Bleach: Four Conversations Byakuya Never Should Have Had...
Today we finally have that Ichigo/Byakuya fic I've been threatening for so long. It takes place after In Vino Veritas and Blame it on the Moon and before Celebrations and Interrogations. The main fic index is, as usual, right here. Let's get on with the show.
Title: Four Conversations Byakuya Never Should Have Had, And Two That Were Long Overdue.
Word Count: 3,586
Rating: PG-ish. Mentions of sex, and the usual Bleach-level violence, but that's about it.
Obligatory Disclaimer: Y'all know the drill--I do not own Bleach.
Summary: It takes Byakuya and Ichigo longer than it should to go from "having sex" to "being lovers."
1.
Byakuya rolled over in bed, away from Ichigo, once they’d…finished. He felt Ichigo’s confusion and annoyance through his reiatsu-they hadn’t been having sex for long, but Byakuya still knew that distance had no part of it as far as Ichigo was concerned-but to his relief, Ichigo didn’t voice it. He just moved in close again and slung an arm over Byakuya’s waist, leaving his palm lightly pressed against his stomach. Byakuya shivered at the reminder of how…intent Ichigo was on the hunt, whether his prey was an enemy or a bed partner. Clearly, he wasn’t to be allowed to escape this thing, whatever it was. That would cause friction with the clan’s elders.
Byakuya was vaguely surprised to find that he didn’t mind as much as he should have.
“So,” Ichigo whispered, “how long do I have before you show me the back door?”
Ah. Good. He was going to be reasonable about this. That was…refreshing.
“One hour.”
Byakuya missed both the playful tone of Ichigo’s question and the disappointment in his response.
“Right. Well, guess I shouldn’t waste it, then.”
Exactly an hour later, Byakuya lay alone in his bed with Ichigo’s scent still clinging to his sheets and to his skin and told himself that he had nothing to regret.
2.
After he and Ichigo had been together (together?) for almost a week, Byakuya turned a corner in his mansion and found himself face to face with one of the clan’s elders. He stopped, bowed politely and waited.
“The Kurosaki boy is unsuitable,” the elder said almost immediately.
You’ve clearly never had sex with him, Byakuya thought before he could stop himself. Out loud, he said, “There will be no pollution of the bloodline. No children will come of this.”
The elder’s eyes narrowed. He was clearly not fooled by Byakuya’s attempt to dodge the issue. “Use him and discard him if that is your wish,” he said, in a voice like tempered steel. “You are young, still. We can be forgiving of this dalliance, so long as it does no harm to the clan’s reputation. Do you understand, Kuchiki Byakuya?”
“I do,” Byakuya replied, and continued on his way.
Later, as he watched Ichigo sleep peacefully under one of the trees in his garden, Byakuya fleetingly allowed himself to wonder if he had said the right thing. Then Ichigo woke up and ensured that Byakuya thought of little else but him for the rest of the night.
3.
A few too-short weeks later, Ichigo went back to the living world. After three days without him, Byakuya noticed himself becoming more short-tempered. He adamantly refused to connect the two events, and ordered Renji to bring in the day’s roster of division members who’d been caught fighting with members of other divisions (the Eleventh) the night before. After all, if he was going to frighten someone…
After five days, Byakuya’s change of mood apparently became public knowledge, or at least publicly noticeable. For the most part, the only change was that anyone who didn’t have urgent business with him began to avoid him as though he were carrying something distasteful and contagious to boot. It wasn’t a change he minded all that much.
Rukia was another matter entirely. For no reason that Byakuya could discern, she abruptly started dragging Renji home to eat dinner with them. Every. Night. Byakuya was, frankly, completely baffled. Why would he possibly want to inflict Renji on himself anymore than was absolutely necessary? And how was this supposed to help with his non-existent problem that had nothing to do with Ichigo’s absence? By the third time Renji joined them, Byakuya decided to keep his questions to himself. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear Rukia’s answers, anyway.
A week and a half after Ichigo’s departure, Byakuya spontaneously received a package from Captain Unohana containing a variety of calming teas. He chalked it up to the fact that she was the captain of the Fourth, and they didn’t always make sense to one who was not well acquainted with the ways of healers.
Two weeks in, Byakuya was called before Captain-General Yamamoto, who handed out the single most contrived excuse to get him into the living world that Byakuya had ever heard in his entire life.
He jumped on it like a starving man on a four-course meal.
As a matter of courtesy, he went through the Urahara Shoten gate, and greeted its maker on the other side. As a matter of pride, he did not run screaming when Urahara Kisuke cornered him the second his foot touched the ground and settled in for what looked to be a lengthy interrogation.
“Captain Kuchiki!”
