Pure luck identified the traitor. An unseated member of the 13th on a routine patrol ran into a boy with high spiritual pressure and the team sent to investigate immediately raised the alarm. After more than half a century the Shiba renegade was found.
As the only two noble clans currently boasting captains, it was left to the Kuchiki and the Shihōin to bring him in. Byakuya assembled a select force suitable for such a mission. Yoruichi sent only her lover and her third seat. It was an insult Byakuya would address in his own way at the right time. For now he had other concerns. Since there were human offspring involved, this had to be handled with care. Loose ends led to questions and Central 46 did not like questions.
In the end, it was all rather disappointingly low key. The shinigami arrived in the depths of the night expecting a high level confrontation and set up an exclusion barrier. What they found was a man with not even half the power he had as a captain. He was taken down in short order and the rank and file averted their eyes as the traitor was hustled out, Soifon the only escort required.
That just left the children. When Byakuya found them, Urahara was already sniffing around. He had the three of them on their knees on the living-room floor, trapped by kidō, and was muttering to himself as he twiddled the dials on one of his infernal machines. He hardly acknowledged Byakuya's presence and Renji had to clear his throat pointedly before the man turned a clever eye towards them.
"Ah, Kuchiki-taichō," he murmured, dipping obsequious little bows as he backed away from Byakuya's path. "Just trying to ascertain the level of threat. Shinigami and Quincy mixed, you know. The varying levels of power. Interesting, so very interesting."
Byakuya repressed a shudder. Urahara may claim the high ground over Aizen and Mayuri but he was no better in his habits. All three would tear the wings off a butterfly in the name of science.
"The 13th will take them," he told Urahara. They were the ones to make the original discovery, so in theory they had first claim on any bounty. It was a call that wouldn't stand in the long term, but would suffice for the moment.
Urahara twisted under the assertion, protesting the importance of his own humble interests and honestly Byakuya didn't care. "Take it up with your mistress if you so wish," he announced, turning his back on the third seat, implicitly dismissing him. He heard a sputter of protest, cut-off by the heavy thud of Renji planting Zabimaru in the wooden floor. A moment later they were alone and Byakuya could focus his attention on the children. Though in one case, at least, that was very much a misnomer.
The younger two were easy to deal with. Girls, on the cusp of early womanhood. One hung unconscious in her bonds and exuded less power than most commoners in Rukongai. Byakuya dismissed her. If necessary she could be left behind. The other, dark-haired and angry-eyed, had power inherited from her father. She was too dangerous to leave in the living world. Byakuya stepped forward, drawing Senbonzakura preparatory to severing her soul chain, only to find himself the target of a determined, if hobbled, charge by the eldest.
This was the one Byakuya hesitated to call a child; he was a young man with a shock of startlingly coloured hair, of an age to be enlisted and dressed in dark blue clothing with some undecipherable script emblazoned on the front. He struggled across the floor in an admirable, if rather ill-informed, effort to put himself between Byakuya's blade and his sister.
Byakuya side-stepped him easily and, with a flick of his finger, reinforced the kidō holding him down. The boy collapsed face-first on the carpet still spitting curses in Byakuya's direction. The reiatsu pouring from him proved he too would have to be severed.
"Taichō?" Renji said from the doorway. "You gonna split 'em up?"
Yes, that would be painful for his lieutenant. However these children would not suffer a commoner's fate if it lay within Byakuya's power to prevent it. Whatever name their father may claim for himself now, they were still Shiba by blood.
"I am thinking perhaps not," he said and turned his attention back to the girl with low levels of reiryoku. In the human world she was nothing; in Soul Society however she had the potential to be quite valuable. With the right marriages, she and her sister could be used to reinvigorate a clan left gutted by Isshin's betrayal and Kaien's self-immolation.
And the boy?
"Fucker! Leave them alone! You want a fight then fucking well face me, you asshole coward ghost!"
Well, he certainly had spirit.
Byakuya cast an amused glance back at Renji, who shrugged. Apparently he hadn't a clue how to proceed either. The vast majority of humans, when confronted by shinigami were too terrified to do anything but obey. There was no hint of obedience here. But perhaps a semblance of it could be enforced.
