Chapter Text
To say Izuru was unhappy would be an understatement. It was almost insulting. He survived the painful betrayal of his previous captain (and wasn’t that a can full of worms). He led his squad, as was fitting for a lieutenant, in the absence of a captain. He fought admirably in the Winter War against the betrayers. And how was he rewarded? With some exiled, world of the living, half hollow fop he didn’t even know. Apparently, this new captain, Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi, or Rose as he liked to be called, used to be captain of the 3rd a century or so ago. It had only been a couple of days since his re-installment, but Izuru was less than impressed.
The division barracks were now filled with all sorts of things he’d never seen before, all brought over from Karakura Town. The man had a fascination with music that just wouldn’t quit. Izuru could swear that every music playing device from the last century had made its way into the barracks. Gramophones, records, 8-tracks, cassettes, CDs, MP3 players, you name it. He found himself both impressed and put out that he COULD name it all after just a few days.
Rose had the audacity to turn a spare room into what seemed to be a display area. Equipment covered a significant amount of floor space and a whole wall was covered in hanging guitars of every conceivable style. Izuru still remembered the day they moved all of that crazy stuff in. Trip after trip was made to carry the heavy speakers, apparently delicate instruments, and even an enormous piano. The most prized instrument, however, did not belong in the conservatory. The acoustic guitar with a mother-of-pearl inlay across the back and up the neck was kept on a stand right next to his captain’s desk, ready at a moment’s notice.
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Most of the squad was enjoying the new situation. With all of the fancy equipment, there was almost always playing somewhere in the barracks. The third was nearly as noisy as the 11th these days, although the music was far preferable to the sounds of fighting. Izuru knew he was being stubborn, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit out loud that he enjoyed the change. The once solemn division had some life in it again and he enjoyed seeing his comrades smiling.
In the weeks since Rose became captain, Izuru had learned many things. First off, that wall of guitars wasn’t just for display. More than once, he had walked in to find his captain fiddling with one or another. Sometimes plucking quietly on the strings, or otherwise plugging them into various speakers and/or pedalboards to play. No matter the volume, the visord would lose himself to the music, closing his eyes and blocking out the outside world. Izuru had learned that he needed to knock quite loudly to announce his presence before walking in.
He learned that it wasn’t Rose’s idea to learn to play the piano. No thought had really been given to the topic when he and the others were lugging the instrument in, other than it was an unnecessary pain. Mr. I’m-All-About-My-Guitars certainly didn’t seem to need the thing. It wasn’t until their captain started training with them that he noticed the connection. When Kinshara went into shikai, Izuru could hear the faint sounds of piano keys being played. Every time the zanpakto whipped through the air, the humming of piano strings could be heard in the midst of a skirmish. During afternoon tea one day, Rose casually mentioned that it was at Kinshara’s insistence that he learned to play. To hear his captain speak of his zanpakto spirit so freely around him was surprising. It wasn’t some statement about its statistics or abilities, but something personal, and once he got over the shock, he was pleased that the other man felt comfortable enough with him to share such a detail.
He also learned that his captain’s case of resting bitch face wasn’t as permanent as he thought. One afternoon, the two of them had been working together quietly on their own paperwork at their respective desks. Well, not quietly; the room was never quiet these days. They simply weren’t speaking while some orchestral piece played in the background. Izuru hadn’t been paying much attention while he worked until he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to see Rose sitting back with his eyes closed, arms waving out in front of him to conduct an invisible orchestra. Confused, he watched the other man’s face move with expression he hadn’t witnessed much of up to that point. Soft concern, peace, trepidation, anger, sadness, and joy all made their way across his visage in a matter of minutes as he gesticulated wildly along to the music. The track ended and Izuru sat, utterly transfixed after beholding such a show. The raw emotion had taken him completely off guard, especially coming from the normally dry captain. And it was so honest. There was nothing pretentious, or misguiding, or manipulative about what Rose was doing, and witnessing such a personal display struck a chord in Izuru that he hadn’t expected. Amethyst eyes opened and a single tear slipped down his right cheek. “Stravinsky’s Firebird. Such a gorgeous piece. Such passion.”
His captain took a deep breath, dabbed at his cheek, and went back to work. Izuru said nothing.
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Izuru felt conflicted. This new captain was different. Sure he was sarcastic and had a dry sense of humor, but it was easy to understand his meaning. He didn’t express much positive emotion during day-to-day interactions, but he didn’t have a perpetual smile that disguised alternative thoughts. He was forthcoming and honest and his music brought those traits forward even more. It was becoming more difficult by the day for Izuru to hold onto his initial bitterness, drawn in as he was by Rose’s authenticity.
These days, it wasn’t uncommon for Izuru to save the bulk of his paperwork for the end of the workday (and perhaps take a little longer than necessary to complete it). Rose usually stayed after hours to play in his music room, and the lieutenant had come to enjoy listening to the different styles from different eras drifting down the hall. But lately, Rose had taken to staying in the main office and playing on the beautiful guitar he kept by his desk.
The music itself was always soothing to listen to, whether Rose was playing a technical, classical piece, strumming something gentle, or repeatedly plucking away at something new he was writing. Izuru carefully tried to not make it too obvious how closely he listening, but he found himself so engrossed sometimes that he stopped working entirely. He would catch himself staring blankly at his desk, hands resting on his papers, brush in hand. Thankfully, Rose never seemed to notice, as engrossed as he was in his own activity. The lieutenant was able to brush his embarrassment quietly aside and get back to work, his superior none the wiser.
Eventually, Izuru’s focus shifted again, but this time it shifted to the musician rather than the music itself. He found himself carefully watching the long fingers dance skillfully over the frets, the wavy, blond hair as Rose shook it from his face. His favorite thing to watch was the variety of emotions that always flowed across his face. They never failed to fascinate him and he found himself risking more and more time in order to feed that fascination.
He risked too much. It finally happened. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring, watching Rose work his way through a beautiful, newly written piece. There was the softest smile of contentment on the captain’s face when the song came to a conclusion and he opened his eyes to look directly into Izuru’s. “Do you like it?”