Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The vagabond was many things—a murderer, a criminal, a generally dangerous son of a bitch. Above all his many violent attributes was the fact he enjoyed the thrill of a good fight. He had few tethers in life having been alone for all of it. Many would try to whitewash his story with a sympathetic twist, saying that he had committed all his misdeeds in order to survive. They would try to turn him into something he wasn’t in order to afford him grace. But it wasn’t true. He had sought out violence because he enjoyed violence for its own sake. He had been that way ever since he was a child, and almost anyone willing to cross blades with him had met defeat. Only one had ever gotten away.

He fully expected to die living this way. He had come close to death quite a few times. This night was by far the closest brush he’d had since childhood. He dispatched the men who attacked him, even the group of them against one weren’t high enough odds to overcome him. They had attacked all at once, hacking at him so haphazardly that they hit one another more often than they managed to strike him. He had laughed at them and the lack of a challenge they had posed. Still, he had become prone to hubris, and the wounds he had allowed them to inflict had slowed him down. He wondered if maybe their knives had been laced with something because he felt sluggish and heavy.

He had stumbled his way to an alley, delirious with blood loss and exhaustion. It would make a fitting grave for him, he thought, to lay here amongst the other detritus and waste.

Just when the vagabond expected the starless sky to be the last thing he would see, something else entered his field of vision.

He hated the cliche that he had heard men parrot at women of their interest, the one where they asked if they had died and gone to heaven because the woman before them must be an angel. He had always thought that was such a bullshit line.

Now, however, he wondered if that might be the case for him because the woman peering down at him looked angelic.

The woman was backlit, illuminated by the streetlight above them. She had the smoothest skin he had ever seen outside of a model in a magazine. It was a warm, deep brown, unblemished apart from a small mole near her temple and another on her round nose. For a man riddled with scars, especially the one running down his face, it was almost a novelty to see someone so physically unmarred by violence.

The top half of her hair was braided back, but the rest of her dark curls were free, brushing her shoulders in tight, cloudy spirals. In the dark, he couldn’t distinguish the color of her eyes beyond the fact that they were dark, large, and were narrowed in a concerned frown. Her mouth, with a top and bottom lip matched in their fullness, looked tempting, even to a man on his deathbed. He wasn’t sure if she looked soft merely because of his injury impaired vision, or if that was how she always was. She was wearing yellow, a golden shade of the color that only made her seem to glow a bit. The world had become blurry, and she was a glorious haze.

The vagabond knew he didn’t belong anywhere near heaven, but looking at her made him question if there had been some sort of mistake or if he had gotten luck for once in his life.

Her beauty was one thing, but his confusion was increased by the fact that the woman radiated safety. That made him suspicious. Life on the street had taught him that even the prettiest flower could be poisonous. He grabbed the woman’s arm hard enough to make her wince.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said, and he found her voice soothing. It was a smooth alto in tone, and he found himself relaxing at the sound of it. That sense of safety crept in, and he shook his head slightly as if to clear his mind. She misread the gesture as a refusal of her words. “I just want to help you.”

“Why?” He asked, his voice startlingly strong for how injured he was. The signature rasp was there, clouded by confusion and general disorientation.

“Because you’re hurt. Badly hurt at that.”

“So?”

The woman’s mouth pulled into a slight smile, and he was annoyed at his reaction to the minor gesture. His heart beat harder.

“So,” she said, dragging out the vowel, her lips forming a circle. “I live in the apartment building behind us. It would be a bit of a hassle to have someone die outside my window, especially while I’m in the position to help them. I work at the clinic near here. I’m trained for this.”

He could tell she was joking about the first part. He weighed his options, few as they were. “You really want to help me?”

The woman nodded. He asked once more. “Why? You have nothing to gain from this.”

“I guess my gain is just peace of mind. We really don’t have time for this. You need to be looked at. Can you move at all? I’m on the second floor.”

The vagrant struggled to get to his feet, but she was there for him, throwing his arm over her shoulders and bracing a hand on his back so that they could move together. She was careful to avoid disturbing his injuries, but her grasp was steady and sure. His sword, still stained with blood, was grasped in his free hand as it scraped the ground in their wake. It was a struggle to get up the stairs, but they did it somehow. He couldn’t recall much after they passed through the threshold of her home. He remembered opening his eyes every so often to see her there, cleaning his wounds and bandaging them. She had the materials to suture and put that to work on the deepest gash. It hurt, but not enough to rouse him from the odd in-between of consciousness and unconsciousness that he was floating in.

The last thing he thought before everything went dark was that he died without even knowing her name. Names hadn’t meant much to him before, but he wanted to know if she had one before dying.

Only he hadn’t died. He regained consciousness a couple of days later. He was still on the floor, kind of, but the hardness of the floor below had been muted by blankets and cushions underneath his head and body. There was a blanket over him as well, probably to offer modesty because his shirt was long gone. His sword was cleaned and in reach, and he wrapped a hand around it as if to remind himself that he was still there.

The woman who had helped him was in his periphery, rifling around in her tiny kitchen. The living room and kitchen shared a space, and he could see a set of doors, one for a bathroom and another for a bedroom. The whole space was small, but she had done her best to brighten it up. An array of plants hung from the ceiling, and he saw plant beds along the windowsills with herbs and flowers thriving within.

“W-woman.”

His voice was thinner than usual, and he figured disuse had rendered it so. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Woman.”

At this, she turned, and he figured it had to be some sort of cruel joke to see her in the light of day. Her hair was different now, the braids along her crown had been taken out, and the mass of hair was now slicked back and pulled into a low curly puff. She wore simple clothing—red shirt, and black sweatpants. Both were neat and clean albeit they looked threadbare as they hung off her. In one hand she held an apple, and in the other a knife. She set both down and immediately started tending to him.

He could see them then, the divots near her eyes that made them look perpetually sleepy. He wasn’t sure if that’s how she always looked or if caring for him had been that exhausting.

