Title :: Balance
Setting :: Bleach
Characters :: Shuuhei, Yumichika
Words :: 985
Summary :: After Yumichika beat him, Shuuhei really didn't take it that well... but that's hardly all it was about.
Dedication :: peroxidepest17, who wanted to read some ShuuYumi and is the one whose writing first introduced me to the pairing anyway ~ ie, s'all her fault. I say that a lot. ;) And my Bleach Betas, cymry and aliciam (who has to watch the series now, dangnabbit!) cause they rock.

Yumichika would prance and preen and glow, always with that extra cheerful smile just for Shuuhei. The vice-captain would scowl and storm off, doing his best to ignore the gleeful titters that followed him, or the delighted squeals about 'how cute he looked when he was pouting'. People pointed and laughed, discreetly or not so discreetly, and Shuuhei endured.

His dignity was in tatters at his feet and he wasn't taking to that too well, truth be told, though he knew he had only himself to blame.

He had no captain to rely upon, having to take care of an entire division on his own. His vice-captain duties now had the addition of a captain's burden, along with trying to keep far too many lost and confused shinigami on their feet, while pretending everything was fine and that he could handle it without any problems, never mind his own feelings of abandonment and betrayal. That he hadn't even been able to live up to his title and had been defeated by the Eleventh Division's fifth seat had been a blow more painful than anyone knew – and that too, he hid away carefully, letting them laugh at his dark moods without any overt reaction or retaliation.

During the day he sliced through the lighter tempered crowds and gatherings of shinigami without a word, always taking the straightest line to his destination, always aware of Yumichika's proximity yet never quite acknowledging it.

During the night, when the memory of his captain's betrayal became too sharp, bile rising in his throat and leaving him retching in the wee hours of the mornings and stealing whatever pretence at sleep he could manage, he gave up on trying to sleep and found refuge in the courtyard of his division. He spent most of the night time hours there, awake and training. Sometimes he meditated, but most often he shadow sparred, trying to push himself further, to become stronger so that he could be what his division needed so very desperately, now more than ever before.

Strong. Steady. Dependable. There.

When the not so subtle laughter suddenly stopped, with several shinigami turning up in the bemused Fourth Division's ward that day and even Matsumoto taking care not to embarrass him in any way, Shuuhei never even noticed, so focused was he on achieving his goals no matter what he had to do in the process. The shadows under his eyes grew without his notice, the potions and concoctions given to his officers by the Fourth Division healers showing up in his office swallowed without any realization on his part as to their nature or purpose. He soldiered on because it was needed, and because it was the only thing left for him to do. And he would do that well, he told himself, because he could do no less. And because if he did not, who would?

Slowly, his unit started to pull itself together, in an effort to meet their vice-captain halfway and try to remove the heaviest part of the burden they had become from his shoulders. The gloom about the ninth division started to fade, and after a while, laughter was heard once more. The looks of mildly surprised approval from Shuuhei were soon fiercely sought after, and sometimes at night he discovered that he had people to spar with, though he had to hold back with them far more than he'd ever had to before, for some reason.

His office was redecorated one day, a wall suddenly gifted with a new window, the hallways brightened with color and light. The members of the ninth no longer moped or sulked about, but started to move with new purpose, to train with new dedication. To look to Shuuhei for approval on their progress, for support in their endeavours. Shuuhei himself started to discover paperwork done and neatly stacked on his desk nearly every day, all of it carefully done in a flourishing handwriting he didn't know yet came to appreciate endlessly.

It wasn't until the sixth seat of his division used a very particular move during an evening's sparring session that everything fell into place. With great care and dedication, Shuuhei proceeded to question the poor boy until he finally had to sit on him and twist his arm (literally) to get a confession.

The next day, when Yumichika was ushered into Shuuhei's office, beaming merrily at the petite shinigami who had helped him sneak into the division's enclave, a note awaited him.

Whatever was on the note was enough to send him into a sparkling flutter, his accomplice hugged and twirled about in delight before being kindly ejected for the room, the fifth seat then declaring war upon the division's frightening amounts of paperwork with renewed resolve.

Shuuhei was seen leaving the captains and vice-captains' meeting a good hour earlier that day, later on carrying not one but two bento under his arm, as he returned to his division for an early lunch break.

~*~

When Shuuhei woke up three days later from a drug induced sleep, he proceeded to quite calmly dress and then strolled out of his division with a purposeful air about him. A while later, he was seen chasing a cheerfully laughing Yumichika across the entirety of the Seireitei, threatening bloody blue murder upon his sorry carcass, until the Eleventh Division's own captain tired of the two shinigami's antics and started to chase them around the Seireitei, promising to lop off both their heads if they didn't stop all the racket right this instant for fuck's sake.

Yachiru watched the show from the roof, sharing a bag of popcorn with a snickering Ikkaku, the both of them cheering their captain on without any regard for the safety of those being trampled in the wake of the running men.

Now maybe Yumichika would stop fussing and worrying and go back to being himself, they thought.

Current Mood: satisfied