[Fanfiction] - Byakuya & Shuuhei - Truth and Justice
Yup, two fics on one night. I'm on fire. :p In contrast to the last one, this is not sappy. At all. I also spent a long time freaking out over how I wrote Byakuya, so feedback there is appreciated. Apparently he put a lot of Wisdom on his cereal on the morning of this fic.
...if I sound insane, it's because I'm revising for exams and it's driving me stir crazy.
Anyway, I love the idea of Byakuya/Shuuhei. I may be the only one. That's ok. Because this was supposed to be shippy, but it ended up being predominantly introspective. There's some shippiness, but only if you tilt your head and squint a little. The fact that I couldn't make this shippier probably lends a lot of weight to the argument Byakuya/Shuuhei is never going to work, but I like the idea. If I had the time and the inclination I'd write an epic Renji/Byakuya/Shuuhei fic.
I have no idea where to pimp Bleach fic that isn't slashy porn.
Title: Truth and Justic
Fandom: Bleach
Genre: Gen (with some small, small amounts of shippiness if you want them to be there. WHICH I DO. :p)
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Byakuya and Shuuhei
Wordcount: 1967
Warnings: Introspection, angst.
Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, I would have been arrested for polygamy by now.
Notes: The titles/names/pretty much everything about this fic caused me to 'wig', in manner of Willow back in S1 of BtVS, so feedback is appreciated.
Summary: Shuuhei has an enlightening chat with Byakuya.
Shuuhei had always loved the scent of the evening. It wasn’t a perfume as such, not as distinctive as the fragrance of the sakura blossoms, or the scent Matsumoto liked to wear, but a subtle, peaceful mix of the cool night breeze and the green freshness of the gardens. He leant against the balcony rail, staring into the distance. He just wanted to be still for a moment. Still and calm amidst the frenetic rush of activity that had engulfed them.
He had too many strings to hold, left alone in charge of a division that was mired in uncertainty and grief. They weren’t rudderless, not quite, but there were holes in the sails and the planks were leaking. He could feel himself tilting, feel the boards shifting beneath his feet as the waves tried to toss him into the air, but he had nothing to hold on too. His flailing fingers found only air as he tried to stand tall, tried to take command, tried to live up to the expectations of a man who never was.
He sighed.
How is the path to the least bloodshed now, Taichou?
Taichou. He had to stop thinking of him like that.
There was a rustle from somewhere behind him and he realised he was not alone. He turned slowly, fighting the urge to instinctively reach for his zankuputo. What had the last few days done to him, that even in Seireitei he sought the hilt of his weapon as reassurance?
Byakuya Kuchiki emerged from the shadows like a wraith, silent and graceful. He was as immaculate as ever, no hint of the grievous injury he had suffered showing in his posture.
‘Good evening,’ he said quietly. Remarkable, how imperious he could sound even when being cordial. ‘I did not realise anyone else was here.’ It wasn’t quite an apology. Shuuhei shrugged.
‘I was just leaving,’ he lied. He was loath to return to his tiny room, to the claustrophobia and the nightmares that seemed to stalk him when he was anywhere but beneath the night sky. To the voice whispering in his head, all sweet lies and honeyed promises that were just unconvincing enough to seem like truth. But he didn’t particularly want to remain here either, in the company of one of the least-comforting people in all of Seireitei.
Byakuya joined him against the rail. The moonlight deepened the shadows beneath his eyes.
‘Please do not feel obligated to leave on my account,’ he murmured. ‘I doubt you would find my company particularly obtrusive.’
Shuuhei glanced across sharply, wondering if he’d imagined the note of wry humour in Byakuya’s voice. As always, Byakuya’s face showed nothing of his thoughts. Shuuhei wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to live like that. To wear a mask so perfect it melded with your face, smooth and impersonal. To be in control, even in defeat.
They lapsed into silence, and while it wasn’t precisely comfortable, Shuuhei found his thoughts skipping off in all directions. The anxiety that had been gnawing at his belly all day multiplied, sinking fangs into his throat and reaching up to squeeze at his windpipe. He sighed heavily.