The man watched as she walked over with a glass of water, and he tried to sit up. The pain he felt in response to the movement clued him into the fact that continuing to move was a bad idea, but he pushed himself up anyway. He accepted the glass with a grunt, waving away her attempt to hold it for him.

Now that she was this close, he could discern that her eyes were a rich, coppery brown.

“I’m glad you’re awake. You seemed to be stable, but I guess your body just needed the extra rest,” she said, and then pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “No fever. How do you feel?”

He grunted. “Weak.”

Talking was easier now that he had something to drink, and his senses were much sharper than they had been when he had first seen her.

“I imagined you would be weaker than you appear. You’re already sitting up and everything. You were so badly hurt that I was scared I was going to lose you at first. But you have really pulled through. You must be one of those people who are lucky enough to be a quick healer. You’re gonna need to rest for a whil—”

“Woman,” He interrupted, and she stopped abruptly, peering at him inquisitively. “What’s your name?”

“Zora. And yours?”

“...Zaraki Kenpachi,” he said after a beat of silence. Zora thought that he said his name as if it were the first time he was hearing it himself. “Thanks for your help, Zora.”

“No problem. I couldn’t leave you out there unprotected. This is a dangerous place, y’know?”

“It is, which is why you shouldn’t be taking injured strangers off the street and into your home. You could have gotten hurt, foolish woman.”

They both paused, and for a moment Kenpachi regretted his harsh tone. That regret fled quickly, outweighed by the truth in his words. What she had done was reckless and foolhardy, even if she had saved his life.

“What’s done is done. You’ve made your stance known,” Zora said, and then cleared her throat. “Are you hungry?”

His stomach answered for him, and it drew a small smile to her face. The tension in the room had been shattered and that warm sensation of safety was back.

“I thought you might be. I have just the thing.”

Kenpachi thought that she had brushed aside his warning of danger. She ate next to him on the floor, chatting away as if they were old friends even though he only answered in grunts, if even that. The food she gave him was damn delicious, and he was too busy eating to waste his time conversing. She cleaned up after he finished, checked his bandages while offering pain medicine that he firmly declined.

Only when it was dark did she retreat to her bedroom. When he heard the lock click behind her, Kenpachi was glad. The door wasn’t enough to keep him out, but it was a sign that she was cognizant of the potential danger.

Satisfied, Kenpachi slept.

They kept this pattern up for two more days. At some point she showed up with new clothes for him. It was nothing extravagant, just a shirt, underwear, and sweatpants. She didn’t say anything beyond handing him the bag. When Zora opened her bedroom door the morning of the third day, Zaraki was gone.

-

It was months before she saw him again in the flesh. A week or so after he had left, Zora had discovered an envelope under her door thick with bills ranging from hundreds to ones. There was a rough scrawl on it that only read “Thanks.” She knew it had to come from him—he wrote the way he spoke.

Despite not seeing him, Zaraki’s name was everywhere. It passed from person to person bound in fearful whispers as if they were afraid to summon him by speaking it too loudly. She heard it most often in the clinic, which was busier than ever. Men with injuries ranging from severe to fatal would show up there, with a fearful uttering of Kenpachi’s name often serving as their final words. Zora recognized many of the men as the district’s would-be crime oligarchs. They, who had harmed so many, now got a taste of what they had inflicted. She pitied them as she would anyone in pain, but empathizing was another story.

She hadn’t been sure of what to do with the money at first, especially after learning what had been done to earn it. She had hidden it, wrapping it in plastic and surreptitiously hiding it in the soil of one of her potted plants. Zora avoided even acknowledging it, but dire straits had struck her hard. No matter how hard she worked, or sold stuff on the side, everything was so expensive even just for one person.

Zora found herself at the store, clutching one of the hundred notes she had taken from that stash in her fist which was firmly inside her pocket. She ran her thumb along the edge of the paper as if trying to make sure it was really there.

It was a warm day out, and she was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a thin sleeved shirt to offer some reprieve from the sun. Her hair was piled up in a bun to keep it out of her face. It was that time of year where she considered cutting it all off, but she could never bring herself to follow through with it.

She needed food and medical supplies because she had never replenished what had been used on Zaraki the days he had spent with her. Things were very tight at the clinic due to delays in delivery. Supplies from the other districts had been waylaid by bandits along their routes, and she couldn’t in good faith continue to pocket even bandages at work without feeling immense guilt. The number of patients far outweighed what was available.

Zora stared at her grocery cart, doing mental math, rounding up to account for tax to see if she could make it work. Fresh food always cost more in this district because of transportation costs, and if she had taken her money to the less slightly dangerous district, she would have gotten more bang for her buck. Those savings would have been offset by the cost of transportation, which was not reliable in those parts.

“That will be $107.69,” The cashier said, and Zora’s face went hot. She had brought an extra five dollars in case, but this little bit extra was going to throw her off. Getting fresh food this far away from the Seireitei was always expensive. The costs of transport and the time it took made it a struggle.

“Umm…can we take off the…” She paused to look over what she could get rid of, but a large hand slapping the counter interrupted her thoughts. A large man loomed over her, undetected until he was too close to ignore. Zora’s heart dropped from excitement rather than fear.

“Here,” A rough, familiar voice spoke to the cashier. Zora looked up then, craning her head back to catch sight of those unforgettable green eyes deep set into a face with the long scar running from his brow to his chin. “Keep the change.”

“Zaraki, you don’t have to do this,” She protested, reaching out with the money in her hand. The cashier seemed bored by this interaction, staring at them both through disinterested eyes. The transaction had been completed, and they weren’t going to issue a refund to appease her pride. Zaraki didn’t respond but hoisted her bags in his arms.

“Where’s your ride?” He asked as they stepped outside. She gestured to her rolling cart, and he gave her a blank look.

