[Fanfiction] - Bleach - Flexibility (1/?)
I threatened, I warned, and now it is here. The AU featuring businessman!Byakuya and yoga instructor!Renji. Part the first, with more parts to follow, providing my inspiration does not hightail it out of my mind. I hope at least some of you will enjoy it. There's crack, there're cameos by a variety of secondary characters, and there's Byakuya in tracksuit pants. What more could you want?
Title: Flexibility (1/?)
Fandom: Bleach
Genre: AU/Crack/Romance
Rating: PG-13 (at the moment...*evil grin*)
Pairing: Renji/Byakuya, briefly implied Yumi/Ikkaku, other pairings may be mentioned based on my whims, expect to see left-wing acitivst/editor of political magazine Shuuhei soon if I keep writing this.
Wordcount: 2811
Warnings: CRACK, track pants, Mashiro with a tongue piercing
Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, there'd be a lot more naked men.
Notes: Look, this fic in a bit of a testament to my insanity. Just bear with it. It's not designed to be taken at all seriously.
Summary: A reluctant Byakuya attends a yoga class and gets more than he bargained for.
Byakuya regarded the hall suspiciously through narrowed grey eyes. He fought the urge to turn around and walk straight back the way he had come. Surely, he thought, slightly frantically, as an energetic old lady elbowed her way past him and made a beeline for a large stack of mats, I don’t really need this. His back had started to twinge alarmingly when he ran for more than 5km, and he hadn’t had more than four hours sleep in two weeks, but perhaps aspirin and black coffee were friendlier solution. He hadn’t felt this out of place since his first day of school. Nobody else had arrived to prep class in a helicopter.
However, at his secretary’s vehement insistence, he had grudgingly agreed to try yoga. He had driven himself, in order to remain incognito, had donned exercise clothing usually restricted to use in his private gym, and was in the local community hall. So that made three very uncharacteristic actions in one short evening. Yoruichi, he decided, better be right about the miraculous benefits of yoga.
His cool grey eyes settled on a sign on the noticeboard advertising Saturday morning Tarot Readings with Ravyn Dream, and the urge to cut and run became almost overwhelming. He’d only just stepped through the door. Surely nobody would remark upon it if he walked right back out of it again.
‘Hey, you new?’ A slight woman with vividly dyed green hair had materialised at his elbow.
‘Yes,’ he said, sensing his chances of making a quiet and hasty exit decreasing by the second. She grinned, a silver stud glinting against the pink of her tongue. ‘You’ve picked the right place. Renji - that’s the instructor - Renji’s really awesome. I’ve been to a lot of different places, but he’s really got it, you know.’
‘Mm,’ said Byakuya, fairly sure he didn’t. He knew a sudden pang of longing for his boardroom. For his desk. For his office. For his carefully arranged assortment of tasteful personal effects. For his suits. For almost anywhere that wasn’t a community hall brimming with teenage hippies and remarkably energised grandmothers. For silence, the gentle hum of his laptop, the marble floor of his foyer…he realised his new acquaintance was still chatting away merrily and hauled his attention away from the fond recollection of his leather armchair.
‘…I just moved here, and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to find someone decent - the chick I used to learn from, I thought she was the bomb, you know? But he’s just awesome, I swear the class has doubled since he started teaching…and I don’t think it’s just because he’s, like, the sexiest thing to ever walk the earth. Seriously, a friend came with me last week and I thought she was going to pass out when he walked past her.’
Byakuya made what he hoped was a non-committal noise of polite amusement.
‘So why’d you decide to come? Not for Renji, surely.’ She winked at him, hooking the tongue piercing between her teeth absently. He was so taken-aback it took him a moment to realise she’d asked him a question. He wasn’t accustomed to strangers…teasing him.
‘My…friend,’ he explained coolly. His secretary, actually, but if she hadn’t recognised him already he’d rather keep it that way. ‘Recommended it.’