‘You seem troubled, Hisagi-fukutaichou,’ Byakuya observed. Shuuhei shrugged.
‘I’m…just tired, Kuchiki-taichou,’ Byakuya’s lips twisted into a humourless smile.
‘I think we are all tired.’ Shuuhei nodded. He hesitated, on the cusp of asking the question that had plagued him for so many sleepless hours. ‘Taichou,’ he began. Byakuya turned to look at him.
‘Yes?’
‘Why?’ he asked. Byakuya stilled. For a moment, Shuuhei thought he wouldn’t answer.
‘You knew him better than I,’ Byakuya told him neutrally.
‘I thought…’ Shuuhei begun. Of all the people to speak to this about. It couldn’t have been gentle, knowing Ukitake-taichou, who always had a soft smile and the right words. It couldn’t have been Renji, who would have listened and then run a hand through his crimson hair and suggested they have a drink. It couldn’t have been Kira, who might have been able to begin to understand. It had to be Byakuya Kuchiki. Byakuya Kuchiki with his hard eyes and willowy beauty. Byakuya Kuchiki who would break before he bent. Byakuya Kuchiki who had never been unsure of anything.
‘I thought I knew him,’ he began again. ‘I always…he taught me so much. He showed me a way of living, a way I believed in. I don’t understand…I don’t know…’ he shook his head, furious at his own ineloquence. ‘I don’t see how…’
‘How he could betray his own convictions?’ Shuuhei ran a distracted hand through his hair, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on the stone rail.
‘No…yes…not quite. I don’t see how…he believed. I know he believed. And I believe as well, so I don’t know why…’
Why I didn’t follow him. Why he didn’t ask me too. Whether I would have followed him, had he asked me too.
‘Do you wish you had followed Tosen, Aizen and Gin, Hisagi Shuuhei?’ Byakuya’s words echoed his thoughts, and he understood with sudden horror that he had no answer. Did he wish he had? No. Yes. Maybe. He realised too late that his silence spoke volumes.
There was a slight hiss as Byakuya unsheathed senbonzakura. Shuuhei froze as the blade arced up to come to rest against his collarbone, the tip pressing lightly against his throat. He swallowed.
‘Kuchiki-Taichou…’ he began. Byakuya raised a hand.
‘Kneel,’ he said, his tone brooking no argument. Shuuhei sank slowly to his knees, the blade remaining at his throat. One flick of Byakuya’s wrist and his blood would whet the appetite of the hungry stones he knelt on. Byakuya looked down at him, and he wondered whether he should be afraid.
‘Did you believe the philosophies of Kaname Tosen? That violence is to be avoided? That the path of least bloodshed is the path to justice?’ Byakuya asked. His face was half obscured by shadows, but the light of the moon caught in the kenseikan in his hair.
‘Yes,’ Shuuhei answered. It was all he could do to keep his voice from shaking. The blade stayed steady at his throat.
‘Do you believe them still?’
‘Yes.’ For what else could he answer? He had tried to tear the ideologies out of his heart, had lain awake for hours trying to yank apart the threats only to find them more tangled than ever.
‘And you believe that Tosen himself was genuine when he taught you of his way of life? That he would not betray his own ideals?’
‘Yes,’ Shuuhei answered again.
‘Then you believe that in betraying us, Tosen knew something that you do not? Something to drive him to follow Aizen?’
‘Yes…no…perhaps…’ Shuuhei floundered for an instant. Byakuya’s face was as impassive as ever. His eyes were as cold and unfeeling as the iron against Shuuhei’s bare throat.
‘Then you believe that Tosen was justified? That the assault on Hinamori-fukutaichou, the death of the members of the Chamber of 46, the almost-execution of Kuchiki Rukia…you believe that all of this was part of Tosen’s pursuit of the path of least bloodshed? That he has done what is right?’
‘Of course not!’ Shuuhei exclaimed.
‘Yet you believe Tosen might have had a reason,’ Byakuya continued relentlessly. ‘Tell me, Hisagi-fukutaichou. If Tosen were to tell you he had an explanation, were to ask you to join him, to follow him on his path of least bloodshed, would you do so? If he told you there was a greater good, something that none of us fumbling, blind Captains of the Gotei 13 could comprehend, would you believe him?’
