Bleach Shunsui - Blog Posts
The Last Petal
Shunsui x widow reader (Jushiro's wife)
2.5k
Warning and mental health TRIGGERS: Mention of alcohol, angst, reader was Jushiro’s wife, Shunsui taking advantage of vulnerable Reader, no explicit smut but mention of sleeping with Reader while she is confused, ptsd, concussion, confusion, denial, alcohol, alcoholism, despair, depression, mental health, grief, a sad cryptic ending.
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As we sit here under the dancing stars, sharing our last drink, promise me that you will take care of her. That is my last request, my friend. You owe me that much. — Jushiro
One month post-war.
You woke up, drenched in sweat and noticed a lumpy warm figure nuzzled beside you. You felt a heaviness in your chest. Although the dark, quiet room brought a sense of calm, the very darkness stirred your anxious soul.
Your husband laid still as if he was catching up on sleep.
You had a dream. You dreamt of your husband finally breaking free of the curse that was his illness. The curse he never disclosed, even to his wife up until the peak moment of the war. The war that cost him his life and left you a widow.
Yet, here he laid, on your bed as if the war was nothing but a nightmare, crafted from the trauma that continued to linger. While the dream you just had felt more real, the truth was, you had your realities confused.
You press your head back down on the pillow, your mind numb and memories hazy. During the war, you had experienced a terrible blow to the head. A concussion that skewed all judgement— you could not think straight. Neither could he.
You closed your eyes, your head was spinning and your ears were ringing. That ringing had never left you, as if it echoed the screams of soldiers consumed by the war.
From within those screams, a faint sound of snoring comes beside you. Your husband never was the one to snore. He suffered from chronic insomnia because of his illness and he never slept so peacefully. But now that he broke free from the curse, he could rest in peace.
You suffered from short-term memory loss and post-concussion syndrome. Every day felt like a dream as you walked around with a constant headache, tinnitus and tunnel vision.
Your head was spinning and memories from last night were fragmented, like your heart. Even now, you couldn't tell if you were awake or dreaming. Your brain could not distinguish between the two.
Your body was sore but not because of the injuries you sustained from the war. You felt a warmth between your legs that spread upwards towards your core and up your chest, finally wrapping around your heart and giving it a firm squeeze. Panic was slowly brewing. You clench your chest as if you are grabbing for your racing heart, trying to rip it out of your chest as guilt slowly drains your vigour. Why was there guilt and this overwhelming sense of dread? You didn't do anything wrong. Did you?
With your heart thumping theatrically in your rib cage, you extend out your hand, hoping to feel your fingers glide through his silky but fragile strands of white hair. But alas, your hands grab onto coarse locks of messy loose curls. You could not see the colour because the room was dark.
You did not need the light to notice the lack of radiance. Your husband's hair had a shine that grabbed you from the darkness and guided you towards the light. The hair you had grasped was dark, thick and dull— just like his heart.
You felt a wave of nausea surge through you like an unstoppable storm. You covered your mouth, finding it impossible to contain that involuntary gasp that stirred up the sleeping man beside you— the man who had claimed the space where your late husband once slept.
“No! No! No!” came your trembling denial.
Your brain came up with inexcusable excuses, a desperate desire to justify your current sleeping arrangement.
He must have decided to give me company last night after we visited the graves. Why was I at the cemetery? Whose grave was I visiting? Where is my husband, Jushiro?
Shunsui sensed the turmoil that disturbed your grieving soul. He woke up, his eyelids heavy with sleep as not much sleep was granted last night. He had a few drinks to numb the sorrow and now his mind was buzzing from the aftermath. He also felt a wave of nausea which he quickly swallowed down as his pride was at stake.
He studied your face in the dark, his night vision a lot sharper than yours. He saw the dreadful shock etched across your face. He shuffled, slowly sitting up, revealing his bare chest glistening with night sweats. It was warm in your room. He was warm. But your husband was always cold.
Although warm, a shocking chill ran through your sweaty body. The nausea still lingered but there was no rush to get to the nearest bathroom. You slowly grabbed the blanket and pulled it closer to your body and up to your neck. He sat still, his face calm—satisfied, unapologetic. However, he had to choose his words carefully. He understood he was treading on thin ice, and it wouldn’t take much to crack you.