‘Girlfriend?’ she asked, wide-eyed and innocent. He choked and covered it with a cough. It wasn’t as if he weren’t accustomed to expressions of interest from the opposite sex. From the same sex, on occasion. But…she had a tongue piercing. And her hair was green. Not, Byakuya thought, trying to be fair, that she was unattractive. She was pretty in a pert sort of way, with her lively eyes and constant stream of chatter. But she wasn’t really his type. At all. To the extent he had a type. Which he didn’t. Not really.
He mentally chided himself for the lack of discipline permeating his thought process. He would have to devote some extra time to his meditation. Perhaps the three large mugs of black coffee between 2 and 4pm had been unwise.
‘No,’ he said, glancing round and searching for a way to extricate himself. Rescue came in the unlikely form of another tracksuit-clad grandmother. She appeared to be vibrating with anticipation.
‘He’s coming,’ she announced, peering over the shoulder of Byakuya’s new acquaintance. ‘Get out of the doorway, Mashiro.’ Mashiro rolled her eyes expansively and stuck her tongue out the moment the old lady looked away. She winked at Byakuya.
‘You should go get a mat. Have fun.’ She bounded off to a spot at the front of the room. Byakuya retrieved a mat and found himself a spot at the back. He observed, with a mixture of amusement and bemusement, everyone else jostling for spots at the front. For a moment he thought there might actually be physical altercation over a prime piece of floor. He found himself wondering idly just who this Renji was, to have everyone in such a lather.
He got his answer about three seconds later.
Renji was, Byakuya conceded, startlingly attractive. His brilliant red hair (surely it couldn’t be real) was bound back in a ponytail, a bandanna serving as a makeshift headband emphasising his angular face. He was a creature of contrast, all red hair and tanned skin and the black of his startling facial tattoos. He grinned broadly, and Byakuya was taken back by the lack of artifice, the genuine happiness in his warm brown eyes. He was wearing loose track pants and a black singlet that showed of muscular arms and clung to his torso like a second skin. There didn’t seem to be a skerrick of fat on him. He looked, Byakuya thought, more like the singer of a rock band than a yoga instructor.
‘Hey guys,’ he said, crossing to fiddle with the CD player. ‘How’s everyone this week?’ There was a chorus of varying responses - everything from exhausted to awesome, and Renji turned that boyish grin on the class again as he straightened.
‘Any newcomers?’ Byakuya, along with a handful of other people, raised a hand. Renji smiled.
‘Welcome to class, I’m Renji. Don’t worry if you struggle at first, yeah? Even if you’re pretty fit, yoga uses a whole lot of different muscles. Just do what you’re comfortable with and leave it at that. Don’t want anyone injuring anything.’ He winked. Someone sighed longingly.
‘Ok,’ Renji said, not able to hide the amusement in his eyes as he hit the play button and gentle music began drifting from the speakers. ‘Let’s get started.’
-
He was, Byakuya thought, going to fire Yoruichi the next morning. No matter how stressed he was, no matter what the spiritual, physical or emotional benefits of yoga, nothing could possibly make up for the humiliation of being completely outdone by a group of 70 year olds and a skinny teenagers with ridiculous hair colours and unnecessary facial piercings. He just didn’t bend the way they seemed to. They appeared to be able to fold themselves up ridiculously easily as he struggled to persuade his legs and arms that various painful positions were actually possible. He was dripping sweat while the distinguished looking elderly woman beside him moved gracefully from ‘downward dog’ to ‘plank’ to ‘upward dog’.
‘Bring your left knee to your chest, and bring your foot down on the inside of your left wrist,’ Renji told them, cheerfully demonstrating. Renji, Byakuya had concluded, was not human. There was no way a human being could be that flexible. No way. His tanned skin was burnished by a light layer of sweat but he appeared to be completely at ease balancing in ways that should have been precarious, but looked as easy and graceful as breathing when he demonstrated them.
