Author: Uchiha Yumi

Title: Christmas Blues

Genre: Angst, Romance

Summary: "Snow was covering the branches of cherry trees like the delicate veil of a young bride. Whiteness was blinding in its marvellous purity, the silence almost deafening" [Angst, Renji x Byakuya, hints of Byakuya x Hisana, lightly Shonen-Ai

Rating: T

Parings: Renji x Byakuya,hints of Byakuya x Hisana

Main Characters: Kuchiki Byakuya, Abarai Renji

Special thanks: A special thank to Lilya-chan and FunnyNeko, for reading and correcting all of my nasty stuff.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I tried to sneak into Kubo Tite's room and bribe both into having some "live action" in front of me, but evidently hiring a Kuchiki is more than I can afford in terms of money…

Notes: English is not my native tongue. Please tell me about my mistakes!

And, before you sue me for submitting a poem without quoting the rightful author...the poem is mine! Hope you will like it. Anyway, I hate Hisana. I know, I know...but this story came out like this. Please, read and review! And Happy Holidays.

Christmas Blues

Little Star of the piercing morning

Queen of a kingdom destined to fade

You'll die within the day that's coming

And leave behind a bleeding shade

Snow was covering the branches of cherry trees like the delicate veil of a young bride. Whiteness was blinding in its marvellous purity, the silence almost deafening.

He uncovered the cup by briefly swaying his hand, letting the impalpable vapour cloud up the panes dividing him from the outside world. As everything vanished into mist, his mind flew to faraway days of a beautiful spring. Through half-lidded eyes, snowflakes looked like falling petals.

Noblemen weren't made to bend to something as trivial as hating or loving the weather. Noblemen stood on a higher level, where few to no events held some importance and mourning was never allowed.

And so he never cried. He had buried his own wife without shedding a single tear. He had almost put to death his adoptive sister and his heart hadn't withered for a single moment. The unavoidable sense of emptiness was filled with self-control and rules to follow and when he started to suspect it wasn't enough to patch it up anymore, he just added more binding precepts to be faithful to.

In a busy heart, there wasn't room for pain, if not as an underlying but constant feeling of self-contempt which could be normally labelled as "righteous detachment".

However, sentiments were treacherous – it didn't matter how many efforts were made to smother them, they always came to the surface, sooner or later, and with a burden of unwanted consequences. Fortunately enough, it was a sort of seasonal happening for him – he could endure it all for many and many months, before a moment of weakness would trouble his perfectly planned way of thinking. It happened in spring, usually, or in winter – those seasons which reminded him everything was bound to come to an end.

Snow would usually soothe him. Snow made everything look white, blank as his blank mind when words and feelings refused to make sense in his logically-ruled perception. White was everything and nothing, now and never – pure like the purest loss a man could experience.

His green tea was bitter and he narrowed his eyes, observing how vapour was now trickling down the icy panes in shy, little streams of cold water. From time to time they would join their paths and walk together for a little while, other times they would just clash and fight till one would take over the other and run, feverishly, towards the end of their brief lives.

A nobleman's life was always a battle, to a certain extent. Inconspicuous drops of water were a perfect metaphor to depict how nothing seemed to fall into place in that thorny garden of pre-constituted behaviours – and, over years, he had learned how much those spiky little lumps could pierce his juvenile skin, were they disguised as blame, obstacles or inhibitions.

"Free will" was something he had been trained to forget about. Walk straight on and obey – make the best choices taking into account the past, present and future of a whole clan. And, as life painfully taught him, taking decisions for an entire family meant fiercely cutting through your own desires and aspirations, consciously putting yourself in the martyring position of a faithful tool.

Model of excellence, example of unblemished and righteous behaviour, he was meant to become the Northern Star for the future generations – in saecula saeculorum. And the price to pay for such refulgent immortality was one every warrior – every noble warrior, in particular – would have been ready to pay. Sacrifice your own life and gain eternity. A handful of years to reach the kingdom of timelessness. Who wouldn't rush and make such a promising deal?

Him.

Oh no, he hadn't been ready. Especially back then, when he was barely a child looking for love, praying in front of his parents' grave with shiny and sorry eyes, hesitating down the halls of a mansion which looked way too big and sterile for a frightened baby.

Not a sign of affection. Not a word of encouragement. He had been raised as an object. Asymbol. He had been raised to be perfect – to pour righteousness with every minute and planned movement he made, with every sentence, every meaningful and measured glance he blessed the outer world with.