“Good morning, Petal. You look restless. What disturbs your sleep? Another nightmare?” came his soothing but groggy whisper.
Why did he have to speak? It made this dream all so real.
“Where is my husband?”, you asked, gathering more of the blanket around you to shield yourself.
“Oh my dear, you know where he is. We visited him last night”, he patiently reminded you. He kept a distance between you, hoping you would slowly recall last night's event, sparing him the need to explain his actions.
“Why are you in my bed? I know this is a dream but still. Please get my husband. Ouch”, you whinced and grabbed your temples when a sharp pain pierced through your skull. These daily ice-pick headaches were relentless, never granting you a moment of ease.
Shunsui reached out with his hand to comfort you, a look of pity in his tired eyes, which even in the dark you could spot that familiar soft gaze. His fingertips barely grazed over the skin of your forearm that tightly clenched onto the blanket to preserve your dignity. You did not hesitate to smack his hand away.
“My dear. You know exactly where your husband is. Please just settle down”. He tried to comfort your anxious mind but you pushed him away.
You refuse to face reality. “Can you just go”, you begged him with your eyes all the while fighting back tears. You couldn't stand being around him. Yet, you were the one who came to him seeking comfort.
Shunsui wanted to ease your mind and make you aware that nothing happened last night. Emotions were high and after a couple of drinks, things would have progressed very quickly. Luckily, Shunsui couldn't get it up. And so a crisis was diverted all the while you sobbed in his chest, celebrating the one-month anniversary of the departure of your dear late husband.
As soon as he opened his mouth to explain last night, you burst into tears.
“Just get out!” you shouted when he made another attempt to comfort you.
Shunsui stayed silent. He didn’t want to fracture you any more than you already were.
He got up and gathered his belongings off the floor. He headed towards the bathroom to quickly clean up while you sank back under the blankets, waiting for this nightmare to end.
——
Many of the survivors were reassigned to different squads to help maintain balance (both in power and numbers) within the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. Previously, you were in squad 10. Now you were under the direct watch of the Head Captain himself. He even promoted you so he could casually bump into you more often. Your well-being had concerned him. It had become an unhealthy obsession that even Nanao couldn't ignore.
“Give her some space. You are smothering her”, said the co-lieutenant while dropping a bunch of heavy registers on his desk.
“I can't let her drown in her sorrows”, he replied. While working on the grim task of going through the names of casualties so he could officially register them as deceased, he decided to replace his morning tea with alcohol. That had become his daily morning gloomy routine.
“It seems the one drowning in sorrow is you”. Nanao didn't pity the man. She knew he was stronger than this. Alcohol was his way of grieving. But as the Head Captain, he did not have the luxury to grieve.
“Take my advice”, Nanao paused for a second at the door before her departure. “Don't do anything that would have Captain Ukitake turn in his grave”.
Once Nanao left, he reached for a folded parchment that was tucked away neatly in his pants.
“Turn in his grave, you say? I think we are way past that now, Nanao”.
——-
Later that day, you were spotted outside, sweeping away rubble from fallen buildings. A mindless task for you as you cannot focus on anything else meaningful. Not that cleaning up wasn't meaningful. Everyone had to pitch in and do at least 4 hours of manual labour every day to help restore Seireitei to its former glory.
With each stroke of your wooden broom, your mind actively wanders to dark places. A pit of despair awaits you and you get pulled in towards the center. You try to scream but the void creates no sound. You are lost in the darkness of it all. Not a single light shines to guide your soul out of the darkness. And as all hope is lost, you notice a small pink flower petal fall towards you. You extend out your hand, trying to grab the single petal that so gracefully dances like a snowflake. And as you close your fist around it, you open your eyes and find yourself holding onto the pink kimono draped around his shoulders.
“There she is. You had me worried there for a moment, princess. Are you alright?”
You glanced up at him with a glossy gaze, unsure what had transpired. One moment you were sweeping—then suddenly, you were swallowed by darkness.