"You care for your sisters, I see," Byakuya stated, "as is right and proper in an older brother. Tell me, Shiba, how far are you willing to go for them?" The beginnings of an idea were starting to form. He had thought to place the boy with his sisters but it was just possible that he could provide the solution to a problem that had been brewing since Renji reached bankai.
He took a closer look. Beyond the fierce expression and the baggy clothing, the boy was not unattractive and appeared to be well formed. He was certainly strong. Yes, this could work.
"My name is Kurosaki," the boy spat, "Kurosaki Ichigo. I dunno who the fuck this Shiba guy is you keep going on-"
"Shiba is the name of your father's clan. The one he betrayed when he turned against Soul Society," Byakuya interjected. He was prepared to negotiate here but he would not be brow-beaten. "Thus it is also your name. I am however willing to call you Ichigo. Will this be sufficient compromise?"
Instead of an answer, he got a glower; one that was horribly reminiscent of Kaien. There could be no mistake as to this one's paternity.
"Where've you taken dad?" Ichigo growled.
"To Soul Society," Byakuya replied and, seeing little point in concealing the facts, added, "Your father is a convicted criminal sentenced to be interned for a thousand years in the great underground prison."
A choked off cry came from the conscious girl. The boy merely scowled more harshly. It was an unfortunate expression and one of which he must be broken at the first opportunity, Byakuya resolved.
He also recognized that the conversation was going nowhere. It was time to stop talking and start acting.
The kids probably didn't even see the sword that killed them, Renji thought as Kuchiki-taichō sheathed Senbonzakura and stepped away from the three newly severed souls now sprawling semi-conscious at his feet.
Renji hurried forwards, ready to grab the two littlest until taichō stopped him, saying, "No, the younger ones will come with me as previously planned. Complete our affairs here as quickly as you can and remove the boy to the manor. Brief him on what to expect. I will meet the both of you later in my private rooms." He grabbed the two girls, one under each arm and strode from the room in a swirl of cherry-scented silk.
"Taichō," Renji bowed after him and, in passing, flicked another kidō at the ginge who'd struggled to his feet yelling about saving his sisters. He nose-planted immediately.
The manor, eh, and taichō's private rooms. Renji gave the kid a narrow look then left him to it, calling in the third seat to organise the clean up. The bodies had to be relocated back to bed and all evidence of anything out of the ordinary destroyed. Setting a fire seemed the obvious thing to do. He'd spotted some kind of workshop in the back so an accident there would fit the bill nicely.
By the time Renji got back to the kid, he'd crawled halfway to the door and his face was beet-red. Interestingly his reiatsu was already rising and Renji took a second to realise just how strong he was going to be. Hellishly; perhaps even stronger than him.
Was that why Kuchiki-taichō wanted him? It'd make sense. He'd already promised Renji a shot at a captaincy as soon as they could work out which one might be vulnerable. Renji fancied his chances at the 9th. Muguruma might be strong but that run in with Aizen did something to him. Plus his fukutaichō was a flake and if he timed it right, he could take her out of the picture leaving himself a clear run at her boss.
Not that he'd try it without Kuchiki-taichō's say so. He was no Kaien, stupid freaking fool. All he did was leave his captain without anyone to watch his back. Ukitake had to pull in favours from the 4th to get someone halfway competent to replace him.
"What'd you say your name was again?" he asked the kid who was almost close enough now to gnaw on Renji's toes and, going by his expression, just might try it. Renji poked him with his foot, rolling him onto his back, which couldn't be comfy with that amount of kidō wrapped round him. He had to arch his hips to keep the pressure off his arms, a position that brought a smirk to Renji's face.
The kid glared up at him. Those were good eyes, Renji mused. Bright and full of emotion. Most of the shinigami Renji knew were kinda cold. Taichō was unusual that way and even he didn't show that side to just anyone. Renji was privileged.
"Where's that asshole taking my sisters," was the only reply he got in answer to his, perfectly polite, enquiry.
"That 'asshole'," Renji replied pointedly, "is Captain Kuchiki. And probably the 13th."
The kid slumped onto his side, glower gone. He looked knackered, his face open and vulnerable, almost pretty. Renji wanted to eat him up. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," the kid was saying, "but just tell me no-ones gonna... I don't know, molest them or something?"