Byakuya twitched and firmly reminded himself that someone showing him the proper courtesy due his rank and position was not a cause for alarm-even coming from someone as notorious for…bending the rules as Urahara.
“Urahara. Pardon the intrusion.”
“Not at all, not at all!” the shopkeeper caroled. “It’s nice to talk to people from Soul Society every now and again. Ichigo is just horrible at passing along the latest gossip, you know.”
Byakuya stiffened. “What purpose would be served by perpetuating that useless drivel?” he asked, a little more sharply than he intended.
“Aaaaahhhh-?” Urahara drawled. His voice was laced with a tone of concern, but his eyes were twinkling. “What’s this? I hope I haven’t offended…?
“No,” Byakuya forced out between gritted teeth. “You have not.”
Damn propriety, anyway.
Urahara’s smile somehow managed to be both gleeful and calculating. Byakuya chose not to speculate about what that might portend, because the shopkeeper was-unsurprisingly-not done talking. “Ah, good, good. I’d hate to think I was making you uncomfortable, talking about the juiciest piece of gossip to hit Seireitei since our dear strawberry first made his debut-“
Byakuya briefly weighed the composure expected of him against the need to preserve his sanity. He decided to interrupt. “Did you have a point?”
Urahara simply carried on as if he hadn’t been interrupted at all. “I do indeed,” he assured.
“And?”
“Oh, it’s nothing of any great import, really,” Urahara said breezily. Byakuya privately doubted that, and the way his interrogator’s eyes narrowed and his voice turned silkily dangerous proved him right.
“I was just wondering what could possibly bring you here, Captain of the Sixth Division?”
“Byakuya!”
Fortunately, Ichigo stopped short of throwing his arms around Byakuya right in front of Urahara. He stood close by Byakuya’s side, well inside the captain’s personal space like he belonged there. Byakuya tried to ignore his immediate, visceral reaction to Ichigo’s presence. He tried to pretend that Urahara hadn’t noticed. He suspected he wasn’t fooling anyone. His suspicions were confirmed when Ichigo took one look at his face, grinned and came to his rescue.
“Let’s go,” he said simply, grabbing Byakuya’s hand and turning to move away. They hadn’t gone more than three steps toward the door before Urahara’s voice stopped them.
“I don’t think you answered my question, did you, captain?”
“I am here because I was ordered to come. Nothing more,” he answered flatly without turning around. Ichigo took an abrupt step forward and his hand slipped from Byakuya’s.
“Come on, come on, we’re wasting time here,” he said insistently. He didn’t look or sound any different but something about him suddenly felt…off. Byakuya was so caught up in trying to discern the problem that he missed Urahara’s soft reply.
“So that’s the only reason, is it?”
4.
Every morning during his visit, Byakuya quietly shadowed Ichigo as he walked with his sisters to school, then settled onto the roof of a nearby building to wait. He wasn’t close enough to actually see Ichigo, but that hardly mattered. Ichigo’s uncontained reiatsu painted such a vivid picture that Byakuya might as well be sitting in the very next seat. About a week and a half into this new routine, Senbonzakura spoke up.
Is this the one to whom you wish to be bound, milord? he asked curiously.
I am bound by my duty, and by the vows that I have made, Byakuya replied.
I see, Senbonzakura said thoughtfully. He fell silent then, and Byakuya wondered just what that had meant.
5.
A few days later around the same time, Byakuya’s finely honed senses detected a new, tightly controlled reiatsu signature coming from the direction of the Urahara Shoten. He focused on it and suddenly, there it was-the salty smell of the wind off the ocean and the chill of deep water, backed by a feeling of force that almost knocked Byakuya off his feet. It hit him like a bolt of lightning and then backed away, giving him just a taste of the unbridled power of which its master was capable.
Ukitake Jyuushirou had arrived, and he was not happy.
Byakuya immediately stood and shifted into shunpo, heading for a more remote and private location than the middle of a school populated by ever-increasing numbers of students who could see him. Senbonzakura- he started, then stopped when he realized that he had no idea what order he had been about to give his zanpakutou.
I have informed Zangetsu that there is a matter you need to see to elsewhere. He has already informed Ichigo, who has indicated his willingness to help if need be. I assured Zangetsu that it would not be necessary.
I-see. Well done. Byakuya dropped out of shunpo at an unoccupied stretch of riverbank. He felt inexplicably relieved at Senbonzakura’s actions, but he pushed the feeling aside. Regardless of what Soul Society did or didn’t think about his and Ichigo’s relationship, he would undoubtedly have been informed if a problem arose concerning the substitute shinigami. He would likewise have been alerted if something came up relating to one of their enemies, and neither case would necessitate a personal visit from a fellow captain. There was only one other viable conclusion: whatever the reason, Ukitake was here to see him. Becoming distracted would not serve him well in this situation.
