halfamoon | Fic: Q & A [Bleach]

Title: Q & A
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Yoruichi, Soifon
Author:

sophiap
Rating: PG
Word Count: c. 1,700
Author's Notes: Thanks to

aishuu and

incandescens for their feedback on this and for pushing me past the original ending to this piece. This was written specifically for

halfamoon, as part of my attempt to write some one-shots focused on the ladies of Bleach.

Summary: A few days after their fight, Yoruichi finally has time to explain why she didn't take Soifon with her a hundred years ago. It is a conversation she would have preferred to avoid.

At some point during the past one hundred years, Soifon had gone from being good at covert ops to being very good at covert ops. One moment, Yoruichi was basking in a sunny spot on the roof of the Twelfth Division (a favorite roost, blessedly unchanged since Kisuke's day). The next, the sun was blocked out and there was a light but uncompromising pressure on her tail.

She sighed. "I suppose this means you want to talk."

That got a barely audible grunt of affirmation. Soifon lifted her foot, and Yoruichi swiped her tail out of harm's way.

"You only had to say, you know." She did a few grooming passes, even though her fur was already immaculate. "I wasn't planning on going anywhere."

"Yet."

Yoruichi sighed and stood up. Then, she stood up some more, stretching and settling into human form. It didn't bother her that some of the Twelfth Division researchers might see her in all her naked glory. In her opinion, the sight would probably do those pasty nerds some good.

"I'm not going back into total exile, you know. I'm not going to simply up and disappear for another century. I will be in contact. Especially now." She turned in such a way to make it clear she was looking at the wreckage atop Soukyoku Hill, or more to the point, the sky above it.

Yoruichi waited, but Soifon still said nothing. She just stood there, glowering, her cheeks puffed out as if she were a spoiled child being denied a second sweet after dinner.

"Let's see..." Yoruichi twisted her mouth and drummed her fingertips on her hip, giving a great show of thought. "Right now, you could say something like 'take me with you,' but that would make you a deserter, right? And one thing you do not do is give up. I've known that for a long time. Besides, would you really leave your division in Oomaeda's hands?"

Soifon did not come to her second's defense, but that was hardly surprising. She seemed determined not to say anything, not counting that one-syllable blurt.

That would not do.

"On the other hand, I suppose you could say something like 'will you stay?' It's a good question. No one is making any noise about criminal charges, and you are three captains short at the moment. It's a good question, and you could have asked it at any time in the past few days."

Soifon's face went from almost purple to sickly-pale.

"But then, if you asked that question, I would have to answer it, right?"

No response, but there was a faint nod. This hardly looked like a woman who could sneak up and step on one's tail.

"And while you are the bravest woman I have ever met, you are so afraid of what that answer might be that you aren't saying anything at all. In fact, you haven't said anything to me since we tried to stop Aizen."

There was another of those damnable silences, but before Yoruichi could think of another way to dig and poke, Soifon rounded on her.

"I was waiting for you to talk to me!" The shout echoed off the walls of the Twelfth's courtyard. There was a faint thump that might have been an annoyed researcher shutting his window against the noise.

It was Yoruichi's turn to respond with a one-syllable non-answer:

"Huh?"

"You never answered my question." Soifon was so calm so suddenly she had to be furious, either at herself or at Yoruichi. Or possibly both.

Given that Soifon hadn't spoken to her in days, Yoruichi almost asked 'what question?' but before she could say anything that abysmally stupid she remembered what happened the last time they did speak.

Their fight to the death had led to Soifon going from boasting in how much she'd grown to ranting about every way Yoruichi had disappointed her. At last, when Soifon knew there was no way she could win either the physical fight or the verbal one, everything she had wanted to say for the past hundred years had come spilling out.

Why didn't you take me with you?

At the time, Yoruichi gave the only answer she could have given: she just pulled Soifon into a hug and let her cry herself out. There was a lot there to cry out, and in a perfect world, Yoruichi would have led Soifon off somewhere where she could sleep off the cry-jag headache, then gotten her good and drunk so they could really talk.

Even when he was a geeky little vice-captain, Aizen had a knack for butting in at the worst moments.

Right now, it would have been so easy to go the hug-and-cry route again, but that wouldn't solve anything. And the next time, Soifon would probably sneak up on her and cut off her whiskers.