"Not over there. They might be loony-toons but Kira's an okay kind of a guy." Renji hunkered down next to him. If this one was gonna be taichō's next protégée, he supposed he'd better make nice. "So you gonna tell me your name, or what?"
Eyes the colour of sweet dark honey rolled in his direction and a pink tongue flashed out to wet dry lips. "Ichigo," the kid said, "Kurosaki Ichigo."
"Glad to make your acquaintance," Renji replied with a nod, remembering his manners. "Abarai Renji, lieutenant of the 6th division."
"Of what?" the kid asked and when Renji didn't jump all over the answer, added with increasing volume, "6th division of what? 13th of what? I dunno who the fuck you guys even are! You just broke in here in the middle of the fucking night, dragged my dad off and then-" his gaze flicked over to where his body had been, "killed me and my sisters and now- What the fuck is going on?"
That last came out in a rushing yell. Renji could sympathise. It might be years ago now but he still remembered the night the shinigami came to Inuzuri hunting down kids with decent levels of reiryoku. He remembered being terrified and hiding from them, doors being smashed down and people screaming and fighting. He remembered being grabbed and hauled away from the only family he'd ever known and carted off to the camp. He hadn't known what was going on then and it had freaked him out. He guessed Ichigo must be feeling much the same way now.
"We're the 6th division of the Gotei 13," he offered. "That's the shinigami army of Soul Society, which is where souls go after they die."
Ichigo blinked at him. "You're shinigami?"
"Yeah, and so's your dad. So I guess that makes you half-shinigami too." And half-Quincy but Renji hadn't a clue what one of those was, so he didn't mention it.
The glower was back though this time it was more confused than angry. "The old man's dead?"
"Eh, more like was never alive in the first place. He's a Shiba." When Renji realized that probably wasn't going to help, he added, "That's one of the noble clans, like the Kuchiki's; taichō's family. It means your dad didn't have to die to get into Soul Society, he was born there."
Ichigo stared at him like he'd gone insane. "My old man was born dead," he said in a flat voice.
Renji chuckled nervously and scratched his cheek. He hated it when things got technical. "I know it sounds nuts, but that's how it works, okay. They're new souls or something. I dunno. It's complicated and it's not like anyone's jumping up and down to teach you about shit like that."
The kid turned away and Renji realised he was staring at a picture on the far wall. It was of a pretty woman with hair almost the same colour as Ichigo's. His mother? That would make her the Quincy. Huh. She looked like an ordinary human.
He was about to ask Ichigo if he was gonna do something stupid if Renji removed the kidō, when the kid said, "And me? What's at the manor?"
Apparently he was awake enough to hear that. "That's Kuchiki-taichō's home," Renji explained. "I think he wants you to work for him, like me. He does that, picks promising kids and trains them up himself. Most division captains do." Having said that, if Ichigo was gonna be groomed for Renji's spot, his training was gonna be a bit different from the rank and files'.
"That..." Ichigo wrinkled his nose, "doesn't sound too bad actually, you know, considering he's the guy who killed me." That came out with a crack of anger. Yeah, kid was still pissed.
"He had to," Renji explained. "Cause of your dad, you've got high spiritual pressure and it's attracting hollows and starting to affect the folks around you."
"Hollows?" Ichigo was staring at him all confused again because of course he didn't even know that much.
Renji sighed. He'd had enough of squatting on some living-room floor having a non-conversation with someone who knew shit about nothing. "Tell ya what," he suggested, "Let's save the debrief for when we get to the manor. Now I'm gonna loosen this kidō. You do anything dumb and I'll knock your block off, deal?"
As he followed the shinigami around his own home like a dog on a leash, Ichigo was starting to think his brain might be broken. A huge part of him was just not prepared to accept this. He couldn't be dead; he was still breathing, still walking, still talking. And yet he'd seen his body. Seen them drag it out of the room and up the stairs. Consequently he was swinging wildly between a rational faith that he was going to wake up any second and a gut level understanding that this was real, there was no going back.
They stopped outside Ichigo's bedroom and, while Abarai talked to this little dot of a woman who he called Hisana, Ichigo studied the tag that'd been hanging on his door for forever and felt like crying.