Byakuya braced himself just as Ukitake dropped out of shunpo in front of him. He drew his own reiatsu about him, both as a shield and a warning. The other captain’s eyes narrowed, but his expression did not otherwise betray the fury that radiated from his reiatsu.
“I did not come here to fight,” Ukitake said quietly. “I came here to talk.”
“I am listening,” Byakuya acknowledged.
“Be certain that you truly are, because I will not repeat myself.”
Byakuya stiffened, but nodded his assent. He did not wish to start a fight with another captain that he could not be assured of winning, not when Ichigo would surely sense it and try to intervene. Ukitake stared intently at him for a time, seeming to take some unknown measure. He apparently found whatever he sought, because he nodded slightly and continued.
“Do you know your intentions towards Ichigo?”
“I don’t believe-“ Byakuya started, but he was not allowed to finish.
“Do not deny this to me,” Ukitake said harshly. “You are fooling no one, Kuchiki Byakuya. All of Seireitei knows of your involvement, just as all of Seireitei can see your apparent disdain.”
Disdain? Why would he think…? Byakuya frowned in confusion, but chose not to interrupt.
His reaction did not go unnoticed. “You see nothing in your behavior that would indicate such a feeling, I see. Shall I take it that this is merely a brief affair? An outlet for physical release?”
Had he been asked that question at the very start, Byakuya would have said yes without hesitation. Now the suggestion felt almost like an attack. He felt his guard go up as if he were facing an enemy on the battlefield and had to take a moment to sharply rein in his wayward reiatsu before he could answer the question.
“No. That is not the case.”
If anything, that only made Ukitake angrier. “You continue to involve yourself with him beyond anything that might be blamed on weakness of the flesh. You claim to not be using him for your own pleasure. You make no effort to dispel the rumors that I have no doubt you have heard. Yet you still hide him from your family. You bar him almost completely from your home. You deny your involvement to anyone who asks, directly or indirectly. You treat him no better than you would a whore you picked up off the street. These actions are not befitting of a captain of the Gotei 13, nor of anyone who would call himself a man.” Ukitake’s reiatsu gained strength and fury over the course of his speech, like a hurricane that reaches its deadliest height just before it crashes ashore. His eyes reflected the cold steel of his still-sheathed blade, while his voice carried its lethal edge. Byakuya was frozen to the spot as he delivered the final blow.
“If this means nothing, then stop leading the boy on. If it means more, then give him-and yourself-the acknowledgement you deserve. But you cannot continue this charade that you have been enacting. It is beneath you, Byakuya. I expect better.”
“I…understand,” Byakuya replied, feeling just as shaken by the other captain’s words as by his menacing aura. “I will take your words to heart.”
Just like that, the storm was gone-put back on its leash to await a more suitable target. Ukitake did not smile as he took his leave, but had Byakuya been less preoccupied, he might have noticed a hint of relief in the other captain’s eyes. Instead, he simply dropped to the ground the instant he was alone.
Ichigo, he thought, is that really how I’ve been treating you? If so, then I must rectify it. But…how? What-what should I do? What do I want to do? Then, almost fearfully, What do I want this to be?
No matter how many times he asked himself, he couldn’t find the answers.
6.
Byakuya came out of his thoughts about the same time the sun went down, but that had less to do with the changing light and more to do with the large group of hollows that suddenly appeared in the direction of Ichigo’s house. For the second time that day, he found himself shifting into shunpo in a desperate race against the clock and issuing orders to his zanpakutou on the fly.
Senbonzakura, contact Ichigo’s zanpakutou.
Already done, milord. Ichigo has sensed them as well, and will meet you there.
Good.
They made it in time, but just barely. The following battle was like a blur to those watching it: Tensa Zangetsu’s speed and Senbonzakura’s shimmering blades joined in a beautiful, deadly dance that left their enemies in pieces.
But it was not without a price. For some inexplicable reason, one of Ichigo’s sisters ventured outside during the battle. One of the hollows, sensing an easy kill with innate spiritual power, targeted her immediately. Byakuya moved to eliminate the threat, Ichigo to protect his sister.
Even if he had been merely human, Byakuya had no doubt that Ichigo would have still gotten there first. The hollow’s claws pierced his back and penetrated completely through his body just seconds before the beast was obliterated. Ichigo staggered forward, sliding off the claws that were all that remained of the hollow with a wet, sickening sound. His sister screamed as he collapsed in a bloody heap at her feet and lay terrifyingly still. If not for the faint sense of his reiatsu, Byakuya would have thought him dead.
Byakuya’s vision went red with rage. He turned back to the hollows. “I don’t have time for you,” he snarled. They attacked as one, misinterpreting his warning as a weakness. He did not give another.