‘I…’ Shuuhei began. Senbonzakura kissed his throat.
‘Because, Shuuhei Hisagi, if you are as much a traitor in your heart as your former commanding officer, I ask you to give me one reason I should not strike you down where you kneel before me.’ There was no doubt in Shuuhei’s mind that Byakuya would do it. There was no mercy in those eyes.
‘I am no traitor,’ he said softly. Perhaps rage would have been more convincing, but he could summon only the faintest echoes of it. He’d exhausted his capacity for anger. For fear. He was just tired, now. Tired and worn out.
‘Then if Tosen stood before us now, you would strike him?’ Byakuya asked. Shuuhei reached for the lie, but his tongue found truth instead.
‘No.’ He confessed quietly. Byakuya’s expression didn’t change. ‘No,’ he continued. ‘I would not strike him down, but I would not stop you from doing so.’
Byakuya let the sword fall. For a moment, Shuuhei thought he could see something in that handsome, inscrutable face, but then it was gone and Byakuya was as unreachable as the distant moon once more.
‘You are honest,’ Byakuya observed. ‘Even with a blade at your throat.’
‘I think you would have known if I’d lied.’
Byakuya gazed out over the gardens for a moment.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I would have known.’ Shuuhei glanced across at him. He knew Byakuya only through Renji’s stories, through drunken railing and grudging, sober respect. Here, under the cover of the night sky, he suspected there was a little more Byakuya and a little less Kuchiki in those tired eyes.
‘How?’ he asked, half regretting the question as soon as he asked it. ‘How could he do it?’ Byakuya sighed gently.
‘Sometimes the noblest ideals can lead us astray.’ Shuuhei knew that he was thinking about Rukia, about Rukia with her light step and ebony hair, Rukia and the ryoka boy with his angry eyes and ferocious convictions. Byakuya looked exhausted. Exhausted and alone. Shuuhei wondered what it was like, going home to an empty mansion, to the bowing and scraping of dozens of quiet servants who knew about every detail of his life but nothing about who he was. Going home to bare corridors and silence.
‘But if he believed, and I believe…’ Shuuhei couldn’t let it go. Or it couldn’t let him go. He wasn’t sure which.
‘Then you believe. And that is all. Decide, Hisagi. Did you follow Tosen, or did you follow the path he once purported to walk?’
Shuuhei didn’t respond. But then, he knew Byakuya had not expected an answer. There was answer enough in the serene evening and the soul-crushing weariness wrapped around his heart. Byakuya sheathed the sword, and the snick as it settled in place sounded like the click as a door shut and locked. Shuuhei rose.
‘I will leave you in peace,’ Byakuya told him softly. The night breeze caught the ends of his scarf as he walked away.
‘Kuchiki-taichou!’ Shuuhei called. Byakuya turned and arched an eyebrow. Shuuhei looked at his feet, praying the night would hide his flush.
‘I think Renji is fortunate to have you as his Captain,’ he said.
Byakuya blinked.
‘I…’ he tilted his head, one hand going absently to rest against the spot where Shuuhei knew Gin’s sword had pierced him. ‘I thank you for your words.’ It came out slightly stilted. Shuuhei knew it wasn’t what he wanted to say, but Shuuhei understood, much better now, that what Byakuya wanted weighed little on what Byakuya did. Byakuya hesitated for a moment longer.’
‘You might do well to consider, Hisagi-fukutaichou, whether Tosen had reasons other than your best interests in mind when he taught you to fear the weapon you wield.’
This time, as he walked away, Shuuhei did not call him back. But long after he had vanished, when there was nobody but the stars to hear, he whispered his own thankyou.
And Byakuya, alone in his silent mansion, blew on his tea to cool it and watched the steam unfurl in the air as he waited for the morning.
Thoughts?
* I wanted, in this fic, to go for a different version of Byakuya than the one I usually write. I tend to like RenBya because I like to see Byakuya a bit out of control, a bit unsure of himself. Here, I wanted to try and capture a different sort of Byakuya - very calm, very controlled, almost 'wise', but lonely. I think both Shuuhei and Byakuya are very lonely. Anyway, I don't know how well it worked.