But he couldn't. He couldn't cry and he couldn't give up like some loser. He might be dead, but he still had responsibilities and his mum would never forgive him if he let anything happen to Karin and Yuzu, so he shoved the fear deeper inside, grit his teeth and asked, "Any chance I can grab a couple of things?"
Abarai and the woman stopped talking to look at him. The woman's eyes were huge and violet blue, and cold, so cold. The shinigami were human shaped but Ichigo could never mistake them for human. The only ones who showed anything like emotion were Abarai and the guy who killed them, Kuchiki. All the others looked at Ichigo like he was some kind of bug. He wanted to yell at them that he was a person, that he deserved better, but he had a sneaky feeling they wouldn't hear him if he did.
He still had his hands bound behind him by whatever magic these guys used, so he couldn't open the door himself. He jerked his chin at his bedroom. "In there," he said.
Abarai's eyes flicked to the room and back to him then he sighed heavily. "Okay, just no funny business, all right," and the bonds around Ichigo's wrists vanished. His arms fell to his sides and he reflexively rubbed his wrists. When Abarai carried on with what he was doing, Ichigo took it as tacit consent to move, so he opened his bedroom door and slipped inside.
It was dark. He couldn't see much but he didn't need to. Didn't want to. He knew what was in the bed and he had no desire to see it again.
Anyway he knew what he was here for and it was in the bottom of his closet in a box. His dad gave it to him years ago. It wasn't much, just a stupid charm, but dad had said that it belonged to mum and that she'd made it for protection. If Ichigo was ever going to need it, then now was the time.
He dug for it, tossing aside old manga and several pairs of shoes along the way, and found it nestled in the corner. He was scooping it up when his fingers tangled with something else, something metallic; Chad's coin. Ichigo picked them both up, and dangled the coin by its chain so it reflected the dim light from the window. If this Soul Society place was where people went after they died, maybe he'd run into Chad? That'd be cool, he decided. He missed the big guy and with Chad at his back, maybe he could get Karin and Yuzu back. Free his dad.
For the first time since the blade pierced his soul, Ichigo felt hope swell in his chest. Maybe even a plan.
He managed to grab Karin's football and the stuffed lion he gave Yuzu a couple of years ago and then Abarai yelled that they're leaving.
He was still in denial – wondering where the cameras were, and his dad with the party hats and the 'surprise!face' – as they gathered in the road outside the clinic and Abarai stuck his sword into nothing and conjured a gate out of thin air. When flames started to lick the roof of Kurosaki Funeral Services and he was shoved towards the gate, he started to think that maybe the prank was getting a bit out of hand. But it wasn't until he stepped into darkness, leaving behind the only world he'd ever known, that Ichigo actually started to believe that this might be real.
The heat hit him like a smack in the face as, a moment later, they emerged into bright sunlight and gardens that'd look right at home in the touristy areas of Kyoto.
"I guess we'd better drop this lot off first," Abarai muttered glumly. Ichigo assumed he was talking about the other shinigami who'd come with them through the gate which, to Ichigo's bemusement, was guarded on this side by a couple of guys in ninja costume.
"I'll handle that, sir," Hisana said with a stiff bow. She shot a glance at Ichigo. "From what taichō said, it might be wise to keep this one out of the Seireitei proper."
"Good point," Abarai agreed, "Well, if you don't mind, back to base and reports by sun-up?" He waved a hand at the gang of shinigami loitering close enough to eavesdrop.
"Not at all, sir. We'll see you tomorrow morning at division HQ." With a final bow, she turned to the rest and snapped, "You heard the fukutaichō. Move it, move it!" Her voice might not be loud but she sounded convincing, Ichigo thought as he watched them all trot obediently off up the path.
Abarai huffed a laugh and shook his head as he turned away. "Reckon she's after coming with me," he said conversationally as he started up a wide stone walkway that led in a completely different direction. "Wouldn't mind her, I guess, she's good at what she does but I dunno, there's something about her. Her and her sister." He shuddered. "Like two creepy peas in a pod."