“Bankai. Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.”
It wasn’t a battle anymore. Those filthy hollows had tried to kill someone who Byakuya claimed as his own. He decorated the street with their blood. In seconds, it was all over. Byakuya quickly opened a gate back to Soul Society and carefully gathered Ichigo in his arms. He left without saying a word to the girl, or the rest of Ichigo’s family still inside the house. There was no time to waste if Ichigo was to survive.
If the preceding battle was a blur to onlookers, the desperate flight that followed it was even moreso to Byakuya himself. The next thing he saw clearly was a Fourth division shinigami taking Ichigo from him. Even though he knew it was the only way to save him, Byakuya didn’t think he could have let go without Captain Unohana’s steady presence waiting in the background.
He allowed another Fourth division shinigami to lead him off to get examined and cleaned up, but she probably could have stripped him naked and led him into Hueco Mundo without his notice. All his attention was on the faint flicker of reiatsu that was all he could sense of his lover. It filled his senses and he found himself unable to breathe easily until the small flame was fanned to life once again.
Eventually, Captain Unohana exited the room in which that flame now burned and made her way over to him, looking tired but relieved.
“He will live,” she said simply. “You may go in, but I must ask that you let him rest.”
Of course, he tried to say, and thank you, but nothing would come out. She smiled in understanding, and left him alone. Byakuya stumbled gracelessly into Ichigo’s room and sank into a chair at his bedside. For a time, he was utterly transfixed by the rise and fall of Ichigo’s chest.
He breathed. He lived. Those two facts had a profound effect on Byakuya’s perspective.
“When you wake,” he whispered, “we will have to talk. I do not wish to dismiss you, or to sever what has grown between us, though I suspect you may well believe so.” Somewhere, words existed that would fully define Byakuya’s feelings, but they remained far beyond his reach. His voice failed him. Byakuya reached out and laid his hand over Ichigo’s.
“Ichigo…I…I…”
“I know,” Ichigo said hoarsely. “I hate you, too.”
Byakuya flinched, suddenly afraid that it was already too late, but Ichigo wasn’t finished.
“But I lied about that before, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Byakuya smiled. “As did I.”
Ichigo smiled tiredly at Byakuya’s admission. “Good,” he said, “because it’d really suck if I was the only one in this.”
“You are not,” Byakuya assured, giving in to a nigh-uncontrollable impulse to brush aside a wayward clump of Ichigo’s hair. Ichigo briefly closed his eyes and turned into the touch.
“I’m not,” he breathed. “I’m really not.” The rise of his reiatsu, heralded by the scent of blood and the sound of driving rain, alerted Byakuya that Ichigo had solidified his resolve on something. He didn’t have to wait long to find out what.
Ichigo turned back to face Byakuya directly, and his eyes slipped up, away from Byakuya’s face. “I wouldn’t be lying if I told you I hated that, you know. I really do,” he said, as if it explained everything. Byakuya was confused until, in a flash of insight, the significance of Ichigo’s line of sight dawned on him.
“By ‘that,’ do you mean the kenseikan?” he asked cautiously.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“It marks you as a noble. As a Kuchiki. And you never take it off.”
Byakuya considered that. Ichigo was…upset that he was a noble? No, that didn’t feel right. In any event, it wasn’t as if his duty to his family was the only claim laid upon-wait. Claim. That was it. Ichigo wanted to claim him, visibly and unmistakably. He wanted a tangible reassurance that Byakuya truly wanted this.
Well, he wasn’t the only one.
“I am a noble. I am also a Kuchiki. I could never permanently lay those aside,” he warned.
“I know that!” Ichigo snapped, his famous hair-trigger temper finally rising to the fore. “I wouldn’t ask that! I just-“
“You want to take it off.” Byakuya wondered, briefly, if Ichigo could detect the scent of sakura blossoms and the feel of a warm spring wind, and if he knew what they meant.
Ichigo met his gaze without flinching. “I’m not asking you to be someone else, Byakuya. I’m just asking you to be mine, right here and right now, just between the two of us.”
It had never escaped Byakuya’s notice that his current lover was also one of the very few people to have ever broken the kenseikan in battle. Part of him had always known this moment would come. That part of him was unsurprised to find that he had already come to this decision long ago.
Byakuya bowed his head and allowed his lover to gently remove the kenseikan from its customary place. He sighed deeply and lowered himself the rest of the short distance to rest his head and arms on the bed. Ichigo laughed, a little shakily, and carded the fingers of one hand through Byakuya’s hair. He smiled, feeling his hair scatter from its usual strictly molded form under Ichigo’s touch.
You should terrify me, Byakuya thought, as he captured Ichigo’s unoccupied hand in one of his own. I wonder if I’ll ever find out why you don’t. Out loud he said, “I believe I will stay here a while longer.”