Byakuya took a moment out of concentrating on not toppling over ignominiously to appreciate Renji’s skill. His every movement was smooth and economical, he never seemed to exert any more energy than he needed too, yet everything he did looked effortless. There was an air of carefully restrained power to him, leashed and bubbling beneath the surface. He was, Byakuya had to admit, quite…beautiful.
‘And step back into downward dog,’ Renji instructed. Byakuya tried not to sigh with relief. Downward dog was, at least, less painful than many of the other positions he’d been introduced too. A pair of feet appeared in front of him and he looked up into Renji’s face. It was, he thought, a fairly discomfiting position. It was hard not to feel somewhat awkward when in downward dog. Though, he thought somewhat sourly, I suppose Renji wouldn’t be the least bit bothered.
‘Here,’ Renji reached for him then hesitated. ‘D’you mind?’ he asked, and Byakuya was astonished to see what he thought might be the beginnings of a flush on his handsome face.
‘No,’ Byakuya said. Renji’s hands settled lightly on his hips.
‘Shift your weight back a little,’ Renji instructed. Byakuya acquiesced to the gentle pressure of his hands. Renji’s fingers slid back, inadvertently brushing the bare skin where Byakuya’s singlet had ridden forward. Byakuya has anticipated the touch. He hadn’t anticipated his response. His breath hitched as Renji’s warm fingers connected with his skin. Lust, hot and demanding, uncoiled in his stomach with bewildering intensity. Renji’s hands were warm, his touch gentle but sure. Byakuya wondered, suddenly, what those hands would feel like on the rest of his body, sliding over him, touching him…
He flinched without thinking, struck by a crippling combination of arousal and guilt. The hands vanished.
‘Sorry,’ Renji said ruefully. Byakuya struggled to regain some semblance of composure.
‘Not at all…I’m merely a little ticklish.’
Ticklish? He thought incredulously. Have you completely departed from your senses?
Renji chuckled, apparently accepting his excuse, and moved on to correct someone else’s posture. Byakuya found himself watching him as he repositioned the girls hands. There was something…respectful about the way he touched her. Even with his hands on he waist, adjusting her stance, there was nothing lewd in the way his hands moved over her body. He treated everyone in the class with friendly amiability. He was remarkable.
Remarkable?
Byakuya firmly returned his mind to focusing on the alignment of his limbs. He didn’t have time for those sort of thoughts. They weren’t conducive to anything resembling productivity.
-
By the end of the class, Byakuya’s ferocious competitive streak had asserted itself in full. He would, be determined, practice until he was not just as good as these callow youths and grandmothers, he would practice until he was better. He had to admit, the meditative section at the end of the class had been pleasant. He ran his towel over his face and returned his mat to the pile. Mashiro, he noted with relief, had been accosted by a small blonde girl who appeared to be quite angry about something.
‘Hey,’ he turned to face Renji and was struck by the full force of his warm brown eyes. ‘How’d you enjoy class?’ Renji asked.
‘I’m not sure ‘enjoy’ is the right word,’ he said wryly. To his surprise, Renji looked slightly hurt. Cursing himself, and even more furious with himself for being upset that he’d caused upset, he hurried to clarify. ‘I believe I will enjoy it more when I’ve become accustomed to the positions,’ he explained. Renji’s seriousness melted again into his customary grin. Byakuya was taken aback anew by his sheer openness. His face read like an open book, every fluctuation of his emotions clear in his eyes and the set of his features. Byakuya couldn’t remember, couldn’t imagine, being so unguarded.
‘Yeah, it takes you a bit like that. I could barely move after the first time I did it. Does that mean you’ll be back?’ He quirked an eyebrow questioningly.
‘I hope so.’ Renji looked pleased. Byakuya couldn’t begin to fathom why; Renji didn’t know him from a bar of soap, and he already had a class full of devoted disciples.
‘Well, if you’ve got any questions, come ask. You were pretty good for a beginner, you know.’
Byakuya fumbled for an appropriate response. He had a variety of appropriate responses tailored for most of the social situations he found himself in regularly, but they didn’t include ‘compliments from attractive yoga instructors.’
