A Happy New Year

KenShuu; vaguely RoseZuru and ShuuZuru

Shuuhei sits, cross legged on the precipice of another life, drinking sake from a thermos, waiting for fireworks. Mashiro is babbling to Captain Muguruma behind him about gifts and their friends in the world of the living. Part of Shuuhei feels like he is always intruding on them. Their past, which he can never truly know, is tattooed on his cheek – the same symbol for two completely different histories. It is Shuuhei's world too, rubbing against theirs, like parodies of each other. Shuuhei takes a sip from the thermos. His hand twitches at his side, as if to rise and run calloused fingers over his cheek and the number there. Shuuhei knows it is devotion for Kensei - for his division and his fate, intertwined in it. For Shuuhei, it is a reminder of life and of fear and of a smile. The scars for the friends whose lives he could not save; the tattoo for the man who saved his.

Izuru is quiet when he walks (and when he talks, when he sits in his chair at his office, when he is and when he does.) He is on his knees, next to Shuuhei only seconds after Shuuhei realizes that he has arrived at all. Shuuhei looks at him; turns to see that Izuru's captain is talking to his.

"What a shitty year," Izuru says, an echo of feeling in his tone, he is looking out over the cliff and the Soul Society, covered in snow and glowing faintly with festive lights.

"Where did you come from?" Shuuhei replies, a grin on his lips. Izuru is … Izuru is something else entirely.

"Bed," Izuru says, his features are pleasantly blank but Shuuhei can hear the quip in his voice, "Captain Otoribashi told me that it would be a crying shame to miss something as beautiful as a fireworks show in favor of sleep."

Shuuhei knows that this is a direct quote and says nothing else.

Izuru sleeps too much, Shuuhei barely sleeps at all and they do not talk about it. There is nothing to live for, there is nothing to die for, it is a cycle: of life and death, sleep and consciousness, but there are people who care about them both and people they care about and on good days, Izuru is snarky and intimate and awake. On good days Shuuhei can sleep for eight hours, go to work, cook dinner and smile. (On good days Momo drags them both out into the sun and talks and wants to be talked to and Renji beats the living hell out of trees in the distance and gets the shit beat out of him by Ikkaku and Rangiku laughs at everyone's jokes, even Shuuhei's.)

"Sour pusses," Mashiro whines, popping up between their shoulders, she is loud but not unwanted. "You better smile when the fireworks start," she says, poking Shuuhei pointedly in the chest, "even if you don't mean it!" She turns suddenly, to Captain Muguruma and yells: "you too!" Rose, beside Kensei, chuckles into his hand and the sound is musical, carried across the green expanse of their cliff ledge. Shuuhei notices Izuru's eyes flicker briefly to the side, as if he is trying to avoid it. Kensei looks about ready to burst, his mouth opened for verbal assault, when the first pop resonates like a canon in the empty space. Izuru turns first, a smooth, decisive motion. Shuuhei watches him, watches the colorful lights of the fireworks explode in muted colors across his face; green and blue and yellow. The entire year is there, written across his eyes, and is leaving just the same. It is nothing at all; just a distant, miserable memory. The allusion of a fresh start is enticing, Shuuhei feels it like a weight lifted. Izuru catches him out of the corner of his eye, lips lifted in something that is almost a smile, and looks back to the sky. Shuuhei follows his lead; wide-eyed with wonder.

"I've missed Kukaku's firework displays," says Rose, pleasantly. He comes to Izuru's side and stays there, and smiles freely into the expanse. Shuuhei wonders if Rose is as bothered by the last one hundred years as Kensei is. Shuuhei can't see it or feel it. Kensei wears his emotions of his sleeve and he is easy to read and this is good for Shuuhei, who has always taken everything at face value. Izuru would know, but he doesn't talk about his captain like Shuuhei does, the two say a lot when they don't say anything at all; Shuuhei hasn't heard anything above a conversational tone exit either of their months in the presence of the other. From behind Shuuhei, Kensei grunts in acknowledgement.

The fireworks pop and vanish and pop and vanish, filling the sky and the snow below with color, Shuuhei couldn't look away if he wanted. There is something warm and wet on his cheek.

"A happy new year~" Mashiro sings, kissing Shuuhei first and then Izuru and then Rose. Kensei glares hard and with what could easily be misinterpreted as hatred, but which is actually affections as Mashrio whispers quietly "pervert" and does not kiss him.

Shuuhei is not brave enough to kiss him instead, not brave enough to play it off, but he wishes he were; wishes he could … Instead he chuckles lightly and smiles for his captain, who has given him the world, feels the way their futures are slowly becoming the same, and wishes for the moment to last and to never end.

No one asked for a cheesy, out of character, seasonal fic yet here we are. How did we get here? Who knows? Where do we go from here? Who knows? I liked the idea of Mashiro kissing everyone on the cheek. It seemed sentimental for a character who is almost exclusively portrayed childishly. Anyway, I'm sorry to force this on you. But it exists, nothing to be done about it now~

Please review, if you'd like. I will always appreciate a review. ;)

(And happy new year, in case I haven't said it before, it /is/ my favorite holiday)