Ichigo’s answering smile seemed to light up the entire room. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You do that.”
Title: Four Conversations Byakuya Never Should Have Had, And Two That Were Long Overdue.
Word Count: 3,586
Rating: PG-ish. Mentions of sex, and the usual Bleach-level violence, but that's about it.
Obligatory Disclaimer: Y'all know the drill--I do not own Bleach.
Summary: It takes Byakuya and Ichigo longer than it should to go from "having sex" to "being lovers."
1.
Byakuya rolled over in bed, away from Ichigo, once they’d…finished. He felt Ichigo’s confusion and annoyance through his reiatsu-they hadn’t been having sex for long, but Byakuya still knew that distance had no part of it as far as Ichigo was concerned-but to his relief, Ichigo didn’t voice it. He just moved in close again and slung an arm over Byakuya’s waist, leaving his palm lightly pressed against his stomach. Byakuya shivered at the reminder of how…intent Ichigo was on the hunt, whether his prey was an enemy or a bed partner. Clearly, he wasn’t to be allowed to escape this thing, whatever it was. That would cause friction with the clan’s elders.
Byakuya was vaguely surprised to find that he didn’t mind as much as he should have.
“So,” Ichigo whispered, “how long do I have before you show me the back door?”
Ah. Good. He was going to be reasonable about this. That was…refreshing.
“One hour.”
Byakuya missed both the playful tone of Ichigo’s question and the disappointment in his response.
“Right. Well, guess I shouldn’t waste it, then.”
Exactly an hour later, Byakuya lay alone in his bed with Ichigo’s scent still clinging to his sheets and to his skin and told himself that he had nothing to regret.
2.
After he and Ichigo had been together (together?) for almost a week, Byakuya turned a corner in his mansion and found himself face to face with one of the clan’s elders. He stopped, bowed politely and waited.
“The Kurosaki boy is unsuitable,” the elder said almost immediately.
You’ve clearly never had sex with him, Byakuya thought before he could stop himself. Out loud, he said, “There will be no pollution of the bloodline. No children will come of this.”
The elder’s eyes narrowed. He was clearly not fooled by Byakuya’s attempt to dodge the issue. “Use him and discard him if that is your wish,” he said, in a voice like tempered steel. “You are young, still. We can be forgiving of this dalliance, so long as it does no harm to the clan’s reputation. Do you understand, Kuchiki Byakuya?”
“I do,” Byakuya replied, and continued on his way.
Later, as he watched Ichigo sleep peacefully under one of the trees in his garden, Byakuya fleetingly allowed himself to wonder if he had said the right thing. Then Ichigo woke up and ensured that Byakuya thought of little else but him for the rest of the night.
3.
A few too-short weeks later, Ichigo went back to the living world. After three days without him, Byakuya noticed himself becoming more short-tempered. He adamantly refused to connect the two events, and ordered Renji to bring in the day’s roster of division members who’d been caught fighting with members of other divisions (the Eleventh) the night before. After all, if he was going to frighten someone…
After five days, Byakuya’s change of mood apparently became public knowledge, or at least publicly noticeable. For the most part, the only change was that anyone who didn’t have urgent business with him began to avoid him as though he were carrying something distasteful and contagious to boot. It wasn’t a change he minded all that much.
Rukia was another matter entirely. For no reason that Byakuya could discern, she abruptly started dragging Renji home to eat dinner with them. Every. Night. Byakuya was, frankly, completely baffled. Why would he possibly want to inflict Renji on himself anymore than was absolutely necessary? And how was this supposed to help with his non-existent problem that had nothing to do with Ichigo’s absence? By the third time Renji joined them, Byakuya decided to keep his questions to himself. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear Rukia’s answers, anyway.
A week and a half after Ichigo’s departure, Byakuya spontaneously received a package from Captain Unohana containing a variety of calming teas. He chalked it up to the fact that she was the captain of the Fourth, and they didn’t always make sense to one who was not well acquainted with the ways of healers.
Two weeks in, Byakuya was called before Captain-General Yamamoto, who handed out the single most contrived excuse to get him into the living world that Byakuya had ever heard in his entire life.
He jumped on it like a starving man on a four-course meal.
As a matter of courtesy, he went through the Urahara Shoten gate, and greeted its maker on the other side. As a matter of pride, he did not run screaming when Urahara Kisuke cornered him the second his foot touched the ground and settled in for what looked to be a lengthy interrogation.
“Captain Kuchiki!”
Byakuya twitched and firmly reminded himself that someone showing him the proper courtesy due his rank and position was not a cause for alarm-even coming from someone as notorious for…bending the rules as Urahara.
“Urahara. Pardon the intrusion.”