‘Thankyou,’ he said, this time feeling as though he was in the middle of puberty again.
He was saved from the burgeoning silence by his phone vibrating in his pocket. He hooked it out and checked his messages; apparently, crises three had arisen during his two-hour absence from his desk. He sighed, suddenly unable to check his weariness. Could they not just leave me alone for…no, you are in position of authority for a reason. It is your responsibility to ensure that you are available whenever the company requires your expertise.
‘Everything ok?’ Renji asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Byakuya looked up, surprised, and this time Renji definitely coloured. ‘Not that it’s any of my business, really,’ he clarified, shrugging. ‘You just looked…’ he trailed off, and Byakuya found himself smiling a little.
‘Just work.’ Renji glanced at the clock.
‘It’s 7pm, you should tell them to bugger off. But…’ he stretched, rolling his shoulders. ‘That’s probably why I’m the yoga instructor and your some hotshot…lawyer? Business exec? Doctor?’
‘Why do you assume those three?’ Renji gave him an incredulous look.
‘You kidding? You’re wearing designer track pants. And your watch cost more than this hall. But hey, I could be wrong. You could just be dirty rich.’ He grinned, and Byakuya found himself oddly charmed. Usually he found such comments aggravating, but Renji…there was no malice in the way Renji asked.
‘I work for Kuchiki Enterprises,’ he explained. Renji nodded.
‘Even I know what that is. Guess that explains the 7pm calls. Sucks for you, but I guess it’s a pretty sweet job, yeah?’
Byakuya made a non-committal noise.Not really, the traitorous voice muttered in his head. Not when I spend my entire life at social functions with people I dislike or alone in my penthouse reading books I dislike almost as much in order to be able to discuss them with the aforementioned people. Renji glanced up. Byakuya realised he’d been so focused on the redhead he hadn’t noticed the hall filling up again. Renji smiled.
‘My intermediate class. Hey, not today, obviously, ‘cause you have to go, but if you ever want to stay to watch…if you’re interested, that is, you should.’ Byakuya found himself nodding.
‘I’d like that,’ he said, surprised to find that the sentiment was genuine. Renji laid a hand on his shoulder. It was a simple, friendly gesture, but again his touch had Byakuya’s heart thudding in his chest. Nobody touched him. Certainly not this causally, anyway. The hand lingered for just a moment too long, and Byakuya looked into Renji’s eyes.
‘I’ll see you next week,’ Renji said, catching Byakuya’s impenetrable grey eyes with his own. ‘Don’t work too hard.’ Byakuya’s lips twisted into a wry smile.
‘I’ll endeavour not too,’ he replied. The hand vanished from his shoulder and for a moment he was disappointed by the loss of the warmth. Renji turned his attention to his class, and Byakuya slipped quietly out of the door. His phone rang again and he picked it up.
‘Kuchiki,’ he said calmly. It was Yoruichi. And she was not happy. She launched into a detailed anecdote involving an important client and a supply closet and Yumichika and…‘no’ he said firmly. ‘Tell Ikkaku…no, don’t tell him that, Yoruichi, that’s not appropriate. I’ll be there in…ten minutes. No, don’t do that either. Yoruichi…’ he finished warningly. She hung up on him. He sighed, glancing up for a moment.
Renji was watching him through the hall window.
He shivered, struck suddenly by the cold and the darkness in the near-deserted car park. Through the window the hall was aglow with warm yellow light, and Renji’s hair turned to a blazing halo of crimson and gold. Renji turned his head to say something to the class, and perhaps it was the distance, or perhaps it was his imagination playing tricks, but for a moment Byakuya thought he saw the smile slip, Renji's face dissolving into a skull with pits of emptiness for eyes. Then Renji glanced back out of the window and the moment was gone, snatched away by the evening breeze. Renji raised a hand, and Byakuya tipped his head in acknowledgement. He had the sudden sensation that he was standing on the cusp of something, the wind tugging at the edges of his being.
