Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. My clothes are thankful.
Sumary: Kuchiki Byakuya has defied authority to save those precious to him, and in return he lost his name, titles and even his home. All he has left is his crumbling dignity. AU-ish, because he never got kicked out of Seireitei. Ne, just imagine he helped save Rukia or something.
I reeally suck at titles. Suggestions for a better one welcomed.
For pride
Kuchiki Byakuya was not begging.
A man like him did not beg. Not when he was destitute and despised. Not even when his own actions made him worthy of nothing better than groveling in the dirt. No, Kuchiki Byakuya stood in his filthy corner, proud and straight, and accepted what any passerby might choose to give him. There were no words, no pleading looks. And they weren't necessary. Some were not perceptive enough to sense his magnetic aura; some were too perceptive and sensed the threat behind the tranquil façade.
But into the point in between, coins clinked and food fell and even the occasional piece of discarded clothing dropped. He treasured every cent, every morsel, and hated himself for it. Then another feeling came in to counter the hate, to remind him that he deserved to be pathetic and broken and starving, and should hate himself so much more.
He could have taken comfort, of course. Going against authority, he had recently learned, was not always wrong. He still had the appreciation of those who might claim to know him best. Many men had done much worse, and his he knew his betrayal was not a selfish one. And he had not fled, as others would have done. He didn't even think about it. But taking comfort was for lesser men. Kuchiki Byakuya faced the consequences of his own actions, no excuses. He didn't let himself doubt his own decision for one moment. He sometimes felt shameless for remaining so whole in the face of his dishonor, but he was made this way. Not even Kuchiki Byakuya himself could force him to lose the last of his dignity.
It was this wholeness, and the aforementioned aura, that sometimes drove drunken men and oblivious middle-aged women to offer him help, money, in exchange for some surely insignificant favours. He just stood there, serene, like a samurai at a tea ceremony. He offered them icy, despondent glances, and they hurried away.
Today was what he would have called a nice day, once upon a time. In that time, the sun would have reflected off all the white he wore. But now- all the sun did was highlight the shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. His hand went up automatically to his greasy hair, where his headpieces used to be. He suppressed a sigh.
On a day like this the blank, cloudless sky would have been a perfect reflection of his face and mind. It still reflected his face, but now in Kuchiki Byakuya's skies it only rained. Senbonzakura was gone too, and now he felt a little emptier inside.
Suddenly, like a blinding searchlight in the middle of a day that was already too full of revealing light, Kuchiki Byakuya sensed a familiar reiatsu. His lips tightened only slightly on feeling the spiritual pressure.
Hisagi Shuuhei, vice captain of the ninth division, turned the corner into the crowded street.
The lieutenant did not, could not know about the events leading to the ex-captain's destitution. The latter had kept his reiatsu shielded even after he was exiled from Seireitei, so Hisagi's presence had to be an unfortunate coincidence.
He was superior to this man. Not in rank any more, but still superior in many other ways. He would have found pitiful mocking painless to deal with, but he knew Hisagi wouldn't act so childishly if he saw him. He would pry, fake concern, use clumsy words and awkward gestures more humiliating for him than any mockery. Behind it all, worst of all, absurdly innocent and ill-concealed, would be the violent curiosity. After getting not a word from him, Hisagi would ask other members of Seiretei, and that would spell doom for too many people. He started measuring plans of action as Hisagi paused to chat with a street vendor.
Running away was out of the question.
He would not plead for Hisagi's silence. The man left the vendor and came towards him.
He could not explain everything and then swear the lieutenant to secrecy, because he would be putting those he tried to save at risk. Hisagi smiled and waved at a face in the crowd.
He could not attack the other man. The lieutenant stopped and helped a fallen child to her feet.
Pretending he was someone else, just another clueless tramp, seemed a crude and transparent attempt at a deception. Hisagi stepped back to let a woman rush past, inadvertently moving closer to Byakuya's side of the street.
He knew he should avoid being seen at all costs; hide. But that would probably involve running away at some point, and he was not ready to fall so low. The young shinigami was scarce metres away.
Byakuya's back was straight as he approached. That, and his darting eyes were the only signs of nervousness about him. He was almost out of options- almost. He only had a few seconds left.
Byakuya tensed, his lips narrowed a little more, his shoulders stiffened slightly. He let his face fall forwards, bangs obscuring his face, as he moved despising himself. He looked back once like a forlorn cat, before slinking out of view into the narrow alley behind him.
Uh... so I hope you understood what it was all about. I sure as hell didn't. I know it's really vague and kinda weird and maybe OOC. Perhaps I should have warned beforehand. Please review anyway, for good or bad!