“Not at all, not at all!” the shopkeeper caroled. “It’s nice to talk to people from Soul Society every now and again. Ichigo is just horrible at passing along the latest gossip, you know.”
Byakuya stiffened. “What purpose would be served by perpetuating that useless drivel?” he asked, a little more sharply than he intended.
“Aaaaahhhh-?” Urahara drawled. His voice was laced with a tone of concern, but his eyes were twinkling. “What’s this? I hope I haven’t offended…?
“No,” Byakuya forced out between gritted teeth. “You have not.”
Damn propriety, anyway.
Urahara’s smile somehow managed to be both gleeful and calculating. Byakuya chose not to speculate about what that might portend, because the shopkeeper was-unsurprisingly-not done talking. “Ah, good, good. I’d hate to think I was making you uncomfortable, talking about the juiciest piece of gossip to hit Seireitei since our dear strawberry first made his debut-“
Byakuya briefly weighed the composure expected of him against the need to preserve his sanity. He decided to interrupt. “Did you have a point?”
Urahara simply carried on as if he hadn’t been interrupted at all. “I do indeed,” he assured.
“And?”
“Oh, it’s nothing of any great import, really,” Urahara said breezily. Byakuya privately doubted that, and the way his interrogator’s eyes narrowed and his voice turned silkily dangerous proved him right.
“I was just wondering what could possibly bring you here, Captain of the Sixth Division?”
“Byakuya!”
Fortunately, Ichigo stopped short of throwing his arms around Byakuya right in front of Urahara. He stood close by Byakuya’s side, well inside the captain’s personal space like he belonged there. Byakuya tried to ignore his immediate, visceral reaction to Ichigo’s presence. He tried to pretend that Urahara hadn’t noticed. He suspected he wasn’t fooling anyone. His suspicions were confirmed when Ichigo took one look at his face, grinned and came to his rescue.
“Let’s go,” he said simply, grabbing Byakuya’s hand and turning to move away. They hadn’t gone more than three steps toward the door before Urahara’s voice stopped them.
“I don’t think you answered my question, did you, captain?”
“I am here because I was ordered to come. Nothing more,” he answered flatly without turning around. Ichigo took an abrupt step forward and his hand slipped from Byakuya’s.
“Come on, come on, we’re wasting time here,” he said insistently. He didn’t look or sound any different but something about him suddenly felt…off. Byakuya was so caught up in trying to discern the problem that he missed Urahara’s soft reply.
“So that’s the only reason, is it?”
4.
Every morning during his visit, Byakuya quietly shadowed Ichigo as he walked with his sisters to school, then settled onto the roof of a nearby building to wait. He wasn’t close enough to actually see Ichigo, but that hardly mattered. Ichigo’s uncontained reiatsu painted such a vivid picture that Byakuya might as well be sitting in the very next seat. About a week and a half into this new routine, Senbonzakura spoke up.
Is this the one to whom you wish to be bound, milord? he asked curiously.
I am bound by my duty, and by the vows that I have made, Byakuya replied.
I see, Senbonzakura said thoughtfully. He fell silent then, and Byakuya wondered just what that had meant.
5.
A few days later around the same time, Byakuya’s finely honed senses detected a new, tightly controlled reiatsu signature coming from the direction of the Urahara Shoten. He focused on it and suddenly, there it was-the salty smell of the wind off the ocean and the chill of deep water, backed by a feeling of force that almost knocked Byakuya off his feet. It hit him like a bolt of lightning and then backed away, giving him just a taste of the unbridled power of which its master was capable.
Ukitake Jyuushirou had arrived, and he was not happy.
Byakuya immediately stood and shifted into shunpo, heading for a more remote and private location than the middle of a school populated by ever-increasing numbers of students who could see him. Senbonzakura- he started, then stopped when he realized that he had no idea what order he had been about to give his zanpakutou.
I have informed Zangetsu that there is a matter you need to see to elsewhere. He has already informed Ichigo, who has indicated his willingness to help if need be. I assured Zangetsu that it would not be necessary.
I-see. Well done. Byakuya dropped out of shunpo at an unoccupied stretch of riverbank. He felt inexplicably relieved at Senbonzakura’s actions, but he pushed the feeling aside. Regardless of what Soul Society did or didn’t think about his and Ichigo’s relationship, he would undoubtedly have been informed if a problem arose concerning the substitute shinigami. He would likewise have been alerted if something came up relating to one of their enemies, and neither case would necessitate a personal visit from a fellow captain. There was only one other viable conclusion: whatever the reason, Ukitake was here to see him. Becoming distracted would not serve him well in this situation.
