The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you will see. ~ Winston Churchill
Renji is proud of his past.
His past defines who is now, how he got to where he is in life. It is the road by which he's traveled that makes him who he is; the twists and the hills, the impossible length and obstacles. Renji is proud of his past because not many could have withstood it.
Renji is proud of it because of the people he's met on his way.
The friends he'd made in Rukongai are unfamiliar now. Their faces are blurry, their voices muffled with time. He visits their graves twice a year; once on the anniversary of him being accepted into the Academy, and once during Obon, the festival to honor the dead.
The only friend he has left of that time is Rukia.
After her, it was Kira and Hinamori, Rangiku and Hisagi. As Lieutenants, he identifies with them and their struggles. The Winter War has made their connections even stronger. It's been nearly fifteen-years since Aizen was imprisoned.
Renji is stirred from his thoughts when a new recruit from Squad Six greets him, bowing. He grins and waves, his mood lighter today than he's ever remembered, not since Rukia had decided to stay in the Seireitei after Aizen's betrayal.
He tugs at his uniform, smoothing out wrinkles and tightening his sash. His hair is carefully styled in its usual fashion. Renji still can't get used to his new reflection – two new tattoos have formed, jagged slashes on his cheeks to herald the new development in his life; Renji is now Captain of Squad Three.
Though he is now a Captain in both name and ability. Renji still respects and admires his former Captain, Byakuya Kuchiki. It's difficult to think of them as on the same level, after so long of serving him as a Lieutenant and comrade.
Renji takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He stands outside the door to Captain Kuchiki's office. It's just past three in the afternoon, and Renji suspects that Captain Kuchiki's paperwork is stacked in a neat pile on his desk, as it always is after completion. He'll have to send the Third Seat to deliver it, as he has not yet declared a replacement for Renji.
Lifting one hand, the redhead raps his knuckles on the door frame, swiftly and quietly.
He nearly jumps when Captain Kuchiki speaks from the other side. Even after all these years, Renji can't get over how much authority the man has over him. Entering the room, he sees Byakuya sitting behind his desk, papers stacked to one side.
In the middle of the desk sits a maroon colored flask of plum wine, two matching cups beside it.
It's quiet. Sunlight blankets the floor and walls, familiar to him as his own sword.
Captain Kuchiki folds his long hands upon the desk, peering up at Renji with calm gray eyes. Many say he doesn't have expressions. To most, Byakuya Kuchiki a man of few words and even fewer affections, no more welcoming than a winter storm.
It makes him laugh now, but Renji used to think that as well. Now he knows better.
Clearing his throat, he nods to the other man, unsure of what to do now. This awkwardness is unfamiliar, as if he's a newly recruited officer again, staring down the one man he hated the most.
Then, Byakuya gestures to the seat before the desk, and Renji's shoulders slump with relief. He smiles and takes the offered chair, straight-backed and elegant. He sits with his hands on his knees, chest out, chin up, respectful.
Byakuya's eyes lower slightly, and one end of his mouth twitches. "There is no need to look so tense, Captain. We're on the same terms now. If you sit any straighter, I'm certain your spine will break."
This wry sense of humor eases a chuckle from Renji, and he relaxes, combing a hand across his fiery hair. "It's so strange to be called Captain. I can't believe I finally did it. It's great to know all that hard work paid off."
Byakuya nods in consent, pouring Renji a sample of wine before doing so for himself. Renji politely takes it, its warmth and smell soothing his nerves. The taste is soft and fruity, and it tingles slightly as Renji swallows. It's no surprise that Captain Kuchiki picked the finest wine, and Renji feels a burst of warmth in his chest that has little to do with alcohol.
He watches as the other man drinks, sets the cup down and refills Renji's once again. Although it's been fifteen years since the War, Byakuya hasn't appeared to age a day. His dark hair is longer, now past his shoulders, but everything has remained the same; the scarf, the kenseikan, the Captain's haori.
Renji takes a deep breath and looks away for a moment. In an odd way, he takes strength in this subtle change; through the years, he's seen Byakuya as a distant stranger, to an enemy whom had to be defeated, a Captain and comrade, and now as a passionate, stubborn man only trying to do the right thing.
Indeed, while many others see little change, Renji knows of it, and appreciates it.
"You seem troubled, Renji."
Renji smiles guiltily. "I was just thinking about how the War has changed so many people. I apologize; I don't mean to be such a stick in the mud. Thank you for inviting me, Capt – Byakuya."
Renji cringes at the informality, a large part of him still unwilling to show disrespect.
Byakuya shakes his head, closing his eyes, hands on the desk. "There is no need to thank me – I thought it would be acceptable to congratulate you for the promotion in private. You are not the only one who has been thinking of change."
