The air in the 8th Division courtyard was thick with the scent of early summer—new grass and warm stone, and the faint perfume of cherry trees that had only just begun to bloom. Soul Society's seasons didn’t always follow the rules of the world of the living. They moved with the moods of the reiryoku that flowed beneath the Seireitei like invisible rivers. And today, the spiritual air was calm.

Too calm.

You stood near the edge of the barracks garden, posture straight, arms crossed behind your back. Your robes were perfectly pressed. Your expression unreadable.

He was late.

Again.

Your foot tapped the stones beneath the weight of your patience.

Captain Shunsui Kyōraku was supposed to be briefing you for the joint operation with the 13th Division. And while technically you were a member of his squad, it had never really felt like it. He floated like a feather through command, delegating everything with a sleepy smile and a bottle of sake, while you… handled the structure.

Someone had to.

A breeze brushed your face. You didn’t move.

“Now, now,” a familiar drawl said from behind you, like a cat curling lazily around your shadow, “you’ll wrinkle your pretty brow if you keep frowning like that.”

You turned.

He was exactly as always: Straw hat tilted forward, shadowing those mischievous eyes; pink-flowered haori loose over his uniform, slipping off one shoulder. He walked with the deliberate laziness of a man who had never rushed for anything in his life. His smile was as casual as it was sharp.

You didn’t greet him.

He liked that.

Shunsui sighed with exaggerated despair. “Still giving me the cold shoulder, hmm? Even after I brought you something.”

He held up a tiny paper fan with a fox pattern, its edge folded neatly.

You didn’t take it.

You gave him a look so dry it could sand wood.

He chuckled at that, head tilting to the side, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Ahh… I do enjoy our chats. You wound me so elegantly.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

He stepped past you and into the garden, sandals whispering over the path. His fingers trailed along the edge of the koi pond, where the water shimmered in the light. A single blossom fell from the tree above, drifting toward his shoulder.

He caught it without looking.

“Do you hate me?” he asked suddenly, the lightness in his tone muted but not absent. “You always wear that expression, like you’re calculating how many years you’d get if you buried me in paperwork and locked the door.”

You stared.

And he laughed again. “I like that look. Keeps me on my toes.”

You frowned. That… wasn’t like him. Not exactly. But before you could respond, the moment was already dissolving. He turned again, the blossom falling from his hand, spinning toward the stones.

“C’mon, walk with me. Let’s talk business. I did promise a briefing, didn’t I?”