Byakuya braced himself just as Ukitake dropped out of shunpo in front of him. He drew his own reiatsu about him, both as a shield and a warning. The other captain’s eyes narrowed, but his expression did not otherwise betray the fury that radiated from his reiatsu.
“I did not come here to fight,” Ukitake said quietly. “I came here to talk.”
“I am listening,” Byakuya acknowledged.
“Be certain that you truly are, because I will not repeat myself.”
Byakuya stiffened, but nodded his assent. He did not wish to start a fight with another captain that he could not be assured of winning, not when Ichigo would surely sense it and try to intervene. Ukitake stared intently at him for a time, seeming to take some unknown measure. He apparently found whatever he sought, because he nodded slightly and continued.
“Do you know your intentions towards Ichigo?”
“I don’t believe-“ Byakuya started, but he was not allowed to finish.
“Do not deny this to me,” Ukitake said harshly. “You are fooling no one, Kuchiki Byakuya. All of Seireitei knows of your involvement, just as all of Seireitei can see your apparent disdain.”
Disdain? Why would he think…? Byakuya frowned in confusion, but chose not to interrupt.
His reaction did not go unnoticed. “You see nothing in your behavior that would indicate such a feeling, I see. Shall I take it that this is merely a brief affair? An outlet for physical release?”
Had he been asked that question at the very start, Byakuya would have said yes without hesitation. Now the suggestion felt almost like an attack. He felt his guard go up as if he were facing an enemy on the battlefield and had to take a moment to sharply rein in his wayward reiatsu before he could answer the question.
“No. That is not the case.”
If anything, that only made Ukitake angrier. “You continue to involve yourself with him beyond anything that might be blamed on weakness of the flesh. You claim to not be using him for your own pleasure. You make no effort to dispel the rumors that I have no doubt you have heard. Yet you still hide him from your family. You bar him almost completely from your home. You deny your involvement to anyone who asks, directly or indirectly. You treat him no better than you would a whore you picked up off the street. These actions are not befitting of a captain of the Gotei 13, nor of anyone who would call himself a man.” Ukitake’s reiatsu gained strength and fury over the course of his speech, like a hurricane that reaches its deadliest height just before it crashes ashore. His eyes reflected the cold steel of his still-sheathed blade, while his voice carried its lethal edge. Byakuya was frozen to the spot as he delivered the final blow.
“If this means nothing, then stop leading the boy on. If it means more, then give him-and yourself-the acknowledgement you deserve. But you cannot continue this charade that you have been enacting. It is beneath you, Byakuya. I expect better.”
“I…understand,” Byakuya replied, feeling just as shaken by the other captain’s words as by his menacing aura. “I will take your words to heart.”
Just like that, the storm was gone-put back on its leash to await a more suitable target. Ukitake did not smile as he took his leave, but had Byakuya been less preoccupied, he might have noticed a hint of relief in the other captain’s eyes. Instead, he simply dropped to the ground the instant he was alone.
Ichigo, he thought, is that really how I’ve been treating you? If so, then I must rectify it. But…how? What-what should I do? What do I want to do? Then, almost fearfully, What do I want this to be?
No matter how many times he asked himself, he couldn’t find the answers.
6.
Byakuya came out of his thoughts about the same time the sun went down, but that had less to do with the changing light and more to do with the large group of hollows that suddenly appeared in the direction of Ichigo’s house. For the second time that day, he found himself shifting into shunpo in a desperate race against the clock and issuing orders to his zanpakutou on the fly.
Senbonzakura, contact Ichigo’s zanpakutou.
Already done, milord. Ichigo has sensed them as well, and will meet you there.
Good.
They made it in time, but just barely. The following battle was like a blur to those watching it: Tensa Zangetsu’s speed and Senbonzakura’s shimmering blades joined in a beautiful, deadly dance that left their enemies in pieces.
But it was not without a price. For some inexplicable reason, one of Ichigo’s sisters ventured outside during the battle. One of the hollows, sensing an easy kill with innate spiritual power, targeted her immediately. Byakuya moved to eliminate the threat, Ichigo to protect his sister.
Even if he had been merely human, Byakuya had no doubt that Ichigo would have still gotten there first. The hollow’s claws pierced his back and penetrated completely through his body just seconds before the beast was obliterated. Ichigo staggered forward, sliding off the claws that were all that remained of the hollow with a wet, sickening sound. His sister screamed as he collapsed in a bloody heap at her feet and lay terrifyingly still. If not for the faint sense of his reiatsu, Byakuya would have thought him dead.
Byakuya’s vision went red with rage. He turned back to the hollows. “I don’t have time for you,” he snarled. They attacked as one, misinterpreting his warning as a weakness. He did not give another.
“Bankai. Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.”