“I walked. You really think I could maintain a car here? It would be stripped and stolen in a minute. Plus, those things cost money,” Zora said, rubbing her fingers together with a wry smile on her face. She dropped her hand and patted her thigh. “My built-in transportation system works just fine.”

His small eyes narrowed even further as his jaw ticked in annoyance. He walked through the sparse parking lot, over to a truck. It wasn’t new by any means, but it was in decent enough condition. Zora figured that his life had made a drastic turnaround from when she had seen him last, but she knew better than to ask how. She hoisted herself in, grabbing hold of the handle near the door. Zaraki was muttering under his breath, and Zora peered over at him as she strapped herself in.

He started to pull out of the parking spot, and she frowned at him. “Zaraki, you haven’t put on your seatbelt.”

He cut his eyes at her in irritation, but still pulled the seatbelt on. She noted the way it strained against his broad chest, and the discomfort that it likely resulted in. She felt a little bad at insisting, but his safety was more important than feelings. She noted that his arms looked a little red. The sunlight had been brutal recently, and it was likely that he had burned from it. Zora’s skin was more resistant to burning, but she still went out of her way to protect it using lotions if she could get ahold of them or by wearing long sleeves.

“I’m happy to see you. You look good,” she said, and he did. Long gone were the scraps of clothing, instead replaced by much more intact jeans and a sleeveless shirt. He had put on weight since she last saw him, which told her he was at least eating regularly. His muscles had filled out, making him more physically imposing than she remembered. Zaraki had a very structured face with his heavy brow, prominent cheekbones, and defined jawline. His cheeks were less hollow, and he did not look nearly as tired. Even his hair looked healthier, the dark locks falling past his shoulders with a few strands hanging in his face.

“Did you spend the money I gave you already?” Zaraki asked, and Zora’s hands tightened into fists.

“No,” She answered, shaking her head. “I hid it. I was going to use some today because things have been bad, but you showed up instead. I can give it back to you if you want.”

“I don’t want it back. I gave it to you to spend in the first place. I know things have been bad. That’s why I was coming to bring you more, but then I saw you walk into the store and… Doesn’t matter. It’s yours.”

“I don’t feel right, taking money for helping you. That’s not what it was about. I helped you because it was the right thing to do.”

“You don’t make sense, woman. Taking a stranger into your home is fine, but accepting repayment for that is wrong.”

“I have principles. I just don’t want you to think I was in it for some sort of gain.”

Zaraki scoffed. “Don’t worry your pretty, curly head about that. The thought never crossed my mind. I didn’t have shit to give you when you helped me out, but now I do. You saved my life. Doesn’t hurt to make sure you’re okay every now and then, especially as things get worse around here. I’ll check on you when I can.”

Zora swallowed hard at his words trying not to read too much into the kindness of an almost stranger.

“Do you have any family around here? It’s safer in numbers,” Zaraki asked, and Zora gave him a rueful smile.

“Does anyone here have any family, Zaraki? The people who raised me are long gone. I have a couple of mementos and memories to keep me company, but that’s it,” She replied, and the rest of the ride continued in silence.

Most of the “families” were found families, people who decided to band together in order to survive or meet the most basic tenets of companionship. That was the thing about the district they were in. People were oftentimes truly and irrevocably alone. No one chose to live there freely—the 80th district happened to people. It gobbled them up, bones and all.

He didn’t accept her offer for help carrying the bags when they reached her apartment. He hoisted them in his arms, kicking his truck door shut as he followed her up the stairs. The last time he had been there, he was still recovering from his injuries, but now he could see it in all its glory. The building was much older and likely not up to code. The paint in the stairway had peeled so much that it was impossible to discern which color had been there first. He could hear the sound of dripping water but couldn’t tell where it was coming from or going. A couple of the apartments were boarded up, which gave him pause. Zora’s place was startlingly different. The door looked freshly painted, which he wondered if she had done herself, and there was a welcome mat by the door.

When she opened the door, the scent of fresh soil and herbs washed over him right away. Her plants were thriving, and he had to duck his head to avoid hitting them. Zora gave him a sheepish look when she noticed.

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“Please try to make yourself comfortable. I’ll put all of this away.”

While she moved around her kitchen, Kenpachi wandered around her main room. It was not that the room was sizable, but he found himself double checking. Her apartment was only on the second floor, not high enough to be a full deterrent to danger. He could scale the wall with ease, and others would likely be able to do the same. He frowned, realizing that one of the windows was unlatched, and locked it. He opened a drawer just to be nosey, finding that its only contents were a picture and a knife. The knife was sharp, and the blade looked well taken care of. He wondered if it was a memento of some sort.

In a city full of guns, a switchblade offered little protection. To make matters worse, Zora didn’t seem to carry it on her person. It was nowhere near her bedroom. By the time she grabbed it, anyone seeking to do her harm would have easily met their goal. It had to have sentimental value, but he wondered if she could be convinced to arm herself.

“Did you want to stay for dinner?” Zora asked, catching him off-guard from his musings. He stiffened but didn’t react further. Her cooking had been good the last time he was there. In fact, he thought back on it fondly when eating whatever he could get his hands on. Kenpachi watched her to determine whether the question was the result of misplaced politeness, but she appeared earnest.

“Sure.”

The genuine smile Zora gave him in response was so openly happy that he had to look away. That had not been the response he expected even with the conclusion that she truly seemed to want his company. Beautiful as she was, that kind of unbridled joy at his presence was almost too much to stomach. Much to his relief, there wasn’t much talking after that. She spent a little over an hour cooking and walked back into the room with two steaming bowls. The meal itself was simple and balanced, but it was still one of the best things he’d eaten in weeks.

After a while of eating and trying to ignore how close in proximity he was to her, Zora spoke.

“You’ve been making a name for yourself,” She remarked, and he gave a noncommittal shrug.

“If someone approaches me for a fight, they’ll get one. Has it caused any trouble for you?”

