Dear Reader, welcome to "Strategy and Tactics", a sequel to "Comfort and Safety".
Some of you have sent me mail with interesting questions regarding Gabriel. Sadly, there is no Gabriel in this fic – by the time I posted C&S on , S&T was already almost completed. However, I hear you – your ideas are interesting and your numbers impressive. There will be at least a one-shot featuring Gabriel coming up.
Thank you, everyone, for writing reviews. They encourage me to write, so if you want me to go on, keep reviewing! Also, my greetings to our global readership. When I look at story traffic statistics, it warms my heart to see that my words reach readers from all around the world. English is not my first language, either, and I feel deep kinship with anyone who attempts to read in anything other than their mother tongue
Here, Renji is a man of action and decides to actively pursue the man who drives him crazy in the most delightful way.
Chapter 1
There. Last form of the damage report was filled out. Renji's stomach grumbled, reminding him of the hour.
He stood up and stretched his arms toward the ceiling, loosening the knot in his upper back.
"Taichou, how 'bout I take the division report to the 11th? It's almost lunch."
Byakuya did not raise his eyes from his writing.
"Very well, Abarai."
It occurred to Renji that the "Very well, Abarai" was one of few sentences Byakuya would repeat as needed since they returned from their mission in the Living World. It was a bit of a brush-off, a bit of a cop-out, and a lot of denial of what happened between them. Renji didn't like the brush-off part much.
"You mind if I do some sparring after lunch? I'd take 2 hours, tops."
"Go right ahead, Abarai."
Another canned response. But Renji could reciprocate in kind.
"Thank you, taichou."
Byakuya raised his eyes only to see his fukutaichou's form disappear out the door. He sighed. Their relationship grew so strained, so awkward. Only the most necessary words were exchanged. Renji still seemed hurt by his rejection. He was still hurt by the necessity to reject Renji's interest. If they could only go to where they were before – hostile, competitive. That sort of tension was easily understood. It was absolutely nothing compared to the turmoil he experienced now. Knowing Renji would be gone for at least three hours, barely capable of keeping his eyes open after weeks of sleepless nights, he notified the 3rd seat to wake him shortly after lunch, and retired to his captain's quarters for a much-needed nap.
XXXXXXX
The 11th division felt informal and disorganized, like always. Yachiru, the pink-haired girl fuktaichou, bounced around the office while Ayasegawa Yumichika filled out her paperwork. "Oh, Eyebrows-chan is here! Hi Eyebrows-chan!"
"Got the damage reports for you." Renji tossed the bound stack of papers onto an empty corner of Yumichika's well-organized work surface.
"Ahh, thanks. Another consequence of our division's fight-hard, play-hard attitude." Yumichika's eyes brightened in a smile as he straightened the bound stack, making it parallel with the edge of his desk. The feathers above his brow swayed lightly.
Renji showed no indication of leaving.
"Something going on, Renji?"
"It's almost lunch. My treat? And maybe we could do some sparring afterward."
Yumichika's full mouth widened in a wicked smile. The invitation was unusual.
"Oooh, Renji, are you up to no good?"
"That's for me to know and for you to find out." Renji smile didn't make it all the way up to his eyes, and Yumichika thrilled to the air of adventure in the air.
XXXXXXX
"Your captain is a very esthetically aware man," Yumichika said, picking up a slice of sushi in graceful fingers. He dipped the fish end in a bit of soy sauce and eased it into his mouth with effortless elegance.
"You're saying I'm 'unbeautiful' for him." Renji scoweled,.
"No." Yumichika savored the bit of fish and rice, swallowed, and continued his train of thought. "I merely think you need to be less of a slob to have your beauty shine through. You do have some significant assets."
Renji tensed self-consciously under Yumichika's appraising gaze.
"So what do you suggest?"
"First, let's spar. Then we clean ourselves up and I'll come up with a plan for you to follow."
Renji's eyes brightened. "Thanks, Yumi, I knew you'd know what…"
"Wait," Yumichika halted him, his voice stern. "You want to learn from me, you must obey my instructions. To the letter. It won't always feel comfortable. You'll be out of your comfort zone, but you gotta do it anyway. Or, no advice. I won't waste my time on somebody who asks me to think for them and then just disregards what I have to say."
Yumichika daubed his lips with a napkin and ran his hand through his hair, making it lie in place just-so.
Renji sat in silence for a while. "You won't ask me to do anything embarrassing, right?"
"Not on purpose. It may feel embarrassing to you, at first. Point is, if you don't try, you'll never get past where you are."
"I'll probably regret this…but OK. Thanks, Yumi."