It wasn’t a battle anymore. Those filthy hollows had tried to kill someone who Byakuya claimed as his own. He decorated the street with their blood. In seconds, it was all over. Byakuya quickly opened a gate back to Soul Society and carefully gathered Ichigo in his arms. He left without saying a word to the girl, or the rest of Ichigo’s family still inside the house. There was no time to waste if Ichigo was to survive.
If the preceding battle was a blur to onlookers, the desperate flight that followed it was even moreso to Byakuya himself. The next thing he saw clearly was a Fourth division shinigami taking Ichigo from him. Even though he knew it was the only way to save him, Byakuya didn’t think he could have let go without Captain Unohana’s steady presence waiting in the background.
He allowed another Fourth division shinigami to lead him off to get examined and cleaned up, but she probably could have stripped him naked and led him into Hueco Mundo without his notice. All his attention was on the faint flicker of reiatsu that was all he could sense of his lover. It filled his senses and he found himself unable to breathe easily until the small flame was fanned to life once again.
Eventually, Captain Unohana exited the room in which that flame now burned and made her way over to him, looking tired but relieved.
“He will live,” she said simply. “You may go in, but I must ask that you let him rest.”
Of course, he tried to say, and thank you, but nothing would come out. She smiled in understanding, and left him alone. Byakuya stumbled gracelessly into Ichigo’s room and sank into a chair at his bedside. For a time, he was utterly transfixed by the rise and fall of Ichigo’s chest.
He breathed. He lived. Those two facts had a profound effect on Byakuya’s perspective.
“When you wake,” he whispered, “we will have to talk. I do not wish to dismiss you, or to sever what has grown between us, though I suspect you may well believe so.” Somewhere, words existed that would fully define Byakuya’s feelings, but they remained far beyond his reach. His voice failed him. Byakuya reached out and laid his hand over Ichigo’s.
“Ichigo…I…I…”
“I know,” Ichigo said hoarsely. “I hate you, too.”
Byakuya flinched, suddenly afraid that it was already too late, but Ichigo wasn’t finished.
“But I lied about that before, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Byakuya smiled. “As did I.”
Ichigo smiled tiredly at Byakuya’s admission. “Good,” he said, “because it’d really suck if I was the only one in this.”
“You are not,” Byakuya assured, giving in to a nigh-uncontrollable impulse to brush aside a wayward clump of Ichigo’s hair. Ichigo briefly closed his eyes and turned into the touch.
“I’m not,” he breathed. “I’m really not.” The rise of his reiatsu, heralded by the scent of blood and the sound of driving rain, alerted Byakuya that Ichigo had solidified his resolve on something. He didn’t have to wait long to find out what.
Ichigo turned back to face Byakuya directly, and his eyes slipped up, away from Byakuya’s face. “I wouldn’t be lying if I told you I hated that, you know. I really do,” he said, as if it explained everything. Byakuya was confused until, in a flash of insight, the significance of Ichigo’s line of sight dawned on him.
“By ‘that,’ do you mean the kenseikan?” he asked cautiously.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“It marks you as a noble. As a Kuchiki. And you never take it off.”
Byakuya considered that. Ichigo was…upset that he was a noble? No, that didn’t feel right. In any event, it wasn’t as if his duty to his family was the only claim laid upon-wait. Claim. That was it. Ichigo wanted to claim him, visibly and unmistakably. He wanted a tangible reassurance that Byakuya truly wanted this.
Well, he wasn’t the only one.
“I am a noble. I am also a Kuchiki. I could never permanently lay those aside,” he warned.
“I know that!” Ichigo snapped, his famous hair-trigger temper finally rising to the fore. “I wouldn’t ask that! I just-“
“You want to take it off.” Byakuya wondered, briefly, if Ichigo could detect the scent of sakura blossoms and the feel of a warm spring wind, and if he knew what they meant.
Ichigo met his gaze without flinching. “I’m not asking you to be someone else, Byakuya. I’m just asking you to be mine, right here and right now, just between the two of us.”
It had never escaped Byakuya’s notice that his current lover was also one of the very few people to have ever broken the kenseikan in battle. Part of him had always known this moment would come. That part of him was unsurprised to find that he had already come to this decision long ago.
Byakuya bowed his head and allowed his lover to gently remove the kenseikan from its customary place. He sighed deeply and lowered himself the rest of the short distance to rest his head and arms on the bed. Ichigo laughed, a little shakily, and carded the fingers of one hand through Byakuya’s hair. He smiled, feeling his hair scatter from its usual strictly molded form under Ichigo’s touch.
You should terrify me, Byakuya thought, as he captured Ichigo’s unoccupied hand in one of his own. I wonder if I’ll ever find out why you don’t. Out loud he said, “I believe I will stay here a while longer.”
Ichigo’s answering smile seemed to light up the entire room. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You do that.”