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Summary
His love was sleeping, silver hair cascading over the futon like seaweed draped over rocks. Reports and papers were spread out across the tatami mats, and the lantern cast a low glimmer of light. A section of the shoji was open, creating a window and allowing the moonlight to mingle with the soft glow. The whole effect caused his love to look pale, weary even, and Shunsui furrowed his brow. He dropped his waraji by the door and placed his zanpakutō beside them before crossing the room to the sleeping figure. Dropping to his knees he brushed a piece of silver hair out of the man's face and pressed the back of his own hand against the now bare forehead, shoulders relaxing slightly when there was no sign of a fever.
After a long eighteen months of being in the world of the living, Kyōraku Shunsui returns home and more importantly, returns to the one he loves.