Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Bleach.
Summary: Hostility arises when the noble head of the Kuchiki family takes a common woman for his wife. Slight AU.
Rating: T
Diminuendo
Prologue
Quick, careless hands grasped for the blue leather book positioned on the shelf.
"No," a hushed voice sounded as the book toppled to the floor with a thunderous "clap".
Furrowing her brows in distress, Rukia Kuchiki knelt down on the wooden floorboards. She was just about to reach for the book when she spotted a bundle of discolored papers lying nearby.
"Hugh?" she hummed softly. "They must have spilt out of the book when it fell," she thought to herself.
Her hand swiftly moved past the book lying open on its side, and reached for the papers.
Eyeing her findings with a discerning stare, Rukia noted that what she held lightly between her fingers was a stack of letters. The muffled sounds of paper scratching against wood filled her ears as she dragged the contents closer. Steadying herself by placing her spare hand against the floor to support her weight, Rukia leaned forward. She lifted the letters off the floor and brought them to rest on her lap.
Straightening her posture, Rukia shifted her weight from the hand she had been using to brace herself, and began untying the red string that held the stack of letters together. Carelessly, she discarded the string on the floor, and began sifting through the papers. Her eyes poured over the beautiful calligraphy penned in black over the now sallow-colored and worn pages.
"Brother?" she said softly, instantly recognizing the handwriting as his.
Somewhat intrigued as to what he could have taken the time to write only to stuff into a book to be forgotten, Rukia hungrily took in every character, every fine stroke he used to construct the words. Her eyes greedily flickered up and down the page.
It was not until she reached the second letter that she began to absorb some of what she had just read. Perhaps, she would never fully comprehend the meaning of the words written so boldly before her. Perhaps, she would never truly appreciate each subtly contained within the notes -- each word chosen for maximum effect with the deliberation her brother was well known for.
Her heart pounded at an accelerated pace in her chest as she sat indignantly on the floor. She raced through each page, soaking in everything she possibly could. Rukia's reading, however, was abruptly disrupted when she started at the sounds of leaves scraping against the pane of a nearby window.
Immediately, Rukia glanced over at the window to see that the once lazy afternoon had dissipated into dusk. 'How long have I been in here?' she wondered silently to herself as she stretched her tired arms and neck.
Sufficiently comfortable, Rukia returned her gaze back to the letters gripped in her hand. There was only one more left, and she still couldn't believe what she had just read. She couldn't believe that he had it in him to write so… so… lovingly – words of affection. She couldn't believe that hidden stashed in some random book was a clutch of love letters. It didn't make any sense, but just as sure as she held the papers in her hand were the words written thereon. And what words they were... His writings were never overly sentimental or flowery, but in their simple eloquence they contained a certain kind of beauty – honest, meaningful beauty. His words were never false, trite, or pretentious, nor were his meanings too candid or veiled. Whomever he was writing to, he clearly loved – loved greatly even.
Rukia smiled softly at the thought of the austere and aloof Byakuya Kuchiki in love. The musing itself seemed to be a violation of logic -- an oxymoron. Her smile widened as she considered the possibility of her older brother punch-drunk in love. But, this all begged the question: to whom was he writing these letters?
Rukia knew he was a widower. She had been told that he had been married to a woman whom she resembled. She had never been told, however, whether he loved his wife. She had been left to decipher his feelings toward this mysterious woman on her own. Rukia assumed that he must have cared for his wife somewhat to take her in solely because she reminded him of her. However, at the same time, Rukia wasn't sure if this was an action of love or extreme guilt on his part. But, if these letters had belonged to his wife, it would explain why they had been stuffed inside a book -- long forgotten in the Kuchiki library.
It would also explain why he refused to look at her.
Rukia felt her body go numb upon reflection.
'If I look like the woman he once loved…'
She lowered her gaze to the floor at the thought.
'…it would explain so much…'