Too much caffeine, too much exercise, too little food, he chastised himself sharply.
He turned away, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat, but as he glanced into the rear view mirror he realised he was smiling gently to himself.
Title: Flexibility (1/?)
Fandom: Bleach
Genre: AU/Crack/Romance
Rating: PG-13 (at the moment...*evil grin*)
Pairing: Renji/Byakuya, briefly implied Yumi/Ikkaku, other pairings may be mentioned based on my whims, expect to see left-wing acitivst/editor of political magazine Shuuhei soon if I keep writing this.
Wordcount: 2811
Warnings: CRACK, track pants, Mashiro with a tongue piercing
Disclaimer: If I owned Bleach, there'd be a lot more naked men.
Notes: Look, this fic in a bit of a testament to my insanity. Just bear with it. It's not designed to be taken at all seriously.
Summary: A reluctant Byakuya attends a yoga class and gets more than he bargained for.
Byakuya regarded the hall suspiciously through narrowed grey eyes. He fought the urge to turn around and walk straight back the way he had come. Surely, he thought, slightly frantically, as an energetic old lady elbowed her way past him and made a beeline for a large stack of mats, I don’t really need this. His back had started to twinge alarmingly when he ran for more than 5km, and he hadn’t had more than four hours sleep in two weeks, but perhaps aspirin and black coffee were friendlier solution. He hadn’t felt this out of place since his first day of school. Nobody else had arrived to prep class in a helicopter.
However, at his secretary’s vehement insistence, he had grudgingly agreed to try yoga. He had driven himself, in order to remain incognito, had donned exercise clothing usually restricted to use in his private gym, and was in the local community hall. So that made three very uncharacteristic actions in one short evening. Yoruichi, he decided, better be right about the miraculous benefits of yoga.
His cool grey eyes settled on a sign on the noticeboard advertising Saturday morning Tarot Readings with Ravyn Dream, and the urge to cut and run became almost overwhelming. He’d only just stepped through the door. Surely nobody would remark upon it if he walked right back out of it again.
‘Hey, you new?’ A slight woman with vividly dyed green hair had materialised at his elbow.
‘Yes,’ he said, sensing his chances of making a quiet and hasty exit decreasing by the second. She grinned, a silver stud glinting against the pink of her tongue. ‘You’ve picked the right place. Renji - that’s the instructor - Renji’s really awesome. I’ve been to a lot of different places, but he’s really got it, you know.’
‘Mm,’ said Byakuya, fairly sure he didn’t. He knew a sudden pang of longing for his boardroom. For his desk. For his office. For his carefully arranged assortment of tasteful personal effects. For his suits. For almost anywhere that wasn’t a community hall brimming with teenage hippies and remarkably energised grandmothers. For silence, the gentle hum of his laptop, the marble floor of his foyer…he realised his new acquaintance was still chatting away merrily and hauled his attention away from the fond recollection of his leather armchair.
‘…I just moved here, and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to find someone decent - the chick I used to learn from, I thought she was the bomb, you know? But he’s just awesome, I swear the class has doubled since he started teaching…and I don’t think it’s just because he’s, like, the sexiest thing to ever walk the earth. Seriously, a friend came with me last week and I thought she was going to pass out when he walked past her.’
Byakuya made what he hoped was a non-committal noise of polite amusement.
‘So why’d you decide to come? Not for Renji, surely.’ She winked at him, hooking the tongue piercing between her teeth absently. He was so taken-aback it took him a moment to realise she’d asked him a question. He wasn’t accustomed to strangers…teasing him.
‘My…friend,’ he explained coolly. His secretary, actually, but if she hadn’t recognised him already he’d rather keep it that way. ‘Recommended it.’
‘Girlfriend?’ she asked, wide-eyed and innocent. He choked and covered it with a cough. It wasn’t as if he weren’t accustomed to expressions of interest from the opposite sex. From the same sex, on occasion. But…she had a tongue piercing. And her hair was green. Not, Byakuya thought, trying to be fair, that she was unattractive. She was pretty in a pert sort of way, with her lively eyes and constant stream of chatter. But she wasn’t really his type. At all. To the extent he had a type. Which he didn’t. Not really.