"Do you want the truth?" she asked softly. Yoruichi reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from Soifon's forehead. Soifon's hair was short enough now that it was a very different gesture than it was a hundred years ago, but it still felt the same.

There was the briefest of pauses, and then a small, hesitant nod. Then, while Yoruichi was still wondering how the hell she was going to handle this, Soifon looked up, and with calm determination, said a very clear, very firm "yes."

Yoruichi gave her a crooked smile. "Now there's my brave girl."

"Are you going to answer?"

Brave and cranky. Just like Yoruichi remembered.

"For one thing, there just wasn't enough time. It would have been a lot easier to get the job done with some capable help--" She paused long enough to enjoy the faint, smug smile this elicited. "But I had to act quickly. I didn't know if I had enough time to fill you in, let alone find you."

Soifon looked as if she couldn't decide if she was disappointed or relieved. Clearly, this was not the answer she had expected. But as the leader of the onmitsukidou, she should damn well understand it.

But then there was the matter of why she hadn't sought out Soifon in the three days since their fight brought them back together. If she was lucky, Soifon wouldn't bring that up. If she did bring it up, Yoruichi had no idea how she would answer.

She had a feeling that I was getting drunk off my ass with Shiba Kuukaku wouldn't cut it.

"I see." This was said with uncharacteristic meekness, which meant that Yoruichi should have known to brace herself for what came next:

"If there had been time--if you did have enough warning--would you have asked me?"

It wasn't a challenge. It was a plea.

"That's not a fair question!" Yoruichi blurted. "There wasn't enough time, and afterwards, what would be the point of thinking about what didn't happen?"

She should have known Soifon wouldn't drop the subject. It was terribly tempting to turn back into a cat and dash off into some hidden crevice or cranny where Soifon couldn't follow.

"You wouldn't have, would you?"

Anger and bitterness would have been easier to deal with than this crushed disappointment and the first flash of tears. If Soifon had become angry, then Yoruichi could have been self-righteously pissed off at the other woman's selfishness and childishly unreasonable demands.

Now, she found herself wanting to make things right, wanting to make Soifon's sadness not her fault. There were many things she could say that would appease the other woman--she wanted to protect her, she couldn't ask her to make that kind of sacrifice, or some other random piece of condescending bullshit.

Yes, she was also pissed-off, but not at Soifon.

"You're right. I wouldn't have," she said softly. "Do you know why I would not have asked you to come with me?"

Soifon was so stunned by Yoruichi's answer she could only shake her head obediently.

Yoruichi gave her a crooked smile. A smile that might have been a little shaky.

She was often quick to point out others' hypocrisy. Facing up to her own was the one thing that gave her any understanding of why so many people equated nakedness with shame and vulnerability.

"Truth is, I don't know what I would've done if you had said 'no.'"

Soifon's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. She went pale, then purple, then pale again.

Well, yes. Of course. Soifon's family had been raised to be loyal, and to have that loyalty doubted...

Yoruichi shifted her hips slightly, readying herself to spring. She just didn't know if it would be in defense or to give chase.

Soifon seemed uncertain of what to do, herself. There were so many options. She could disappear in a flash, or turn and walk away in full possession of her dignity. She might attempt to administer a beatdown or pretend she was unaffected.

Or maybe it was just that she had as little idea of what to say as Yoruichi did.

She knelt down where she stood, shins resting on either side of the roof's peak, but Yoruichi would never have mistaken it as a gesture of submission or surrender.

Yoruichi let go of the breath she'd been holding, and felt her shoulders sink, first in relief, and then further down than that as bones and flesh shrank and changed. She trotted over to Soifon, tail held up like a banner.

Not a banner of victory, but maybe something like a peace flag...

Soifon reached out and scooped Yoruichi into her arms the way she had so many times so long ago. It still felt completely natural.

"I won't ask you to come with me this time," Yoruichi said.

"I know." Soifon's voice was steady for all that she was rubbing her face in Yoruichi's fur. Maybe she'd heard the faint stress on Yoruichi's last two words, or maybe she hadn't. "But you'll be coming back, won't you?"

Of course she would. With all the chaos Aizen had brought and promised to bring, Yoruichi would have many reasons to come back to Soul Society and she had already said as much, but that wasn't what Soifon was asking.

Instead of a 'yes,' the best answer Yoruichi could give was a deep purr. And when Soifon squeezed her gently, she knew that she had been heard--and believed.