XXXXXXX
A sense of rejuvenation from their vigorous workout was followed by a clean rinse and a dip in the onsen. The hot water of the communal bath relaxed Renji's tight muscles. He dipped under, feeling the pleasant sensation of womb-like warmth.
Yumichika lost no time. He observed his new student with a check-list in his head. Haircut, manicure, pedicure, massage…inspect the wardrobe.
As he ran a tally of things to do, Renji submerged himself in the hot water, his hair floating on the surface like crimson silk. Yumichika smiled. This was going to be so much fun.
XXXXXXX
"But, Yumi, I don't want to have my hair cut."
Yumichika rolled his eyes. "I said, you do as I say. Besides it's just the dry ends."
Renji sat on a stool in Yumichika's kitchen, towel over his shoulders.
"Hold still. I'll take off only what I have to, no more."
Renji's haircut was halfway done when Ikkaku came in. He leaned against the doorjamb, eyebrows raised.
"How come nobody invited me to the party?"
"It's not a party. Renji just needs some help, that's all."
Ikkaku's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Help? From you, Yumi? What kind of help might this be?"
"Oh shuddup," Renji groweled. "I have this project going on and Yumichika is good at this shit."
"Oh let me guess. You want to be beautiful. You don't know this, Renji, but Yumichika's been trying to make me beautiful for decades. He even tries to make me wear stuff with flowers on it. Man…you're in for it now. Better you than me, though."
Yumichika put the scissors down and scampered over to his taller partner. He raised himself on his tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "You're beautiful all by yourself."
He grasped Ikkaku's chin and met his eyes, all serious. "This is a secret project, Ikkaku. Don't tell. Promise?"
Ikkaku looked at Renji once more. The redhead looked utterly miserable, perched on a stool, getting his hair trimmed for the first time in two years. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he wasn't smiling. There was a time Ikkaku felt that way, too.
"Allright – I'll tell only if the price is right." His voice was gruff, his eyes serious. "But keep me in the loop. I wanna be entertained."
XXXXXXX
"It's ugly and it's gotta go." Yumichika was adamant.
"It keeps the hair out of my eyes!"
"Do you want to be called 'pineapple' for the rest of your life?"
Renji clenched his jaw, muscles working. He did, after all, ask for help.
"I'll need a way to keep my hair outta my face when I fight."
"There are plenty of guys who fight with long hair loose." Yumichika sighed in exasperation. "Look now. Your hair is trimmed, washed, conditioned, dried, it looks like liquid fire. It's awesome. It's a total visual cue to attract attention. Isn't that what you wanted to do?"
XXXXXXX
Byakuya woke from his nap and looked around. Renji usually made tea this time of the day, but Renji was gone. Sparring, as he recalled. Byakuya stretched out in the quiet, private office. The paperwork was all caught up on after their absence and his body ached from being chained to the rigid, hardwood chair. A bit of sparring would do him good – if only he could find the time.
He finished the last brush stroke of the current report and he set the brush into the jar, moving the paper out of harm's way when the door opened and Renji walked in.
"Hello, taichou," he said, his greeting the same as always. Renji headed for his desk, seemingly oblivious to the open-mouthed expression his captain bore.
Byakuya could not help but stare. His fukutaichou…he must have changed into a clean uniform after his workout, but this uniform seemed fitted to him, sitting on his broad shoulders with comfortable ease. That was remarkable in itself…but the head-spinning feature was Renji's shiny, crimson hair. It slithered over his shoulders and down his back. The front strands were caught out of his face in a half-ponytail, bound in a thin length of black silk. The layers underneath undulated with every movement of Renji's frame. Byakuya surprised himself by a sudden urge to touch that silky hair. His hands still remembered the way soft strands slithered across the webbing of his fingers …
Quite inappropriate. Time to stop right now.
He forced his eyes to the next report, but his hands were empty of his brush as he breathed in and out, forcing his inconvenient feelings under the impassive Kuchiki façade.
Renji forced himself to keep his own face neutral as he felt a delicious, wild reiatsu disturbance from his taichou's location. He closed his eyes to see his reiatsu better. Ahhh…a few thin tendrils of energy were extended toward him. Renji, very daringly, allowed his own somewhat disordered reiatsu to escape. Pen in hand, seemingly focused on his work, he felt the tendrils of his flame-red reiatsu seek out Byakuya's all by itself, and he relaxed at the feeling of comfortable rightness as they touched, gently entangled. He could work better like this, anyway. Anything was better than that artificial, cold distance between them. Suppressing a smile, he frowned in concentration and got to work.