“No one really knew we were acquainted. I will say it’s certainly kept me busy at work,” Zora said, and he nodded.

“I bet.”

The next few minutes passed in silence with only stolen glances between them. Zora struggled to find the words to express what she was thinking, but eventually decided to just get it out of her system.

“Hey Zaraki…if you ever need help, you can always come to me, okay? That’s with anything, a place to sleep, a meal, whatever it is. You know where to find me.”

She braced herself for rejection. Kenpachi made it seem as though he was not inclined to be tied down to any place despite his insistence of checking on her. She didn’t want to test his limits, but she also wanted him to be aware that she genuinely wanted to see him again someday.

He nodded, a jerky motion. “Alright.”

“By the way,” Zora said, trailing off as she set her bowl down and stood. Zaraki watched as she walked over to one of her plants, taking the thick, spikey leaf into her hands before breaking it. She sliced the leaf open lengthwise and then rubbed each half together. “Give me your arm.”

He peered at her and at the plant and she sighed. “Zaraki, if I wanted to poison you, I could have done it already. That would do me no good. You’re far too big for me to be able to get rid of the body easily. With this heat, the smell would get bad very quickly.”

Kenpachi fixed her with a slight glare, which she was unmoved by, and reached out his arm. She rubbed the aloe on his arm, making sure to cover all the skin that seemed burned.

“When it’s hot like this, keep your arms covered,” she said, setting the halves down and picking her bowl back up.

Zaraki merely grunted and went back to eating his food. He tried not to think too much about how good her hands had felt rubbing over his skin. He waited until early the next morning to slip out of her apartment, locking the door behind him as he went.

--

After their second run in, Kenpachi made it a point to see her with regularity. Every couple of weeks he would drop by with something she could use. He had affixed additional locks to her front door and mounted a new shelf for her plants. Every time he visited, she would cook for them both and he would hide money for her in the pockets of her only coat or in one of the jars on her counter. In the meantime, he learned about her history and how she had come to be in the district.

One night, while sharing sips out of a bottle of wine he had surprised her with, she told him all about the couple who had taken her in as a child and named her.

“I met them when I was maybe four or five. I had snuck into their home through an open window, and I was trying to steal food from them. They found me, sitting on the floor of their kitchen, crying because I was trying to eat uncooked noodles. They picked me up off the floor, got me fed and cleaned up, and I never left,” Zora said. “They taught me everything, how to cook, make my own clothes, and how to treat wounds. They made sure that I would never be as helpless as I was the day I came to them.”

“I guess we’re both survivors then,” Kenpachi said, and she beamed at the compliment. He looked away from her, hoping that the wine would serve as an excuse for the flush climbing up his face. Despite his size, Zaraki’s alcohol tolerance was never impressive, and the company of a pretty woman only made it worse. He cleared his throat.

“I’ve been alone as long as I can remember, and I’ve been fighting just as long. I enjoy it. There’s a thrill to the challenge that I’ve never experienced in any other circumstance in life. There is nothing like a good fight. It’s as though my body knows exactly what to do, and I succumb fully to my instincts. People judge me for it, and they should. I am not ashamed of what I’ve done to get this far. That’s how I’ve survived in this place. I am thankful for your help that night, even if I still believe it, was a bad idea. I am dangerous, Zora, and if I were any more of a bastard, you would have been in serious trouble.”

They were sitting so close together that she could reach out if she wanted and trace the scar running down his face. She had almost asked about it but refrained. She just worried that it still pained him at times. Scars like that rarely healed in full, leaving their marks on the minds and hearts of the people who bore them.

“I learned a lot from my parents. The most important thing they taught me, however, was how to help those in need,” Zora emphasized. “They didn’t have to take me in. Heaven knows another mouth to feed in this place is often too much, but they did take me in. They gave me a home and a place to thrive. I want to do the same as them.”

“Is that what you’re doing then? Are you implying that this is my home, Zora?” Kenpachi asked, and she shrugged.

“It could be. That’s up to you to decide.”

She had not been sure if her words had been emboldened by the alcohol in her system, but she had meant them.

Kenpachi had stared at her as his expression became conflicted with several emotions flitting across his face. He leaned in despite himself. The moment and the wine had gotten to him. He was caught up in the web of their closeness, the warmth that radiated from her, and the sweet earthy scent she bore. She had offered him a home, and the temptation to rest in the cradle of her gaze propelled him forward in a kiss.

A kiss that was never meant to happen as the unmistakable clamor of a gunshot rang out nearby followed by a rapid succession of others. Instinct overcame desire as Kenpachi almost shoved Zora to the floor, shielding her protectively while he determined the level of danger lurking outside the window. The sound had come from further up the block, but one of her windows was cracked to let in a breeze, and that had made the sound feel so much closer to home.

“It’s gotten worse,” She murmured beneath him. Their noses hovered inches from one another, but the only tension in the air was her fear of imminent danger. Kenpachi couldn’t recall the last time he had been afraid of something. He had not encountered anything that made him fear for his life since he was a child. That was not the case for Zora. He could feel her heart pumping, and there was a tremor in her voice as she spoke. “It didn’t used to be this bad around here, but every day keeps getting worse.”

“Zora,” Zaraki started, but his words fell short. Offering comfort was a skill he did not possess. He got up first, gesturing for her to stay down while he checked to make sure everything was clear. The intimate moment they had almost shared had long passed, and the conversation preceding it had faded.

Zora went to bed with a solemn expression, and Zaraki spent half the night lying awake on her floor, plotting his next steps.

-

Weeks passed since that night, but they had not broached the topic again despite seeing each other on multiple occasions. The moment had been lost, and neither wanted to deal with the potential rejection from rekindling it.

