she here? It was too much. He had to know.
"Do you love me, Nanao-chan?" His voice was hoarse.
They stopped in a lunge, her right leg wrapped around his left, their bodies pressed as closely together as they could be. Nanao turned her head, violet colliding with chocolate.
"Yes."
His eyes widened and she had a glimpse of the burning passion in them before his lips swiftly claimed hers. There was a brief, dizzying moment when he stood, disentangling their limbs, never breaking their connection. The kiss was slow and decadent as he tilted his head, changing the angle, taking it deeper. It was languorous and liquid, like moonbeams slipping over her skin. Nanao barely felt one arm wrap itself around her waist, pulling her flush to him, or how his other hand fisted in her hair to bring her even closer. She didn't even feel her own fingers curl into his shoulders, digging through the fabric of his shirt.
When they finally separated, their breathing harsh and ragged, she managed to gasp out, "Do you love me?"
"Yes." His large hand cupped the side of her face, his fingers stroking her cheek. His eyes were impossibly gentle.
"For how long?"
"Until the world falls down." He embraced her, and that was how they remained for a long time, limbs and hearts entwined.
The next morning, when Shunsui and Nanao walked into the studio hand-in-hand, several things happened, the least of which was absolute pandemonium. Matsumoto squealed and launched herself at Hitsugaya, who endured the hug with a long-suffering sigh. The female students in Shunsui's first year class were inconsolable, while the males talked proudly of their sensei's prowess. There was a mass stampede to Yumichika, who'd been keeping the books for this particular bet.
Minutes later, a bewildered Zaraki Kenpachi was faced with Yachiru, demanding that he buy her candy with the money "Yumi-chan" had given her.
And when Shunsui tried to give the crowd what they wanted (a passionate kiss), Nanao smacked him with her fan.
All was well.
When marimba rhythm starts to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
A/N: Whew! And that's the end, kiddies! Now, please review...or...you have to dance the quickstep with Mayuri! Gross.
So, where did I get this crazy idea? Well, as I was desperately trying to think of ideas for this challenge, I had some Michael Buble playing to get the creative juices flowing. And what song just happened to play? Why, "Sway," of course! Everything simply clicked. Also, there is an absolutely brilliant piece of Shunsui and Nanao fanart on deviantart that everyone should check out: hueco-mundo's "Por una Cabeza." That also helped greatly, as well as my love for any dancing movie. Major inspiration comes from THE BEST dance movie of all time, Baz Luhrmann's Strictly Ballroom. It is purely genius. Everyone should see that movie at least once in their life. Another bit of inspiration comes from the movie Don Juan DeMarco. As soon as I began writing this story and pondering Shunsui's character, it struck me that he is exactly the same as Johnny Depp's character. Both believe in bringing out the best in every woman. They also have many loves, but only one TRUE LOVE: for Don Juan DeMarco, it is Dona Ana, and for Shunsui, it is Nanao (duh!)
Much love goes out to Joha-chan (hehehe) for encouraging me to do this challenge in the first place, for counseling me through the agonizing moments of writer's block, and for general editing help. This story definitely wouldn't have happened without her! Also, kisses to Kim-chan, for making sure my dance stuff wasn't ridiculously off (I have limited experience with ballroom dancing, only a little bit of salsa and tango in my repertoire). Also to Bya-kun, my wonderful plushie that sat on my shoulder through much of the writing process. That's probably the reason Byakuya turned out as good as he did...
Chibi Byakuya: Chire, Senbonzakura
Author: squeals and runs away
Oh, by the way, should I do a follow-up HitsuMatsu in the same universe?