Human nature is hard to change, however. It didn't matter how many buckets of icy water they tried to smother it with, that little, tenacious flame buried at the bottom of his heart would still resist, unchanged – until it busted out.

He had fallen in love – blameable. He had fallen in love with a Rukongai resident with no family name, no glorious past, no pure bloodline whatsoever – unforgivable.

For the first time he didn't care. For the first time he had felt steady on his legs and had abandoned the crutches of nobility, pride and precepts, finally seeing a light that felt familiar.

It had been fresh air in parched lungs – and with such a deep breath, he had found the will to speak up and claw the seemingly written pages of his life with fierceness and decision.

But, in a life which could potentially last many unhappy centuries, a 5-year-long breath was destined to dissolve and soon be forgotten.

People pass by. People vanish and die and all is left is the memory of a cruel flower that refuses to bloom and give her a last farewell. Pain had turned out to be overwhelming for who had never experienced a single feeling before, if not when instructed.

So he sank back into rules – he would grant her extreme wish and then bind himself in the choking but protective spires of what he had come to know so well.

Little Star of a world now over

I keep your memories dear to me

Cause they are going to be my cover

When in the nights I shall not dream

Like snow on a resting field, this self-protection had seemed to work. Fifteen years trying to never look back. Fifteen years of dreading the moments when his eyes would meet his sister's, for she was the perfect resemblance of something now gone forever.

Then, the storm.

It had started like the innocent rain of September and had turned into a downpour drenching his being and making his little certainties shake and crumble.

Life had pushed him down on his knees – for the very first time. Promises he shouldn't have made. Vows he didn't know whether to keep. The little flame was still burning, but was he going to follow its commandments?

Moreover, he had fallen in love again – insignificant, considering the current state of things.
It had been another Rukongai resident, another poor and undignified being surely not worthy to entwine any sort of relationship with his noble and pure family – predictable, to a certain extent. A man, his direct subordinate – scandalous.

New thorns adding in his garden of sufferance, new cuts for his bleeding soul, new attacks he should defend himself from.

But Little Star, you were never lone

Another one was conceived by you!
It struggled hard until it shone

And scratched with fangs the dreary blue.

Snow kept falling outside the porch, flakes still resembling cherry petals. His warm breath created little waves in the small, green ocean inside his teacup. The scented liquid was slowly cooling down and so the man's spiralling thoughts. Another year was about to end. Another season fading away. One day the snow would melt and vanish and real flowers would bloom on those desolate branches. The endless fight of his unblemished life would once again begin – new battles were awaiting him.

New objections to cut through, new bets to win, new sorrows to face. With the last sip of tea, a lone sigh escaped the Captain's lips. The sense of stillness was already quivering in feverish anticipation, the winter's inertia shook by electricity.

Would he feel alone again? Would he break under the weight of responsibilities like a delicate branch under a heavy snowfall?

"You're cute when you're thoughtful, you know?"

A quick turn of the head revealed a red-haired man wrapped in a white kimono standing, arms crossed and hands tucked in the sleeves to preserve them from the pungent cold. He was leaning against the door-frame, his luxurious hair dangling about his broad shoulders in deliciously messy locks whose colour reminded him of ripe cherries. He felt his inner self being intimidated by such a breathtaking appearance and his shoulders failed him for a moment, shivering lightly under the waves of emotions.

"Are you cold?"

He watched the other man fetch an embroidered, silken blanket, then leaning to wrap it around his shoulders. Their limbs touched for a moment, spreading a soothing sense of warmth throughout his body. He thanked with a tiny nod.

"Snow's beautiful, na Taichou? Makes everything look fine"

The younger boy's gaze was fixed ahead, apparently staring at the snow falling outside in the garden, but probably wandering beyond the high walls of the mansion and farther still.

A sense of peacefulness filled the nobleman's heart and he moved closer to his faithful companion, senses losing in his reassuring scent. He smiled, encircling his waist with his strong arm.

Fear, sorrow, memories – everything seemed to fade away in that loving display of the purest affection.

Efforts and fatigues didn't matter – in that instant, the world had stopped. They were breaking the chains of time – they were becoming immortal.

"This is the best Christmas of my whole life"

"Yes, Renji. It is"

And from the gash, the brightest light,

Like flowers on a crest.
I shall no more be scared of night,

My Star you may now rest.

Owari