When they were together, walking about the area as she ran errands or if they just wanted to get out of her cramped apartment, Zora couldn’t avoid noticing the way people reacted to him. If Zaraki’s size weren’t enough of a deterrent, the man had presence that made everyone stop in their tracks. Zora had never paid it much mind when it was just the two of them. She had become too close to the man to find him intimidating, but that wasn’t the case for the others around them. People regularly cleared a path for Zaraki, and they often threw fearful looks his way. Bolder men may have jeered at him, but a single look would send them scrambling.

Zora noticed that things began to change for her around the district. It hadn’t taken long for word to spread that she was connected to Kenpachi. No one knew the true depth of that connection was an intimate friendship, but that did not matter. The men who leered at her now treated her with the utmost respect. The grocer wordlessly gave her discounts. Just knowing him had changed her life in little ways. Even the sounds of ceaseless unrest had dampened near where she lived.

Which was why it was a shock when Zora woke up to the sound of someone banging on her door. Fear bubbled up at first as she walked into the main room to see who it could be. It had been a long, long time since someone had tried to break into her home, and she had a lot more to lose now. She reached for the knife in the drawer.

“Zora, it’s me,” Kenpachi said, staying her hand with just his voice. “Open up, woman.”

His voice surprised her because he had just been there within the past week. After pulling on a robe, she opened the door quickly, anxious to see what he needed, but also excited to see him again. That excitement died quickly once she saw him. He was with two younger men, one of whom he was supporting while the other stood off to the side looking worried. She recognized them, they had been new to town and seemed to be in search of trouble.

And, they had found it.

“Zaraki, come in,” Zora said, gesturing for all of them to walk in. She locked the door behind her.

“He needs help. Name is Ikkaku, the fluttery one is Yumichika,” Kenpachi said, but even as he spoke, he casually let the man fall to the floor in a painful heap. Zora gave him a look as she knelt to tend to the man. He was bleeding in a few places, but the dazed look on his face was the most concerning.

“Who did this to him?” She asked, and Zaraki squatted next to her.

“I did.”

Zora gasped as she turned to him so fast that it disrupted her balance. Without missing a beat, he reached out to steady her. “Zaraki! Why?”

“They attacked me first,” He offered up as a defense, but she only frowned even deeper. “Meant to just knock ‘em down one good time, but it didn’t work. Eyelashes said that they really wanted to train with me after they jumped at me. I have to say they put up a decent fight.”

Yumichika perked up at the praise, but Zaraki scowled at him until he deflated once more. Kenpachi knew that they wanted to train and fight with him. He had made a name for himself. The name that he was known by was the name he had given himself, a combination of the shithole of a neighborhood he had grown up in, and a title he deserved but had not yet earned. He would remedy that soon.

Zora huffed out a sigh and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "Why is it always hit first talk later with y’all? Zaraki, be helpful and go grab my kit. It’s under my bed.”

"Alright woman, no need to get bossy."

When in her room, Kenpachi tarried for a moment. Her bedroom was spartan, with only a full-sized bed and a dresser. He reached out a hand to run over the indentation that indicated where she slept. Her bed was still warm from where she had been sleeping peacefully before they arrived. Her room smelled like her, a clean, sweet scent that occupied his mind whenever he was away. He grabbed the kit and walked out.

By the time Kenpachi left and came back, she had Ikkaku leaning against the wall as she examined him. Ikkaku stared back at her blankly.

“H-hey pretty lady,” he slurred, reaching for her hand, and Zora gazed at him in open concern. Kenpachi, however, glared.

“How long ago was the fight?” She asked. “I need to know how long he’s been in this condition.”

“About twenty minutes,” the other young man spoke, and Kenpachi nodded.

“You must have been nearby,” Zora noted as she started to work.

“I was on my way here when they caught me,” he said, and Zora’s concerned gaze slid to him. “I didn’t want to kill them because cleaning up after myself would have made me even later getting here.”

“To see me? Are you hurt too?”

Kenpachi shrugged noncommittally. “No, just wanted to see you. I like your hair like this. It’s pretty.”

He gestured towards the medium sized braids that reached her lower back. A satin scarf was tied across her edges with a neat knot to secure it in place. She had spent half a day completing the style, and his compliment made her smile.

The top she wore to bed was loose with a wide neck. She used her braids to cover the shoulder left bare by the neckline, but Kenpachi caught glimpses of the smooth brown skin underneath. With the smile on her face, Zora looked sweet.

They held one another’s gazes before Ikkaku let out a pained noise that made Zora turn to him once more. Other than the concussion, Ikkaku only suffered a few scrapes and bruises, likely from when he hit the ground after being struck. The worst was a shallow gash on his head that wept blood. Those were easy enough to clean and bandage. So, Zora worked quickly, often shushing her reluctant patient with soothing noises whenever he groaned in pain.

“You’ll be okay. I’m almost done,” She assured him. Ikkaku blinked at her but did not speak anymore. When she finished, she turned to Zaraki.

“Honestly, there’s not more for me to do. He needs to stay awake for a couple more hours, and then we need to wake him up every two hours after that to make sure he isn’t getting worse. In the meantime, are you hungry? I am sure I could throw something together really quick.”

Yumichika perked up at the mention of food, but Zaraki shook his head. Zora would never be satisfied with “throwing” a meal together. She would run herself ragged making them something hearty and filling. He took in the exhausted look on her face and sighed.

“Me and the kid can handle food and keeping him awake. You just go back to sleep, woman. You worked late today, didn’t you?”

Zora nodded and suppressed a yawn. “I’ll at least get you blankets.”

She made Ikkaku comfortable with Yumichika’s assistance. At that time, the uninjured man introduced himself on his own terms and informed her that he and the shaven-headed man had known one another their whole lives. Zaraki settled onto her small couch, sitting upright without even trying to lay down which would have been useless given the lack of space.

Before Zora could leave the room, Zaraki stood and grabbed her hand only to release it as she turned to face him.

“Thank you,” he said, and she smiled up at him, her head tilting back to meet his eye because he stood so close to her.

“Anytime. Get some sleep, big guy.”

“You too. We will take care of him. Don’t worry.”