Ichigo followed silently, intent on every move Abarai made. With the rest of the shinigami gone, he was alone with the guy for the first time and he took the opportunity to really look at him. Hair an even stupider colour than his own in a thick braid almost down to his waist, and tats on his face and neck and chest, made him look like a yakuza at first glance, and he carried himself well enough to pass too. Plus he was big. Muscled. Still way smaller than Chad though, Ichigo thought, narrowing his eyes as he measured stride-length and gait, and he used to be able to take Chad in a spar. This could be an chance to get away.
And go where? That was the problem. Ichigo turned his attention to his surroundings. The gardens stretched off in every direction with no end in sight. If he ran he'd probably end up running straight into the guards or something dumb like that. "Where are we anyhow?" he asked in the hopes of getting a helpful answer.
"Eh?" Abarai said glancing back at him and then around at the trees, grass and flower beds. "Oh, this is the Kuchiki manor." He stabbed a thumb back over his shoulder in the direction they'd come from. "Being as how it was family business, we used the private senkaimon here and..." His voice trailed off. "Yeah, okay, that's not gonna help is it. Lemme give ya the run down as we walk. Better to know what's what anyhow. Might stop you from sticking your foot in it every other step."
And so, as they made their way past stands of strictly trimmed evergreens and discrete pagodas and deep ponds full of ghosting pale shapes, Abarai continued the explanation he'd started back in Ichigo's living-room. He talked about the Gotei 13 and hollows and pluses and how shinigami cleansed them and sent them to Soul Society. About Seireitei, which was where they were, and Rukongai, which was where Abarai came from originally and sounded like a dump. And then he started on about noble families and something called Central 46, which seemed to be the government, and someone called the Soul King, and just when Ichigo'd given up the will to live, he finally got onto something useful.
"The Shihōin have the 2nd, the Kuchiki the 6th and the Shiba, that's your lot, always used to hold the 3rd. Course there's none of 'em up for it now, so it's gone to that creep Ichimaru."
"Divisions are passed down through families?" Ichigo interrupted.
Hope got its second wind when Abarai replied, "Yeah, I guess. 6th belongs to the Kuchiki, always has. The last captain was Kuchiki Koga, taichō's uncle, and the one before that was Kuchiki Ginrei, his grandfather, so yeah, handed down."
"And you're what," Ichigo asked, "Some kind of glorified bodyguard?"
"I'm a fukutaichō, so..." Abarai barked a laugh and counted on his fingers, "Watching the captain's back, making his tea, filing his paperwork." He glanced at Ichigo. "Training his newbies. All in a day's work for a lieutenant." His eyes softened but filled with resolve. "I do what taichō tells me. He's not perfect but compared to most of the others, he's a good guy. You should give him a chance."
Ichigo hardly heard him. If Kuchiki needed Abarai as a bodyguard then his theory was sound; in Soul Society 'captain' was an hereditary title like 'prince'. Ichigo's pulse raced in his ears. There was still the magic. Kuchiki'd proven good at that and so had Abarai, but if he could catch them unawares, maybe he could get past that, take them both out before they had a chance to use it on him.
They turned a corner and a vast complex of buildings was suddenly visible through the trees. Even though it looked deserted, somehow Ichigo knew it was bustling with shinigami. They were emitting some form of energy, he realised. He'd been sensing it on and off since he died, but here in Soul Society, it was making those who had it stand out like flickering LEDs.
Did Kuchiki do that? Ichigo didn't remember. He shot a glance at Abarai. The guy had a bit of power but not as much as the ninjas by the gate. Despite the tattoos and the attitude, Abarai described his job as more personal assistant than bodyguard, so that made sense; it was probably something their top fighters had more than anyone else.
Ichigo's heart sank. If he was going to a house full of people with that kind of power, it wouldn't matter if he took out Abarai and his captain, he'd be defeated by the guards.
"Taichō's private rooms are down here," Abarai said gesturing to a path leading off to the left. "He's got a separate complex. Says it stops his aunties sticking their noses in where they're not wanted. Can't say I've ever noticed it working. Load of busybody butterflies they are."
This new path wound back into the trees, away from the house and the guards and all the people with that glowing flickering power, and Ichigo was starting to get emotional whiplash from having his hopes alternately dashed and realised. Alone with Abarai and Kuchiki he was as good as free, he was sure of it.