** Does anyone other than me like this pairing? Anyone? :p
...if I sound insane, it's because I'm revising for exams and it's driving me stir crazy.
Anyway, I love the idea of Byakuya/Shuuhei. I may be the only one. That's ok. Because this was supposed to be shippy, but it ended up being predominantly introspective. There's some shippiness, but only if you tilt your head and squint a little. The fact that I couldn't make this shippier probably lends a lot of weight to the argument Byakuya/Shuuhei is never going to work, but I like the idea. If I had the time and the inclination I'd write an epic Renji/Byakuya/Shuuhei fic.
I have no idea where to pimp Bleach fic that isn't slashy porn.
Title: Truth and Justic
Fandom: Bleach
Genre: Gen (with some small, small amounts of shippiness if you want them to be there. WHICH I DO. :p)
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Byakuya and Shuuhei
Wordcount: 1967
Warnings: Introspection, angst.
Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, I would have been arrested for polygamy by now.
Notes: The titles/names/pretty much everything about this fic caused me to 'wig', in manner of Willow back in S1 of BtVS, so feedback is appreciated.
Summary: Shuuhei has an enlightening chat with Byakuya.
Shuuhei had always loved the scent of the evening. It wasn’t a perfume as such, not as distinctive as the fragrance of the sakura blossoms, or the scent Matsumoto liked to wear, but a subtle, peaceful mix of the cool night breeze and the green freshness of the gardens. He leant against the balcony rail, staring into the distance. He just wanted to be still for a moment. Still and calm amidst the frenetic rush of activity that had engulfed them.
He had too many strings to hold, left alone in charge of a division that was mired in uncertainty and grief. They weren’t rudderless, not quite, but there were holes in the sails and the planks were leaking. He could feel himself tilting, feel the boards shifting beneath his feet as the waves tried to toss him into the air, but he had nothing to hold on too. His flailing fingers found only air as he tried to stand tall, tried to take command, tried to live up to the expectations of a man who never was.
He sighed.
How is the path to the least bloodshed now, Taichou?
Taichou. He had to stop thinking of him like that.
There was a rustle from somewhere behind him and he realised he was not alone. He turned slowly, fighting the urge to instinctively reach for his zankuputo. What had the last few days done to him, that even in Seireitei he sought the hilt of his weapon as reassurance?
Byakuya Kuchiki emerged from the shadows like a wraith, silent and graceful. He was as immaculate as ever, no hint of the grievous injury he had suffered showing in his posture.
‘Good evening,’ he said quietly. Remarkable, how imperious he could sound even when being cordial. ‘I did not realise anyone else was here.’ It wasn’t quite an apology. Shuuhei shrugged.
‘I was just leaving,’ he lied. He was loath to return to his tiny room, to the claustrophobia and the nightmares that seemed to stalk him when he was anywhere but beneath the night sky. To the voice whispering in his head, all sweet lies and honeyed promises that were just unconvincing enough to seem like truth. But he didn’t particularly want to remain here either, in the company of one of the least-comforting people in all of Seireitei.
Byakuya joined him against the rail. The moonlight deepened the shadows beneath his eyes.
‘Please do not feel obligated to leave on my account,’ he murmured. ‘I doubt you would find my company particularly obtrusive.’
Shuuhei glanced across sharply, wondering if he’d imagined the note of wry humour in Byakuya’s voice. As always, Byakuya’s face showed nothing of his thoughts. Shuuhei wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to live like that. To wear a mask so perfect it melded with your face, smooth and impersonal. To be in control, even in defeat.
They lapsed into silence, and while it wasn’t precisely comfortable, Shuuhei found his thoughts skipping off in all directions. The anxiety that had been gnawing at his belly all day multiplied, sinking fangs into his throat and reaching up to squeeze at his windpipe. He sighed heavily.
‘You seem troubled, Hisagi-fukutaichou,’ Byakuya observed. Shuuhei shrugged.
‘I’m…just tired, Kuchiki-taichou,’ Byakuya’s lips twisted into a humourless smile.