It was subtle, but Renji could see the man's expression soften, if only marginally; lowered brows and a slight tilt of the mouth. Anyone not so accustomed to Byakuya's mannerisms would not have caught it.
Renji frowns.
He has friends and people who love him, a fortunate, but not easy life – he has found all these things, and Byakuya has not. He may have had them once, but those things are gone. Renji does not find it difficult to believe how that would change someone so drastically.
He takes a draft of the wine, closing his eyes and clearing the melancholy thoughts from his head.
"I guess Rukia's doing alright? I haven't seen her in a while, since we're so busy. I hear she might be promoted to a Lieutenant soon."
A breeze rattles the doors, and a dog barks some distance away. Byakuya is silent for a moment.
"Yes. She's well, though the stress is taking a slight toll. She doesn't eat or sleep enough to my liking, but she's capable of dealing with it, and succeeding. I have no doubt of her promotion. Rukia will be in good hands under Ukitake's command."
Renji sets the cup down, turning it in his fingers. He bites his lip, before setting his jaw and looking into the other man's eyes.
"And you?"
Byakuya quirks one fine eyebrow. "What about me, Renji?"
The other man scratches his head awkwardly. "Well, what I mean is – what about you? What are your thoughts about all this? I mean," he sweeps his hand across the room, as if to illustrate his point, "all this change, Byakuya. It's been hard on everyone."
To his surprise, the other man grins. Not a smile, not a smirk, but a grin, however slight. It softens his face and adds light to his otherwise dark eyes. Renji stares, dumb-stuck.
Byakuya sets his flask down and crosses his fingers. "I rather like it, actually. Rukia is a true member of the Gotei 13 now, and a respected member of my clan. I am happy, and immensely proud of her success. She is – and will remain – my little sister, you understand. But she's becoming her own person, and I've accepted that."
Renji blinks and stares. "Oh," he says intelligently.
This time, the other man does smirk. "You have an incredible gift for linguistics, Captain Abarai."
Renji laughs, loud and honest, tipping more wine into Byakuya's cup. "I'll take that as a compliment, Captain Kuchiki. Thank you."
Byakuya nods, long hair falling over his shoulders. Renji looks at his lap.
His lips are dry when he speaks, and Renji feels his heart begin to race.
"Captain Kuchiki, if I may ask a personal question."
They look at each other from across the table, the sunset dividing the room into halves; one dark, where Byakuya sits, the other light, where Renji waits. Byakuya's voice is sure and unwavering, but Renji can see the hesitation in his eyes.
"Of course, Renji."
The younger man wipes his sweaty palms across his hakama. Though he tries to disguise it, his voice falters when he asks, "do you ever think you'll be happy again?"
For the first time since their fight when Rukia was imprisoned, Renji sees shock on the other man's face.
Byakuya pushes away from the chair, standing to look out the office window. With his back turned, Renji can see the Squad insignia printed clearly upon the haori, remembering staring at it with so much hate and admiration in the past. Now, it only makes him nostalgic.
Renji watches those long hands fold behind Byakuya's back, knuckles white, shoulders tense.
"You ask absurd questions, Captain Abarai. Be sure to improve upon that; the head Captain dislikes them."
Renji nods, silent.
"As for my happiness – I do appreciate the concern. But I'm afraid I cannot answer your question, Renji."
The younger man winces, feeling Byakuya's spiritual energy drop, the room going cold. The familiar, friendly atmosphere is gone in an instant.
"I was only concerned as a comrade, and as your former Lieutenant. My sincerest apologies if the question was too personal, Captain Kuchiki. I only wanted to know your thoughts on the matter."
He receives only a nod in consent.
Renji clenches his jaw and glares at his hands, feeling more foolish than ever. He's known this man for over forty years, and still can't seem to know how to act; like a colt learning to gallop for the first time, falling again and again.
Why does this man intimidate him so?
Byakuya is looking at him from over one shoulder, eyes heavy lidded and unreadable. Renji recognizes this mask, and knows he's been excused.
The other man clears his throat and nods, pushing the chair back in its place. His fingers linger on the wood.
"Thank you, Captain. The wine and company was a much needed break."
He receives a nod, and nothing more. Byakuya stands motionless as Renji turns, bows, and makes his way toward the door. Before he can open it, Renji hears the other man speak.
Byakuya's voice is softer than he's ever heard it.
"Don't focus so much on the doors that have already closed, Renji. You'll progress nowhere if you do."
Renji looks up, the sunlight in his eyes, the other man's shadow flung across the room. Standing there in half-light, Byakuya looks like any other solemn man, and Renji feels this advice is spoken from experience.
"I can say the same for you, Byakuya. Thank you again."
Renji leaves, and shuts the door behind him.