Yumichika observed this exchange silently. As Kenpachi watched Zora walk away, Yumichika thought he might have seen a flash of longing in the larger man’s eyes. He looked away quickly just as Kenpachi’s gaze snapped to him.

“Boy, you take first watch. Keep him awake, and for fuck’s sake keep him quiet so he doesn’t wake her up. I’m taking a nap.”

“Yes, sir.”

What was left of the night passed quietly for Zora. She couldn’t sleep in late with the knowledge that two extra strangers were in her home, and she needed to check on how her patient was doing. Zora hastily brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face before walking out into the main area. She noted that all three men were still sleeping. Frowning, she checked on Ikkaku, silently worried that they had forgotten to wake him up. Right as she was reaching for the man, his eyes snapped open, startling her so much that she fell back with a gasp. She could hear Kenpachi rouse, the light sleeper that he was.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Get off of me!” Ikkaku demanded, his voice booming.

Zaraki snatched him up quickly with no regard to his injuries. The large man was fully awake and furious.

“Don’t fucking raise your voice at her. She is a lady. She’s the one who woke up in the middle of the damn night, treated your injuries, and patched you up. She’s the only reason you and your friend here didn’t spend your night in a ditch. Do not mistreat her, especially not in front of me or else I will finish what I started last night. Be respectful.”

Zaraki was loud, and Zora realized she hadn’t heard him raise his voice before. It filled her small apartment with palpable anger, and the man Kenpachi held aloft looked nervous.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I just woke up and she was leaning over me. It caught me off-guard,” Ikkaku explained and Kenpachi grunted before letting him fall back to the ground. He turned to Zora, reaching down to pick her up off the floor. She stood with his help, and he looked her over to see if she had been hurt.

“Zaraki, I’m fine,” she reassured him, but that didn’t stop him. His hands brushed over her arms and down her back, and when she seemed okay, he stepped back, bumping into Ikkaku who had barely gotten himself off the floor. The bald man winced.

“It won’t do any good if you make his injuries worse,” Zora chided, but the large man offered no apologies to the hairless man. Kenpachi merely grunted, satisfied that she was unscathed. “Are you okay, Ikkaku?”

She knelt next to him once more, and the shaven man blinked rapidly now that they were at eye level. As Zora tilted his head to examine him, Ikkaku observed her. He took in her face and grinned at the still annoyed Zaraki. It was an abrupt change in attitude, and it put the man on edge.

“Kenpachi, I knew we were right to seek you out. You sure know how to pick ‘em. Your woman is pretty,” Ikkaku said, not noticing Yumichika’s gestures to cease speaking. Kenpachi cupped Zora’s shoulders, pulling her to her feet and away from her now complacent patient.

“Woman, don’t worry about him. With the way he’s running his mouth, he’s probably fine,” Zaraki said completely unimpressed by Ikkaku’s admiration. The other man appeared chastened by his harsh tone.

Zora, however, did not look so sure. “But…”

“He’s going to be alright. We’ve intruded long enough as it is. I’ll get them out of here.”

“Do you want breakfast?” Zora asked. The two younger men perked up, but Zaraki shook his head. “What about leftovers? I still have the stew I made the other night in the freezer. You liked it so much, I wanted to make sure I saved it for you.”

He looked tempted but shook his head again. He would ask her to make it another time. “Not going to let you waste your food on us. Speaking of which, have you been holding up okay? We didn’t talk about that the other day, but you seemed bothered when I got here.”

Zora’s responding shrug and avoidance of his gaze was more revealing than she thought because he frowned. She had been deep in her thoughts during his last visit, and her silence hung over them like a cloud. It had bothered him when he left, and that had been another motivating factor in coming to see her.

Kenpachi opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it when he remembered their captive audience. Ikkaku and Yumichika watched them, soaking in every bit of their interaction. Kenpachi scowled at them. “Go wait by my truck you two. I’ll meet you in a moment.”

Zaraki waited until they were all the way downstairs before turning to her again. Zora’s expression was apprehensive, and he hoped that she took the words he was about to say well. Kenpachi could withstand a lot of things, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to see her looking upset.

“Zora, look at me,” he said, earning her full attention. “I’m going to be away for a while, even longer than normal. I won’t be able to contact you until I am back.”

“Is everything okay?” She asked, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. He placed his over hers and squeezed it affectionately.

“I have something I need to take care of, and I’m taking those two with me if only to keep them occupied. It will take some time, but before I leave, I wanted to make sure you would be okay. So here,” Kenpachi said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving money. Zora’s eyes widened at the wad in his hand, and she shook her head emphatically.

“Nope. No. Absolutely not. Zaraki, I can’t take this. How did you even get this much?” She asked, and he knew she didn’t really want him to answer that question. She knew how, and he knew that she knew. It was something they mutually agreed to leave unspoken.

“Yes, you can. You said it’s been hard for you lately. I’m making it easy. Or is money not the main problem? Someone been bothering you? You know I’ll deal with ‘em, right?”

“No one’s been bothering me. They know better thanks to you. It's just that everything’s going up, including rent. I can’t really keep my head above water even with the extra hours at the clinic, and I’m honestly not sure how much longer we can keep it open. Funding is low. They’ve had to slash my pay a couple of times over the past year,” She admitted.

As she spoke, Zaraki could see it in her expression—the fatigue, the stress. These things lay dormant in her pretty face until acknowledgement brought them forth. The lines by her eyes had never seemed deeper, and he had the urge to reach out and try to smooth them away.

Kenpachi wanted to ask why she had been hiding her distress from him. Part of him wanted to know if it had not been that she was hiding it, but rather that having him around had alleviated some of it for her. He wanted to know that he did that for her, but it wasn’t the time to ask.

“All the more reason for you to have this. Take it, Zora,” he said, and she accepted the cash reluctantly.