‘I think we are all tired.’ Shuuhei nodded. He hesitated, on the cusp of asking the question that had plagued him for so many sleepless hours. ‘Taichou,’ he began. Byakuya turned to look at him.
‘Yes?’
‘Why?’ he asked. Byakuya stilled. For a moment, Shuuhei thought he wouldn’t answer.
‘You knew him better than I,’ Byakuya told him neutrally.
‘I thought…’ Shuuhei begun. Of all the people to speak to this about. It couldn’t have been gentle, knowing Ukitake-taichou, who always had a soft smile and the right words. It couldn’t have been Renji, who would have listened and then run a hand through his crimson hair and suggested they have a drink. It couldn’t have been Kira, who might have been able to begin to understand. It had to be Byakuya Kuchiki. Byakuya Kuchiki with his hard eyes and willowy beauty. Byakuya Kuchiki who would break before he bent. Byakuya Kuchiki who had never been unsure of anything.
‘I thought I knew him,’ he began again. ‘I always…he taught me so much. He showed me a way of living, a way I believed in. I don’t understand…I don’t know…’ he shook his head, furious at his own ineloquence. ‘I don’t see how…’
‘How he could betray his own convictions?’ Shuuhei ran a distracted hand through his hair, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on the stone rail.
‘No…yes…not quite. I don’t see how…he believed. I know he believed. And I believe as well, so I don’t know why…’
Why I didn’t follow him. Why he didn’t ask me too. Whether I would have followed him, had he asked me too.
‘Do you wish you had followed Tosen, Aizen and Gin, Hisagi Shuuhei?’ Byakuya’s words echoed his thoughts, and he understood with sudden horror that he had no answer. Did he wish he had? No. Yes. Maybe. He realised too late that his silence spoke volumes.
There was a slight hiss as Byakuya unsheathed senbonzakura. Shuuhei froze as the blade arced up to come to rest against his collarbone, the tip pressing lightly against his throat. He swallowed.
‘Kuchiki-Taichou…’ he began. Byakuya raised a hand.
‘Kneel,’ he said, his tone brooking no argument. Shuuhei sank slowly to his knees, the blade remaining at his throat. One flick of Byakuya’s wrist and his blood would whet the appetite of the hungry stones he knelt on. Byakuya looked down at him, and he wondered whether he should be afraid.
‘Did you believe the philosophies of Kaname Tosen? That violence is to be avoided? That the path of least bloodshed is the path to justice?’ Byakuya asked. His face was half obscured by shadows, but the light of the moon caught in the kenseikan in his hair.
‘Yes,’ Shuuhei answered. It was all he could do to keep his voice from shaking. The blade stayed steady at his throat.
‘Do you believe them still?’
‘Yes.’ For what else could he answer? He had tried to tear the ideologies out of his heart, had lain awake for hours trying to yank apart the threats only to find them more tangled than ever.
‘And you believe that Tosen himself was genuine when he taught you of his way of life? That he would not betray his own ideals?’
‘Yes,’ Shuuhei answered again.
‘Then you believe that in betraying us, Tosen knew something that you do not? Something to drive him to follow Aizen?’
‘Yes…no…perhaps…’ Shuuhei floundered for an instant. Byakuya’s face was as impassive as ever. His eyes were as cold and unfeeling as the iron against Shuuhei’s bare throat.
‘Then you believe that Tosen was justified? That the assault on Hinamori-fukutaichou, the death of the members of the Chamber of 46, the almost-execution of Kuchiki Rukia…you believe that all of this was part of Tosen’s pursuit of the path of least bloodshed? That he has done what is right?’
‘Of course not!’ Shuuhei exclaimed.
‘Yet you believe Tosen might have had a reason,’ Byakuya continued relentlessly. ‘Tell me, Hisagi-fukutaichou. If Tosen were to tell you he had an explanation, were to ask you to join him, to follow him on his path of least bloodshed, would you do so? If he told you there was a greater good, something that none of us fumbling, blind Captains of the Gotei 13 could comprehend, would you believe him?’
‘I…’ Shuuhei began. Senbonzakura kissed his throat.
