No one is Sereitei could say that Byakuya was their friend. No, in fact no one could even say they knew the man well enough, let alone share a mutual bond. Of course that was not what he intended. But it was better this way.
At least that was what he told himself.
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
He was the head of the most famous noble house. He was the captain of the sixth division. He was duty-bound. People respected him. Some were in awe of him, some in fear, some just waiting to see him fall. As with anyone with such high status, there will be those who hope to see you falter, and get a kick out of it. Everyone had his critical eye on him. One little slip, and he knew the population of soul society would be in uproar. Had it been anyone else, said mistake would probably only warrant several raised eyebrows. But because it was him, The Kuchiki Byakuya, any response would be magnified tenfold.
And I have known the eyes already, known them all--
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
So what does he do? He doesn't make mistakes. He doesn't falter. His constancy was a comfort. His presence was support. His image, a symbol of fortitude. As such, he was just a figure to revere. Like a statue. But people didn't have high expectations from a statue. And a statue couldn't do anything to disappoint. That is why it is better if he didn't reveal anything and have nothing to reveal. Only that way would he have nothing to distract him, sealed completely airtight.
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
When you come down it, everything was rather simple, wasn't it? If you thought about things logically, lay them out on a table, everything fell nicely into a grid, didn't it? There are rules, and you follow them. There are expectations, and you fulfill them. There are duties, and you execute them with precision. Why would you do otherwise? Simple and clear cut, there was nothing else to it, really.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
Emotions? Relations? Such distant and unfamiliar words that was only uttered from his mouth as an inquiry, preceding slightly arched eyebrows and a smirk. Don't they know these only served to complicate things unnecessarily? That they only disrupt what you have laid out so methodically out on the table and cause the grid to squiggle and blur? Such concepts were useless and a hindrance. So what does he do? He does not associate himself with such abstract concepts.
At least that was what he told himself.
Maybe he didn't, because he couldn't. Held by the perception and expectations of others. Or perhaps he has lost the ability to. People learnt to adapt didn't they? Once beaten twice shy. But for him, maybe twice beaten, or thrice even. In any case, one too many. Yes, no mistake there. It was certainly lost, meaning there was something to lose in the first place. No one could say they knew this man at all. Only he knew the reasons, having experienced it all and remembered it all ever so vividly.