“Thank you,” she said, contritely, and he wished he could take the shame out of her voice. He reached over, tilting her face up to look him in the eye with a finger crooked under her chin. His eyes searched hers, finding comfort in the earthy brown hues of her irises. Every time he looked her in the eye, he found new shades that he hadn’t noticed before. The sheen of sadness in her eyes dulled their color. “Zaraki, will you be gone for long?”

“It will be a while. What I’m doing is going to change everything for all of us. When this is over, I’m coming to you. Do you understand?” He asked. He took her hand in his free one and gave it a gentle squeeze. Zora nodded slowly, and his hands moved from hers to cup her face instead as he tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “Will you stay safe until I get back? You can’t take any risks. Don’t do anything unnecessary like bringing a fucking stranger into your house again. Promise me, woman.”

Zora nodded with a small smile, and he dropped his hands. “I promise. Be careful, Zaraki.”

He didn’t respond, instead giving a stiff nod and a final long look, before sweeping out the door. His hands were clenched tight, as if he were trying to keep the sensation of her locked inside his fist.

--

It had been six months.

Zora thought of him every day. The first couple of months, she had managed to maintain a facade of patience. She didn’t check for notes or money slipped under her door. She didn’t wake up in the middle of the night hoping that the bump in the night had been him bumping on the door. That one month, she was fine.

Soon, she found herself staring out of her bedroom window into the alley below, waiting to see if he would manifest there. She prepared his favorites with the hope that he would pop up unexpectedly to share a meal. Even walking home for work, she would look over her shoulder, not just for safety, but hoping that his vehicle would materialize out of the blue, ready to take her home.

Her birthday, which she celebrated as the day that her parents had taken her in, had come and gone. She spent it hoping that he would come back.

The fourth month, she grew numb. She let herself believe that he was never coming back. Zora couldn’t imagine him being dead because no one could have defeated Kenpachi by any fair means. So, instead she let herself believe that he had lied and was never coming back to see her. This thought made her feel guilty. Zaraki had never broken his word, and he would have no reason to do so at this point.

By the time the fifth month began, Zora allowed herself to hope. She did not gaze longingly through the window, but she did stock up on things that he liked just in case he was to pop back in for a visit. She had found peace in waiting, and it was when she found that peace that his return was heralded.

As she suspected it would, the clinic had closed, no longer capable of sustaining itself. Zora stocked up on food and yarn to keep her occupied in the long days she spent inside tending to her plants.

I’m coming were the two words scrawled in his scratchy handwriting on the piece of paper that was slipped under her door. Zora stared at it for a long time, tracing each line with her finger. It came in an envelope branded with the information of the only courier willing to bring notices as far as the 80th. The note was all the warning she had, and all Zora could do was heed it.

First, she grabbed the medical supplies. They were mostly things she was able to snag from the clinic, but some stuff she sourced and bought on her own using the final scraps of the money he had given her. Zaraki came to her door when he needed a place to crash and to heal. She would make sure that she was still able to give him that much.

Zora always did her best to keep a stocked fridge and freezer. She made every bit count, freezing as much as possible to make it last. She rarely let anything go to waste, especially with how expensive things were becoming now. While she had food to spare, Zaraki’s voracious appetite was not to be balked at, and she lamented the fact that she couldn’t make an extra run to the store. He would give her the money back, so that was no concern. The time was the problem, and the fact that she had none left.

Zora hoped that when he came to see her this time, he would be staying.

She let herself look through the window. There was no particular reason why beyond the desire to fulfill an impulse—a feeling telling her to go look. She was just in time to see Zaraki climbing out of a brand-new truck.

Zora bolted out the door, her dress fluttering around her legs as she took the stairs two at a time. Her hair bounced around her head; the curls defined by the twists she had just undone that morning.

Zaraki noticed her by the time she hit the bottom step. The way he smiled at her made her smile back even brighter. If it weren’t for the adrenaline and overall giddiness of seeing him in the flesh once more, Zora probably wouldn’t have thrown herself at him the way she did.

“Zaraki,” Zora murmured in a thick voice. He caught her with one arm around her lower back as she clung to him for a long moment. “You’re back.”

Kenpachi had missed hearing her say his name. She made it sound like a song, and he could listen to her say it all day. He had missed her so much. Her feet hung without the hope of touching the ground. She clutched him, squeezing with force that would have hurt a lesser person while he did not so much as grunt. Her cheek pressed against his, and she thought he might have inhaled deeply to take in her scent.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said, and his arm tightened around her. “I’m so glad you came back. It’s been so long. I was worried.”

“I take it you missed me, woman,” Kenpachi teased, even though he had missed her as well. “I told you I would be back for you.”

She pulled back from the hug, suddenly embarrassed by how she reacted to seeing him again. He set her back on her feet, and she looked anywhere but in his eyes. Zora took him. He looked so good. His hair was down, the longest she had ever seen it, falling down his back in jagged layers and three adjacent, zigzag lines cut into each side of his head with cropped sides. The clothes on his back were of good quality, dark pants and a dark top with an overcoat that was white with distinctive markings. The material on all his clothing was soft and thick. He had no visible injuries that she could discern, but still she inquired.

“Are you okay? Were you hurt?” Zora asked, and he shook his head.

“Not even a scratch. No new scars to show off for you.”

“You say that, like it’s a bad thing,” She teased, and he grinned at her.

“Are you hungry?” She inquired next, and once again Kenpachi shook his head.

“I ate already. Had to, it was a long trip. I’ll eat before heading back out.”

Back out. Zora realized that he was not going to stay.

Her expression grew dismayed, and Zaraki frowned in concern. “What’s wrong, woman?”

“Does that mean you’re going to leave again?” She asked, her arms hanging limply at her sides. She had had the audacity to hope, and now she was being punished for it.

“I wasn’t planning to stay here, Zora,” Zaraki answered, and Zora blinked rapidly to staunch the immediate buildup of tears at those words.

“O-oh. I understand.”