Within, Byakuya screamed in frustration. Without, his expression was somewhat peevish. He picked up his brush with the best intention of getting some work done. He felt his reiatsu flare, he felt Renji's respond, and he also felt their contact…but since Renji was apparently oblivious to it, Byakuya decided he can leave well enough alone. He could enjoy his fukutaichou's presence as long as it was accidental, he rationalized. It was a compromise, and perhaps not a very proper compromise at that, but it was surely better than alerting Renji to the fact that he failed to control himself and reached out for him.
XXXXXXX
The winter light passed, replaced by early night when their work was done and their stomachs began to clamor for their rights. Wet snow began to fall and the wind picked up.
"Abarai."
"Yes, taichou."
"Would you like to spar a bit before dinner?"
Renji eyed his captain.
"I'd love to, taichou. Let me get my bo." Renji stood and stretched out, his brush and ink put away.
"I meant with zanpaktou, Abarai-fukutaichou."
Renji walked over to Byakuya's desk and bowed, his loose hair swinging freely toward his captain. "I have sworn never to raise my blade against you again, taichou. Please pick some other weapon, any weapon of your choice."
Byakuya inhaled in surprise, catching a whiff of a warm, earthy aroma from Renji's swaying hair. He sat transfixed.
"Pick your weapon, taichou," Renji broke the silence, his posture erect.
Byakuya paused, a customary pause which served him well when he was at loss for words."
"A long staff would be satisfactory, Abarai."
Winter weather forced the use the indoor 6th division practice hall right down the corridor. Gas lanterns illuminated the room from wall scones, casting long, flickering shadows at the black and white shoji doors, the light wood-paneled walls. They both picked a 6-foot staff from a weapons rack.
"Won't you tie your hair up, Abarai?" Byakuya's voice held a tinge of curiosity.
"No…I'll try it like this."
"What prompted the change?" Byakuya felt a raw, possessive feeling expand inside him. A new feeling. An inconvenient feeling, for it reminded him of the times he got to see Renji with his hair down. He didn't see a reason why the rest of Seireitei should be extended the same privilege.
Renji glanced at him, his eyebrows even more expressive now that his exotic tattoos were no longer obscured by the white bandanna.
Renji didn't have a passable answer to his captain's question.
Because you think it's sexy. Because I want you to remember how much you liked running your hands through my hair.
Renji was shooting for a neutral reply. Something unrelated to Byakuya. Something…
"Yumichika told me it looks better that way." The words were out before he could check himself.
He saw a dark cloud pass across his captain's face. "If Ayasegawa-fukutaichou thinks it looks better that way, then by all means, wear it that way, Abarai-fukutaichou." Byakuya's mask was cold, his eyes hard.
They bowed to one another. Their staves clashed with ferocious force. The usual kata and slow-work, the painstaking dissection of individual techniques was thrown out the window that day. The strong, slim length of wood slid between their fingers as they adjusted their grip, dancing around one another; the lower end swept the knee, it tried to pierce the foot to the floor, it blocked another low attacks, making the offending staff skitter along the length of wood, not quite reaching the unprotected hands. Sneaky spins followed by cross-handed blows swept the bo up high, only to follow up with a strike to the open ribs. Head strikes barely avoided, throat thrusts deftly blocked aside and countered. A hand-strike breaking the grip – a weapon clattering to the floor – a graceful body leaping in a tucked roll to pick it up while getting out of the way of another curt, efficient attack.
The tip of Byakuya's staff grazed Renji's forehead and the redhead staggered back, his skin broken, red streaks oozing down over his eye.
"Wait." He called for a break, unable to see.
The sight of profuse bleeding stopped the action immediately.
They bowed to one another in thanks. Byakuya placed his bo on the weapons rack and left.
XXXXXXX
Yumichika was ecstatic.
"See, it worked. Good job getting him riled over the hair, Renji."
"How do you mean?" Renji mumbled, an ice pack on his patched forehead, his breath shallow to protect his broken ribs.
"He thinks we have something going on. He's jealous. You wanted a reaction, right? Well, you got one."
XXXXXX
Byakuya had the house healer tend to his broken hand and cracked ribs. He was bruised in more places than he cared to think about. And Renji…he probably fared no better. A sudden, painful memory lanced through his mind.
"I will strive to never hurt you again."
Renji kept to his own vow: he refused to raise his zanpakuto against his captain.
Byakuya, however, failed. He inflicted significant damage on his fukutaichou, damage easily avoided. It occurred to Byakuya that there were more ways to hurt Abarai Renji than just with Senbonzakura.
He failed to try hard enough.
Worse, he failed over…hair?