You let go of his clothes and he grabbed the broom out of your hand. You had zoned out for a few minutes and were inattentively sweeping the same spot over and over again.
“You shouldn't be doing any physical labour. That is why I gave you an officer’s position”, Shunsui said.
“Regardless of your position, you are still required to pitch in on the efforts to restore the Soul Society. Captains and Head Captains are also not exempt from this civil duty”, you explained, still shaken up from what you had experienced.
“And the injured are exempt. That includes me”, he joked while pointing to his eye patch, although the man never needed any valid excuse to be lazy.
“I have no physical injuries”, you argued.
“Exactly. No physical injuries that we can see. But your heart is still injured”. He set the broom aside against a giant boulder and took a step towards you. His hand rested under your chin and he ran the padding of his thumb across your quivering bottom lip. “Let me personally tend to that wound”.
Your body is frozen. His warm touch is comforting and you seek for more. You desperately want to cling to him so you don't fall back down into despair.
Fortunately, no one was around to witness the shameless display of disloyalty— a betrayal by his best friend and his wife. It was only a matter of time before he captured your lips, your sweet soft lips that pulled him out of his own pit of despair.
You had no willpower to push him away. Instead, you deepen the kiss by wrapping your arms around his neck to anchor him down. You did not want that petal to be picked up by the wind and blown away.
Both surrender to passion, searching desperately for solace. It is the familiarity that pushes you onwards. You are reminded of the day when you first met him. It was before you met your late husband, Jushiro.
-flashback-
Once upon a time, a few centuries ago, you had gifted your heart to Shunsui. But then he introduced you to his best friend, Jushiro. Well, one look at the angel had you instantly fall in love.
Unbeknownst to you, for years, Jushiro felt the guilt of stealing his best friend's woman. But Shunsui played it cool as if you were just another woman and a short fling. You thought the same, given his well-known reputation.
But the truth was, Shunsui never got past you. You stole his heart and shattered it the day you married his best friend. Given Shunsui's calm demeanour, he made it seem like it never bothered him. But Jushiro could see the pain he caused his friend.
And that last night they spent together under the stars, the crickets played one last song as old friends reminisced over aged sake. Jushiro gave Shunsui a handwritten letter addressed to his wife and also returned the heart he had previously stolen.
————
Shunsui hands you that letter. You recognize your husband's writing. It wrenches your heart, knowing this was the last message he had for you.
My dear wife,
I hope by the time you find this letter, you have finished mourning for me.
For years, I have hidden this dark secret from my beloved, shielding her from the evil that plagues this world. But now, I can no longer offer her that protection.
And so, I pass on my duty to my dear old friend. But knowing him, he’s likely already made a mess of things. Forgive him, if you can—grace is not his strong suit and his reputation precedes him.
If you must hate anyone, hate me, the man who could not fulfill his duty to protect his wife. Bear no ill will to the man who only wishes to protect his delicate flower. The flower he once plucked but was selfishly stolen from within his tight grasp. He should have held onto that flower tighter.
And now he shall.
Always keep me in your heart but never let it be a burden.
Your loving husband,
— Jushiro
You felt your heart slowly settling. Listening to your husband's poetic words in your head gives you a sense of calmness. But it also made his death more tangible. It was a reminder that he was truly gone from this world and his soul probably began its next journey ahead.
You reach into your pocket and for a moment he foolishly thought you were about to hand him your house keys.
Instead, you present him with a letter of your own. He quietly reads the words that are not as poetic as your husband's and reopens unseen wounds from the past.
Nevertheless, he ignores the heartache and wears that familiar, deceitful smile. The same nonchalant smile that cost him his love once before.
“Is that what you want, petal?” he confirmed once he read through the letter twice.
“Yes”. You stood firm in your decision, unmoved by his earlier attempts to charm you.
“Very well. I'll see through it immediately”.
Your request to be reassigned to your previous squad was approved.
What you requested was distance and time away from him— both necessary to heal your heart and soul.
But at what cost?
The pink flower, whose delicate petals once saved you from despair, refused to blossom once more. And thus, with time, the flower slowly withers away, leaving wilted grey petals along its path.