HER SONG [FEAT. KYOKO]

An electrifying tingle jolted through the entirety of the situated soul reaper’s anatomy, and vigorously assuaged the lingering anxiety, only to weigh him down with the expected tension. A detail that continued to remain veiled through the pretentious curling of his lips; the only chink in his emotional safeguard being the enthusiasm her presence summoned into his eyes. He declined the need to get up and properly greet her, or even turn to her. His amber gems merely peered forth at the graceful night sky. Even with all of the preparation he’d have to woefully deny partaking in, he found himself having to swallow a lump in his throat prior to casting his deep, and naturally sinister voice into the sound waves, “I heard that you had cooties, and I simply couldn’t risk the infection, Nagi-chan.”

As the usual routine went with anything pertaining to his emotions, he deflected the seriousness with hilarity. Ashton even remembered to utilize the specific pet name that he’d made for her all those years ago, regardless of how she felt about it. The male’s eyelids dimmed, and a small slot of silence would stroll through the air as he begun to reminisce of all the time they spent together; more specifically the more memorable moments they garnered in this very location. The most imprisoned parts of his psyche were more than exposed to the nearby female. A semblance of a genuine smile mingled with his arrogant grin, a display that would leak into the following expansion of his lips, “If you had twenty-four hours left, what would my second favorite lady in Sereitei do?”

Through a truthful perspective, she deserved much more than an unorthodox question, but undoubtedly neither of them would be capable of recalling the last time an apology rolled off Ashton’s tongue. And instead, he simply layered the air with a vague, yet thoughtful inquiry.

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If the Nibantai Fukutaichō had deciphered a single detail of all of their time together, it would be his unrelenting wit. Whether or not she knew it, Ashton had disregarded her demand for him to cease the use of that particular pet name before the syllables had even rolled off of her lips. After all, he had spent a whole seven minutes inventing the nickname all of those years ago. Before the night was over, Kyo’s eardrums were finally going to get acclimated to the aforementioned moniker, and more importantly, he was going to break down her barriers of formality like he consistently did. And perhaps, even his virtually impenetrable safeguards would fracture.

However, her reciting of the inquiry caused his jaw to slide to the left, and attain a peripheral vision upon the female. The male death god’s wine-colored eyebrow twitched upward in interest as he patiently waited through the delay. He could only calculate the chances that she’d answer with a more alluring interpretation. And much to his dismay, she withheld that unnecessary professionalism and continued to transmute it into her lips. In her defense, every other word that slithered out of his mouth was a curveball to some degree.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he comically declared, uncrossing his legs and rising to his feet. For reasons that remained foreign to even himself, the seventh division snake exhaled deeply prior to coasting around the bench to stand closely with his old confidant. As he forwarded his undivided attention towards Kyo, he situated his sleeved right arm upon the back of the bench in a mimicking fashion to her own, and attempted to maneuver his left hand softly atop her forearm, “If my hours were running out, I’d make a night to remember with the people I care about.” The unnatural tenderness in his smile continued to persist, and lingered on in his dilated pupils. “Even if she has cooties.”

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The male snake of a lieutenant could never pinpoint the exact trait, but there was something supernatural about the woman before him that caused a heavy majority of his maliciousness and deceptiveness to evaporate from his persona. And while it irked him to no end, and even provoked prolonged evasion of her, he enjoyed the freedom her company brought. Managing to disclose this mental data via the sarcastic tattooing of his voice box was an issue on another level. However, coupling the action with mild laughter, he attempted it, “Listen, I just mis—”

Ashton’s voice came to an abrupt stop, and his head tilted sideways as his amber optics pursued an examination into her cheeks. It seemed as if her thorough layer of seriousness had been slightly penetrated by a mere discharge of syllables. And while it may have been credulous of him, his theory was only supplemented by the shy manner in which she cast his eyes off him. There was no denying the facts, he found it to be one of the cutest things he’d witnessed the entire year; a side of her that he’d not seen in too many years. He missed it, and he missed her even more.

Whatever sentimentality the man was so inclined to verbalize a second ago quickly drowned in a whimsical sea of smugness. “I’m sorry, Nagi-chan,” a blink drifted over his eyelids as his minty breath inched closer in investigation, “I think you’re blushing.” Through an unconscious motion, and to an almost unnoticeable degree, the grip he had on her forearm tightened. And his grinning lips expanded to tickle and tease every bit of seriousness off her alluring face, “Wait…I didn’t do that, did I?”

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Every time his voice mingled with the sound waves, he knowingly invoked discombobulation or shyness within her person. There wasn’t another living being in Sereitei that could spark this amount of enjoyment from him by simple teasing. Each and every time her lips opened through a confused manner, or closed off and averted through shyness, it only reminded him that she might have been the only regret when he detached himself from their respective hierarchy. If tonight was going to be his last night with her or in this entire place in general, he was determined to minimize his qualms by reveling in the time he had now.