He mentally chided himself for the lack of discipline permeating his thought process. He would have to devote some extra time to his meditation. Perhaps the three large mugs of black coffee between 2 and 4pm had been unwise.
‘No,’ he said, glancing round and searching for a way to extricate himself. Rescue came in the unlikely form of another tracksuit-clad grandmother. She appeared to be vibrating with anticipation.
‘He’s coming,’ she announced, peering over the shoulder of Byakuya’s new acquaintance. ‘Get out of the doorway, Mashiro.’ Mashiro rolled her eyes expansively and stuck her tongue out the moment the old lady looked away. She winked at Byakuya.
‘You should go get a mat. Have fun.’ She bounded off to a spot at the front of the room. Byakuya retrieved a mat and found himself a spot at the back. He observed, with a mixture of amusement and bemusement, everyone else jostling for spots at the front. For a moment he thought there might actually be physical altercation over a prime piece of floor. He found himself wondering idly just who this Renji was, to have everyone in such a lather.
He got his answer about three seconds later.
Renji was, Byakuya conceded, startlingly attractive. His brilliant red hair (surely it couldn’t be real) was bound back in a ponytail, a bandanna serving as a makeshift headband emphasising his angular face. He was a creature of contrast, all red hair and tanned skin and the black of his startling facial tattoos. He grinned broadly, and Byakuya was taken back by the lack of artifice, the genuine happiness in his warm brown eyes. He was wearing loose track pants and a black singlet that showed of muscular arms and clung to his torso like a second skin. There didn’t seem to be a skerrick of fat on him. He looked, Byakuya thought, more like the singer of a rock band than a yoga instructor.
‘Hey guys,’ he said, crossing to fiddle with the CD player. ‘How’s everyone this week?’ There was a chorus of varying responses - everything from exhausted to awesome, and Renji turned that boyish grin on the class again as he straightened.
‘Any newcomers?’ Byakuya, along with a handful of other people, raised a hand. Renji smiled.
‘Welcome to class, I’m Renji. Don’t worry if you struggle at first, yeah? Even if you’re pretty fit, yoga uses a whole lot of different muscles. Just do what you’re comfortable with and leave it at that. Don’t want anyone injuring anything.’ He winked. Someone sighed longingly.
‘Ok,’ Renji said, not able to hide the amusement in his eyes as he hit the play button and gentle music began drifting from the speakers. ‘Let’s get started.’
-
He was, Byakuya thought, going to fire Yoruichi the next morning. No matter how stressed he was, no matter what the spiritual, physical or emotional benefits of yoga, nothing could possibly make up for the humiliation of being completely outdone by a group of 70 year olds and a skinny teenagers with ridiculous hair colours and unnecessary facial piercings. He just didn’t bend the way they seemed to. They appeared to be able to fold themselves up ridiculously easily as he struggled to persuade his legs and arms that various painful positions were actually possible. He was dripping sweat while the distinguished looking elderly woman beside him moved gracefully from ‘downward dog’ to ‘plank’ to ‘upward dog’.
‘Bring your left knee to your chest, and bring your foot down on the inside of your left wrist,’ Renji told them, cheerfully demonstrating. Renji, Byakuya had concluded, was not human. There was no way a human being could be that flexible. No way. His tanned skin was burnished by a light layer of sweat but he appeared to be completely at ease balancing in ways that should have been precarious, but looked as easy and graceful as breathing when he demonstrated them.
Byakuya took a moment out of concentrating on not toppling over ignominiously to appreciate Renji’s skill. His every movement was smooth and economical, he never seemed to exert any more energy than he needed too, yet everything he did looked effortless. There was an air of carefully restrained power to him, leashed and bubbling beneath the surface. He was, Byakuya had to admit, quite…beautiful.