“Now, get your stuff, and we’ll leave. Sooner I get you out of here, the better.”

She paused at that. “What?”

“I told you when I left that I would be back for you,” Zaraki responded impatiently. “Did you need more time to pack? Did you get more stuff since I left?”

“Where are we going?” Zora asked, and for the first time in since they had met, Zaraki’s eyes flashed with irritation, making her frown at him. He sighed.

“I have somewhere much better for us to stay. Are you packed?” He asked, stepping towards the building.

“Packed? I didn’t pack anything,” She admitted, and Kenpachi let out an impatient noise before swinging his eyes towards her.

“I told you I was coming.” He barked with no real force. Even when he was annoyed, he didn’t raise his voice at her.

“I thought you meant to visit like you usually do!”

“No, I’m coming to take you out of here. I told you things were gonna change. How long do you need to get ready?”

There was silence between them, and the irritation in Zaraki’s eyes gave way to something Zora had never seen from him before.

“...Unless you wanted to stay here.”

“I want to go with you.” She answered quickly, too quickly. She spoke as if she was afraid that he was going to take it back. “I just didn’t know what you meant. It’s been so long. I didn’t know to prepare for departure, but if you just give me a minute…”

“Zora,” he said, and she looked at him. She liked the way her name sounded when he said it. The soft syllables rendered his rough voice into a burr that felt almost sweet. “I can help if you need it. We have time now.”

“It’s not much beyond my plants. Maybe by this time tomorrow?”

Kenpachi nodded, and this time he put a hand at her lower back to guide her towards the apartment.

“Let’s get started.”

Kenpachi was as patient as he had ever been helping Zora sort through her belongings. He did not complain as she ran around her small apartment, debating on what she should take and what she could leave. The picture of her guardians, the knife he had found in the drawer, a bracelet that he wondered at the history of, and the plants she couldn’t bear to part with all came along with her.

She had changed out of the dress she wore, to his disappointment, and had changed into something more practical for packing. Her hair was pulled up into a voluminous bun atop her head. He was surprised by how little clothing she owned. He had always thought she dressed nicely, and now he could see that the wardrobe he thought was expansive was just a few pieces that were arranged in a variety of combinations in order to look fresh/different.

“Do we need any food?”

“It’ll take some hours to get there. If you want to bring snacks for the road, that should be fine, but food is fully stocked where we are going,” he told her.

“Okay. I’ll just give away everything else then, unless I’ll need it for when I come back,” she said, muttering the last part to herself. Zora was having a hard time grasping the truth of it all.

“I’m not letting you come back to this hellhole,” Kenpachi interjected, and she seemed sheepish. “You are never looking at this place again.”

“Okay.”

They made their rounds to her few neighbors, giving away food and the plants that she could bear to be parted with. Most of them eyed him with distrust and concern, and Kenpachi wondered what they would have thought of the story of how she had met him.

Like him, they probably would have berated her, told her of the danger and risk she had opened herself to. Though he wouldn’t say it aloud, Zaraki was happy that Zora had ignored the danger, especially now that he could fully repay her for it.

He knew she didn’t belong in a place like this. She was far too bright, too kind, to be forced to fend alone in this desolation. Kenpachi did not believe himself to be capable of sentimentality, and so his defense was as basic as believing that everything he thought of Zora was fact rather than softness. When it came to Zora, there was one irrefutable fact:

Every time Zaraki came close to teetering fully into the darkness, Zora was the little corner of light that kept him grounded.

“I think that’s everything,” she said, looking at the work they had done. A handful of boxes, a trash bag, and seven houseplants were the summation of her life. Looking at all of it together made her feel a touch pathetic, but then she remembered she had far more than some. It was late in the evening, but it had not taken nearly as long as she had guessed it would.

“We can leave now,” Kenpachi said, but Zora seemed unsure.

“Do you want to rest maybe?”

“I’m fine. We’ll make it by morning if we go now,” he said. Zora nodded and he made the first a second trip to load up her things. She followed him with the last plant cradled in her arms. She hesitated at the door, looking back at the home she had known her whole life. The key was on her dining room table. The couch looked pitiful without the beautiful, knitted throw she adorned it with. It was a skeleton of all she had built, the bones picked clean of their meat. Zora grieved a little at the thought of leaving home behind but followed Kenpachi to his car.

Kenpachi stole a look at Zora as he drove. They had been on the road for a couple of hours. She had asked where they were going, and her eyes had widened considerably when he said the Seireitei. Zora hadn’t asked any further questions after that, though he knew she really wanted to.

She was asleep. One of her blankets was pulled up to her chin as she curled against the door. The hand closest to him was exposed, laying open on the seat.

Zaraki’s eyes flitted towards it, back onto the road, and then back again.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. After a moment, he reached out and grabbed her hand in one of his, while steering with the other. Zora shifted and he stiffened, afraid he had roused her. All she did was intertwine her fingers with his. His thumb stroked along the back of her hand, taking in the softness of her skin. Just like the hug she had given him, this contact felt right. He had struggled to keep his composure when she was pressed against him for that brief time.

The fear he had felt when he was uncertain that she wanted to leave with him had only lasted a second, but that flash of uncertainty was eating at him still. Zaraki had joined the Gotei 13 by force, by taking on the one position in the organization that was not appointed. His fight with the former captain had been lackluster, and he claimed his new position before the body had grown cold.

When Zora asked his name when they first met, he had told her a partial lie. Instead of going through the trouble of explaining that he had been nameless up to that point, he made one up on the spot. Zaraki was a reminder of where he was from, and Kenpachi what he would one day become. Unohana had told him years before, when he was just a child, that he was fit to one day have that title, so he had told Zora that was his name even though she was unfamiliar with the significance of it. He thought that, if he could earn the name, he could earn Zora too.

He intertwined their fingers.

The title had been easily won, but Kenpachi worried that Zora’s heart would be different.