While it was apparent that she misunderstood the premise of his comedic apology, she seemed to grasp the understanding once he continued to tease. And no matter how much denial she attempted to harmonize her dialogue with, her visage displayed the authenticity of his claims; he delighted in every new shade of her flush. He could release a snicker at the scarcity of eye contact with her. Yet in irony, the thing his eyes hungered for the most was a visual link with those light gold gems integrated into the fair skin of her face.

Ashton’s softly-calloused hand that was so leisurely eased upon her forearm gravitated towards her own, and attempted to intimately conjoin. He made a conscious effort to ease down his multiple barriers, and leaked the bulk of his sarcasm out with a chuckle. The male’s smile widened while silence dusted over the two, his mouth opening with not arrogance or jest, but sentimental confidence for once, “I just missed you.” Had he not knocked on death’s door just forty-eight hours prior, the need to say such words would have been nonexistent. Hell, this whole scenario in itself was extremely uncharacteristic for the Nanabantai Fukutaichō.

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As he calculated, there would be obvious ramifications for his actions. Typically, he didn’t account for the emotions in which his actions stirred. Had there been any bystanders nearby, they would easily be able to determine that she was an exception to the rule. As much as he’d like to justify his actions through both of the unorthodox accounts, his membrane simply wasn’t wired to function in that manner. Even when he’d attempted to get a word in, her agitation had continued to manifest and barricaded his speech, “…”

The primary reasoning that invoked his evasion of her came to the forefront of his mind, it was his emotion. She’d grown way too close, and he’d cared for her more than he’d ever like; she was a liability to his cause and progression. Throughout the entirety of her rant, a mild sorrow transmuted his curled lips into a blank line, and his eyelids bridged downward for a few seconds. Ashton’s thumb delicately soothed the skin of her hand as he patiently endured. He’d almost wished that last sentence of her hadn’t intruded his ears, for it carried a greater jab than he’d experienced in most battles. When she came to finish, the male’s amber optics would free from his eyelid’s darkness, and cast their sights away from her face.

“I wouldn’t have been able to miss you so much if I didn’t avoid you,” he sarcastically claimed with a scoff that eased into another chuckle. According to the re-puzzled grin on Ashton’s face, the logic behind his actions would have to remain an anomaly to her. “Details are always boring, Nagi-chan.” The male lieutenant’s hand continued to tenderly massage Kyo’s own, and a misunderstood flutter pulsed through his heart. Upon mere instinct alone, the Casanova of a soul reaper allowed his golden eyes to once again come in contact with her own; a certain fixation in his pupils that conveyed a oneness with the female, as if she were the only person in the world.

“Besides, sweetheart,” his flirtatious tongue came into play, and he lifted the arm he rested upon the back of the bench, giving himself a proper stance whilst continuing to hold her hand with the other. Utilizing the now freed arm, Ashton slightly outstretched his hand, and authorized his forefinger and thumb to glide about her chin and cheek. Expanding his lips, he teased her with a soft tone, “I’d much rather see you smile and blush than pout about the past.”

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The silence of their thoughts would’ve remained unbroken had it not been for the chilling gust of wind. They stood so close that they could’ve not only felt each other’s warmth, but feel each and every tender tingle that the other would induce. And yet, they were separated by an endless abyss. No matter how much the female in this equation reached and hollered, they would continue to go virtually unheard behind them male’s countless emotional safeguards. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Ashton comprehended this dynamic fully. His mind was a maze that even he failed to navigate at times, and she was perhaps one of the few people he encountered that wielded a high probability of success.

The depth of his pupils would sing a most sorrowful song, and remain veiled by an unremarkable amber shield of contentment, and with the beautiful picture before him, the latter was by no means a full façade. By the time his lips opened, her requests of clarification would fall to the depths of his mind, for only one thing remained significant at the forefront of his mind, “Synesthesia, was it?” The conjoining with her hand tightened, but not with fury; with love and care, and the hand that caressed her soft cheeks came to experience the temperature of her rose-colored cheeks. “I’ve told you before: you can look at me with those beautiful eyes all you want, but that's not the way to read me.” His voice carried a delicate touch that the greatest of actors would fail to mimic and every molecule in his golden eyes begun to mirror his tone.

The very thought of her receiving answers to the plethora of questions she had confounded him to no end. If she were fortunate enough to receive anything, it would be in marginal bits, and she would learn to enjoy that. Every crack in her extra-professional barricade would be exploited to the full extent, and she was going to rejoice in contentment before she knew it. And just maybe, if she located the key, she might have had the chance to unlock the door into the maze.

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