‘And step back into downward dog,’ Renji instructed. Byakuya tried not to sigh with relief. Downward dog was, at least, less painful than many of the other positions he’d been introduced too. A pair of feet appeared in front of him and he looked up into Renji’s face. It was, he thought, a fairly discomfiting position. It was hard not to feel somewhat awkward when in downward dog. Though, he thought somewhat sourly, I suppose Renji wouldn’t be the least bit bothered.
‘Here,’ Renji reached for him then hesitated. ‘D’you mind?’ he asked, and Byakuya was astonished to see what he thought might be the beginnings of a flush on his handsome face.
‘No,’ Byakuya said. Renji’s hands settled lightly on his hips.
‘Shift your weight back a little,’ Renji instructed. Byakuya acquiesced to the gentle pressure of his hands. Renji’s fingers slid back, inadvertently brushing the bare skin where Byakuya’s singlet had ridden forward. Byakuya has anticipated the touch. He hadn’t anticipated his response. His breath hitched as Renji’s warm fingers connected with his skin. Lust, hot and demanding, uncoiled in his stomach with bewildering intensity. Renji’s hands were warm, his touch gentle but sure. Byakuya wondered, suddenly, what those hands would feel like on the rest of his body, sliding over him, touching him…
He flinched without thinking, struck by a crippling combination of arousal and guilt. The hands vanished.
‘Sorry,’ Renji said ruefully. Byakuya struggled to regain some semblance of composure.
‘Not at all…I’m merely a little ticklish.’
Ticklish? He thought incredulously. Have you completely departed from your senses?
Renji chuckled, apparently accepting his excuse, and moved on to correct someone else’s posture. Byakuya found himself watching him as he repositioned the girls hands. There was something…respectful about the way he touched her. Even with his hands on he waist, adjusting her stance, there was nothing lewd in the way his hands moved over her body. He treated everyone in the class with friendly amiability. He was remarkable.
Remarkable?
Byakuya firmly returned his mind to focusing on the alignment of his limbs. He didn’t have time for those sort of thoughts. They weren’t conducive to anything resembling productivity.
-
By the end of the class, Byakuya’s ferocious competitive streak had asserted itself in full. He would, be determined, practice until he was not just as good as these callow youths and grandmothers, he would practice until he was better. He had to admit, the meditative section at the end of the class had been pleasant. He ran his towel over his face and returned his mat to the pile. Mashiro, he noted with relief, had been accosted by a small blonde girl who appeared to be quite angry about something.
‘Hey,’ he turned to face Renji and was struck by the full force of his warm brown eyes. ‘How’d you enjoy class?’ Renji asked.
‘I’m not sure ‘enjoy’ is the right word,’ he said wryly. To his surprise, Renji looked slightly hurt. Cursing himself, and even more furious with himself for being upset that he’d caused upset, he hurried to clarify. ‘I believe I will enjoy it more when I’ve become accustomed to the positions,’ he explained. Renji’s seriousness melted again into his customary grin. Byakuya was taken aback anew by his sheer openness. His face read like an open book, every fluctuation of his emotions clear in his eyes and the set of his features. Byakuya couldn’t remember, couldn’t imagine, being so unguarded.
‘Yeah, it takes you a bit like that. I could barely move after the first time I did it. Does that mean you’ll be back?’ He quirked an eyebrow questioningly.
‘I hope so.’ Renji looked pleased. Byakuya couldn’t begin to fathom why; Renji didn’t know him from a bar of soap, and he already had a class full of devoted disciples.
‘Well, if you’ve got any questions, come ask. You were pretty good for a beginner, you know.’
Byakuya fumbled for an appropriate response. He had a variety of appropriate responses tailored for most of the social situations he found himself in regularly, but they didn’t include ‘compliments from attractive yoga instructors.’
‘Thankyou,’ he said, this time feeling as though he was in the middle of puberty again.
