Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters are not mine. They belong to Kubo Tite.
Forbidden
It was forbidden.
She was nothing more than a tool – an exquisitely-shaped tool, trained to kill anyone who stood in Mayuri-sama's way. Her entire purpose was to serve him, to follow him, to be used by him, just like one of his many detachable body parts. In a very real sense, that described her exactly. One of Mayuri-sama's detachable body parts. One that he could send on missions, and one that think for itself. One that was half as powerful as he was, and the one person he absolutely trusted. After all, if you couldn't trust your own flesh and blood, who could you trust?
It was unthinkable.
He had sworn, by the pride of generations of his predecessors and upon the dead body of his grandfather, to hate each and every one of them to his dying breath. He had sacrificed all that he had, cut himself off from the only person in his generation whom he felt could possibly understand him, in order to regain his powers. The powers to bring death to death itself. He was never again to associate himself with a Shinigami. That was the promise he had made to his father. And he would stick to it. After all, if you couldn't trust your own flesh and blood, who could you trust?
By all rights, she should have let him die.
He had been poisoned by Mayuri-sama's soul cutter. She was immune, and would recover from her paralysis with time, anyway. Mayuri-sama, her father, had been defeated by the boy. By all rights, she should have been angry – even vengeful. That's what Mayuri-sama would have felt. She had inherited his flesh and his soul, hadn't she? Why had she not felt the same? But all she had seen was that the young man had been kind to her and her family, even when they had not been to him and his. He had spared her master from a fatal wound; she had stood watching while his master died under painful torture. Was it because of justice? Did she feel that she owed him something?
By all rights, he should have let her die.
Her captain – her creator – had just tried to kill him. She was an assistant to the man who had cold-bloodedly slaughtered generations of Quincy, included his own sensei. By all rights, he should have taken it out on her – that deep, abiding hatred he had for all Shinigami. She had been paralysed. It would have been an easy shot, and he could have had his revenge. She was one of them, wasn't she? Why had he not done so? Why had he accepted her antidote, and even concerned himself with her welfare? Was it because of chivalry? Did he automatically jump to help any member of the opposite gender, even though they were the enemy?
All she knew was that, when Mayuri-sama gave her the task of trailing him to find out more about his life and his abilities, she had been strangely glad.
And all he knew was that, when he had detected her presence shadowing his every footstep and recognised who she was, he didn't mind.
One didn't associate with the enemy, of course.
…
But observation wasn't forbidden.
Author's Notes: To be honest, I'm not sure whether to continue with this story or not. It works great as a one-shot, but has so much potential as a multi-chapter Romeo-and-Juliet kind of fic, too. And I know it's not the usual pairings, but I've always wanted to write this idea out. Perhaps someone with better skills (or more time) than me would be able to take it on and create a really beautiful Ishida/Nemu. For now, it's a one-shot.