Meds for One Work for Two

Seireitei takes a breather after an unforeseen incident, and Ukitake must face a new medicine--with some not-so-appreciated help from Unohana. Humor. No pairings, but Ukitake/Unohana if you want to see it that way. Enjoy!

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A lovely summer day had dawned over Seireitei, refreshing in its own right. Business as usual for the Gotei 13 was currently suspended—after yesterday’s explosion in the research center was finally contained in the early hours of the morning, every shinigami had fully engaged him or herself in the rescue and repairs, working themselves to the bone to keep up with the frantic pace of things. So today had been informally declared a “rest and recovery” day for the squads to rebuild and reorganize themselves, as well as take some much-needed downtime.

Byakuya was stalking about his mansion in noble silence; Shunsui was lazing about on the roof of the 8th Division, occasionally harassing Nanao-chan; Komamura was attempting “puppy-dog” eyes on Shuuhei (with little success) and begging him to rub the back of his neck with the “special brush” (i.e. dog brush) from the real world; and Hitsugaya was concentrating on looking as irritated as possible, trying to guilt Matsumoto into actually filing some paperwork. And there was a heck of a lot of it to go around after yesterday’s mess.

Birds chirped merrily in the trees, the lush grass sparkled with morning dew, and all was peaceful in the—

“GAH! There is no way I’m drinking that!”

A loud cry rang out through the gardens of the 13th Division headquarters. Any skittish birds scattered to the winds in fright, and the happy splashing of the koi in the pond ceased. A correction—all was not well in the Gotei 13, particularly in the office of one Ukitake Jyuushirou.

Sunlight streamed in from the open windows. Fresh air was usually beneficial to Ukitake’s irritated lungs, but that—that hideous concoction—was most certainly not. Ukitake took a hesitant step backwards, intent on taking refuge behind his solid wooden desk. He knew from experience that it was best to have sturdy obstacles between oneself and a frustrated Unohana Retsu—especially one whose patience was stretched as precariously thin as it currently was. After a long history with the captain of the 4th Division, Ukitake understood only too well the running joke among her subordinates concerning Unohana’s eerily calm smile. One deceptively cheerful look from Unohana, and even the bravest shinigami of the 11th Division quailed in fear. She was adamantly and fiercely protective of her charges in the medical department and took her duties seriously. So Ukitake knew that smile spelled bad news.

“U-unohana,” Ukitake stuttered, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. “Please. . .please, let’s be reasonable! We can discuss this rationally. . .like—like adults!”

He retreated backwards another step—oh-so-adult-like, Ukitake thought. He would have smiled at the irony, had Unohana not simply kept advancing, eerily silent. Her brows furrowed dangerously.

A nervous smile snapped in place on Ukitake’s features as he threw up his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture of self-defense.

Once his foot knocked against the leg of his desk chair, Ukitake noted that he had finally reached the security of the desk. However, a sudden realization made him scan the room in a fervent panic. I’ve run out of room! Even though Ukitake was positioned securely behind the huge desk, Unohana merely kept advancing until she could carefully place the glass of frothing liquid on the desk and firmly plant her hands on the desk’s surface. She locked eyes with Ukitake, and those icy blues chilled him to the core.

No escape, no way out! I’m trapped! Ukitake glanced toward an open window, formulating a desperate plan in his mind. Maybe, if I can just. . .

But Unohana was always one step ahead. Her gaze slid smoothly to the same window and then returned to fix Ukitake once again. She cocked one eyebrow, as if in disbelief at such a ridiculous scheme. Ukitake’s own eyebrow twitched momentarily. Is she reading my mind?!

Grinning sheepishly as long, white bangs fell in his eyes, Ukitake abandoned his idea and sought reason instead.

“It was worth a try, n-ne, Uno. . .hana. . .?” Ukitake’s voice trailed off, resulting in more of a plaintive question than a statement, as he realized that Unohana was obviously not amused.

“I’m in no mood, Ukitake-taichou,” Unohana said coolly, grinding out the last syllables. Ukitake flinched at the formality. Oh, boy.

“You need to drink this immediately. We can’t risk the worsening of your illness if you inhaled as much dust and debris as I think you did, considering you rushed into a flaming building to save some of those people,” Unohana lightly chided, much like somebody’s mother would. “But I do have other patients, you know—it’s not just you. The aid station is nearly at full capacity after the malfunction yesterday,” she continued, rather sternly.

Ukitake looked away, suddenly feeling guilty. Some of his own subordinates were checked into the 4th Division’s facilities, ones whom he had been planning to visit later. . .

Seeing the change in the other captain, Unohana sighed lightly. Once she lowered her defenses, her weariness was nearly tangible, and it pained Ukitake to see her so. His resilience wavered, his eyes flicking back and forth between Unohana’s drawn face and the glass of sloshing doom sitting innocently on his desk.

Taking a deep breath, Ukitake closed his eyes and relented, saying, “Alright, I’ll do it.”

Now, even had his eyes been open, Ukitake still probably would have missed what happened next. Unohana knew from personal experience how utterly repulsive this certain brew was to the human palette, and she doubted that Ukitake—or anybody else, for that matter—would be able to force himself to finish drinking the concoction once it had touched his tongue, and he knew what it really tasted like. Let’s just say it certainly lives up to its appearance.

Therefore, Unohana wasted no time. She seized the glass, put a slight shunpo step to good use, and with a wry, “Bottoms up,” she was forcibly administering the liquid before Ukitake could say Shirou-chan. (see a/n)

Once the entire thick, gruesome draught had been poured down Ukitake’s unwilling throat, Unohana stepped back to assess the damage. Ukitake stood in shock when his senses returned to his control and the world was once again right-side up. All of a sudden, however, his face contorted rather comically, and he clamped his hands over his mouth to avoid letting that concoction make a reappearance. He gulped and swallowed, dumped a nearby pitcher of water down his throat, tried futilely to scrub the taste from his tongue, and then slid down to the floor, where he sat in a twitching heap, defeated.

Unohana was of no help, as from some combination of stress and exhaustion, concern for her dear friend and genuine amusement at his actions, she lost all pretense of medical decorum and collapsed in helpless fits of laughter. Ukitake, when he finally overcame the medicine’s effects, could do nothing but follow her to the depths of hilarity.

Unohana stole a quick glance at Ukitake, who happened to be looking back at her, a contented smile gracing his lips.

“At least there’s only one dose, ne?” Unohana said quietly, her eyes sparkling. Ukitake’s nod in reply was vigorous, to say the least. “Well,” she continued, “keep well-hydrated today and tonight, and let me know in the morning if there’s any improvement.”

“Hai, hai, okaasan,” Ukitake answered teasingly.

And that was all it took to send the two of them back over the edge, laughing like they hadn’t done for a long time. After several minutes, they both lay there breathless and with their haori in disarray, faces slightly flushed from all the laughing, sprawled out across Ukitake’s office floor.

And that was when Byakuya walked in.

And promptly walked out.

Try as they might, that incident took a lot of explaining. And Shunsui never let them hear the end of it.

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a/n: Or please not the pants, too! Ahaha. . .gomen, Ukitake-san. Both of these jokes stem from the omake.