He was saved from the burgeoning silence by his phone vibrating in his pocket. He hooked it out and checked his messages; apparently, crises three had arisen during his two-hour absence from his desk. He sighed, suddenly unable to check his weariness. Could they not just leave me alone for…no, you are in position of authority for a reason. It is your responsibility to ensure that you are available whenever the company requires your expertise.
‘Everything ok?’ Renji asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Byakuya looked up, surprised, and this time Renji definitely coloured. ‘Not that it’s any of my business, really,’ he clarified, shrugging. ‘You just looked…’ he trailed off, and Byakuya found himself smiling a little.
‘Just work.’ Renji glanced at the clock.
‘It’s 7pm, you should tell them to bugger off. But…’ he stretched, rolling his shoulders. ‘That’s probably why I’m the yoga instructor and your some hotshot…lawyer? Business exec? Doctor?’
‘Why do you assume those three?’ Renji gave him an incredulous look.
‘You kidding? You’re wearing designer track pants. And your watch cost more than this hall. But hey, I could be wrong. You could just be dirty rich.’ He grinned, and Byakuya found himself oddly charmed. Usually he found such comments aggravating, but Renji…there was no malice in the way Renji asked.
‘I work for Kuchiki Enterprises,’ he explained. Renji nodded.
‘Even I know what that is. Guess that explains the 7pm calls. Sucks for you, but I guess it’s a pretty sweet job, yeah?’
Byakuya made a non-committal noise.Not really, the traitorous voice muttered in his head. Not when I spend my entire life at social functions with people I dislike or alone in my penthouse reading books I dislike almost as much in order to be able to discuss them with the aforementioned people. Renji glanced up. Byakuya realised he’d been so focused on the redhead he hadn’t noticed the hall filling up again. Renji smiled.
‘My intermediate class. Hey, not today, obviously, ‘cause you have to go, but if you ever want to stay to watch…if you’re interested, that is, you should.’ Byakuya found himself nodding.
‘I’d like that,’ he said, surprised to find that the sentiment was genuine. Renji laid a hand on his shoulder. It was a simple, friendly gesture, but again his touch had Byakuya’s heart thudding in his chest. Nobody touched him. Certainly not this causally, anyway. The hand lingered for just a moment too long, and Byakuya looked into Renji’s eyes.
‘I’ll see you next week,’ Renji said, catching Byakuya’s impenetrable grey eyes with his own. ‘Don’t work too hard.’ Byakuya’s lips twisted into a wry smile.
‘I’ll endeavour not too,’ he replied. The hand vanished from his shoulder and for a moment he was disappointed by the loss of the warmth. Renji turned his attention to his class, and Byakuya slipped quietly out of the door. His phone rang again and he picked it up.
‘Kuchiki,’ he said calmly. It was Yoruichi. And she was not happy. She launched into a detailed anecdote involving an important client and a supply closet and Yumichika and…‘no’ he said firmly. ‘Tell Ikkaku…no, don’t tell him that, Yoruichi, that’s not appropriate. I’ll be there in…ten minutes. No, don’t do that either. Yoruichi…’ he finished warningly. She hung up on him. He sighed, glancing up for a moment.
Renji was watching him through the hall window.
He shivered, struck suddenly by the cold and the darkness in the near-deserted car park. Through the window the hall was aglow with warm yellow light, and Renji’s hair turned to a blazing halo of crimson and gold. Renji turned his head to say something to the class, and perhaps it was the distance, or perhaps it was his imagination playing tricks, but for a moment Byakuya thought he saw the smile slip, Renji's face dissolving into a skull with pits of emptiness for eyes. Then Renji glanced back out of the window and the moment was gone, snatched away by the evening breeze. Renji raised a hand, and Byakuya tipped his head in acknowledgement. He had the sudden sensation that he was standing on the cusp of something, the wind tugging at the edges of his being.
Too much caffeine, too much exercise, too little food, he chastised himself sharply.
He turned away, unlocking his car and climbing into the driver’s seat, but as he glanced into the rear view mirror he realised he was smiling gently to himself.