‘Because, Shuuhei Hisagi, if you are as much a traitor in your heart as your former commanding officer, I ask you to give me one reason I should not strike you down where you kneel before me.’ There was no doubt in Shuuhei’s mind that Byakuya would do it. There was no mercy in those eyes.
‘I am no traitor,’ he said softly. Perhaps rage would have been more convincing, but he could summon only the faintest echoes of it. He’d exhausted his capacity for anger. For fear. He was just tired, now. Tired and worn out.
‘Then if Tosen stood before us now, you would strike him?’ Byakuya asked. Shuuhei reached for the lie, but his tongue found truth instead.
‘No.’ He confessed quietly. Byakuya’s expression didn’t change. ‘No,’ he continued. ‘I would not strike him down, but I would not stop you from doing so.’
Byakuya let the sword fall. For a moment, Shuuhei thought he could see something in that handsome, inscrutable face, but then it was gone and Byakuya was as unreachable as the distant moon once more.
‘You are honest,’ Byakuya observed. ‘Even with a blade at your throat.’
‘I think you would have known if I’d lied.’
Byakuya gazed out over the gardens for a moment.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I would have known.’ Shuuhei glanced across at him. He knew Byakuya only through Renji’s stories, through drunken railing and grudging, sober respect. Here, under the cover of the night sky, he suspected there was a little more Byakuya and a little less Kuchiki in those tired eyes.
‘How?’ he asked, half regretting the question as soon as he asked it. ‘How could he do it?’ Byakuya sighed gently.
‘Sometimes the noblest ideals can lead us astray.’ Shuuhei knew that he was thinking about Rukia, about Rukia with her light step and ebony hair, Rukia and the ryoka boy with his angry eyes and ferocious convictions. Byakuya looked exhausted. Exhausted and alone. Shuuhei wondered what it was like, going home to an empty mansion, to the bowing and scraping of dozens of quiet servants who knew about every detail of his life but nothing about who he was. Going home to bare corridors and silence.
‘But if he believed, and I believe…’ Shuuhei couldn’t let it go. Or it couldn’t let him go. He wasn’t sure which.
‘Then you believe. And that is all. Decide, Hisagi. Did you follow Tosen, or did you follow the path he once purported to walk?’
Shuuhei didn’t respond. But then, he knew Byakuya had not expected an answer. There was answer enough in the serene evening and the soul-crushing weariness wrapped around his heart. Byakuya sheathed the sword, and the snick as it settled in place sounded like the click as a door shut and locked. Shuuhei rose.
‘I will leave you in peace,’ Byakuya told him softly. The night breeze caught the ends of his scarf as he walked away.
‘Kuchiki-taichou!’ Shuuhei called. Byakuya turned and arched an eyebrow. Shuuhei looked at his feet, praying the night would hide his flush.
‘I think Renji is fortunate to have you as his Captain,’ he said.
Byakuya blinked.
‘I…’ he tilted his head, one hand going absently to rest against the spot where Shuuhei knew Gin’s sword had pierced him. ‘I thank you for your words.’ It came out slightly stilted. Shuuhei knew it wasn’t what he wanted to say, but Shuuhei understood, much better now, that what Byakuya wanted weighed little on what Byakuya did. Byakuya hesitated for a moment longer.’
‘You might do well to consider, Hisagi-fukutaichou, whether Tosen had reasons other than your best interests in mind when he taught you to fear the weapon you wield.’
This time, as he walked away, Shuuhei did not call him back. But long after he had vanished, when there was nobody but the stars to hear, he whispered his own thankyou.
And Byakuya, alone in his silent mansion, blew on his tea to cool it and watched the steam unfurl in the air as he waited for the morning.
Thoughts?
* I wanted, in this fic, to go for a different version of Byakuya than the one I usually write. I tend to like RenBya because I like to see Byakuya a bit out of control, a bit unsure of himself. Here, I wanted to try and capture a different sort of Byakuya - very calm, very controlled, almost 'wise', but lonely. I think both Shuuhei and Byakuya are very lonely. Anyway, I don't know how well it worked.
** Does anyone other than me like this pairing? Anyone? :p