Now if he could just find out where Karin and Yuzu were, maybe he could find them after he'd taken down Abarai and his captain and then do a runner. Somewhere they couldn't track him easily like that Rukongai place, Abarai mentioned. It sounded rough but Ichigo got the impression there weren't many shinigami there. He didn't know what they'd do then, but there had to be something. He had to believe that or what was the point in anything.
Biting back incipient hysteria, he asked as innocently as he could muster, "I wonder what Karin and Yuzu are doing?"
"Probably getting fed candy by Ukitake-taichō," Abarai replied with a chuckle. "Now he's another nice guy, so long as you catch him on a good day. Connections with your family too. Lemme see, your dad was brother to Kaien's great grandfather, so that makes Kūkaku your..." His feet slowed and his frown deepened. Then he shook his head and picked up the pace again, "Some kind of cousin I guess. I dunno, it gets complicated for a guy like me."
"A commoner?" Ichigo asked because honestly he hadn't a clue what Abarai was on about, he was just hoping the guy'd let some useful information spill. He was certainly not hard to keep talking. Stopping to catch your breath was as good as an invitation for Abarai to start chatting again.
"Yeah, from Rukongai." Abarai huffed a small breath through his nose. "No family at all, see. Least not that I ever found. Think I might have had a mum once. I dunno, it kinda fades after a time."
"You mentioned that place. Big is it?" The bigger it was, the better Ichigo's chances of disappearing into it.
"Fuckin- flipping huge," Abarai corrected himself at the last moment, colouring slightly round the ears. "Seireitei's an island surrounded by a honking great big sea of Rukongai. It's rough an'all but most folks don't care so long as there's water and stuff to keep 'em busy till they move on again."
As they talked, another building appeared in the distance. This one really looked empty. Ichigo devoured it with his eyes, trying to remember everything he'd ever learned from TV about assassinations and infiltration. Then something Abarai had said registered as wrong. Ichigo frowned absently as he corrected him, "Food and water, you mean."
"Nah, just water."
Ichigo shot Abarai a shocked look to find the guy smirking back at him. "People don't eat here?" If they didn't that was a whole weight off Ichigo's mind. Especially if what Abarai said was true and water was easy to find.
"Not the folks out there don't. Just us shinigami."
Abarai looked too pleased with himself by half. Ichigo rolled his eyes and ignored him like he would Keigo when he thought he was being clever. "So," he said, changing the subject and getting them onto to something that might prove useful for his escape attempt, "Want to tell me what to expect when we get where we're going?"
"Eh," Abarai said as he started up the front steps of the long low traditional style building, "Taichō'll want both of us tonight. After that, guess we'll have to see what happens."
By the time Byakuya had dropped the girls at the 13th and stayed the minimum length of time good manners dictated, night had fallen and he was eager to get home. He entered his chambers to find things had started without him. Renji was nude, had the boy on the bed, and was buried deep inside him, head tipped forwards and hips flexing. He could only have used the simplest of bindings as no trace of kidō lingered in the air, and Byakuya could not help but feel Renji was being overconfident. He may think he had control, but the Shiba are all stubborn to a fault. Total submission will not be won so easily.
Despite his reservations, Byakuya took the time to admire the view as he carefully placed Senbonzakura into its stand beside Zabimaru. It was entirely worth the effort; his fukutaichō was always magnificent. There was a feral beauty to him which drew Byakuya the first time he saw him, out there on the proving grounds. That day Byakuya had answered the challenge of three other captains to bring this one into his fold and he'd not regretted it a moment since.
Here tonight, he had even less to regret. The Shiba boy... No, Kurosaki; that was the name he claimed; was all lean lines and wiry muscle. Together, he and Renji were a study in contrasts.
Bare feet silent on the tatami, Byakuya stepped further into the room, allowing the light of the lamp to fall just so across Renji's skin. The gleam of rolling muscle was accentuated by dark lines of ink that crested and fell into sinuous writhing patterns over every inch of his body. Byakuya was intimately acquainted with each one, having spent gold on the work himself when he felt indulgent. And taken the payment back in kind when he hadn't, passing entire nights mapping every one with his nails and tongue while Renji begged for relief.
Kurosaki was spread wide beneath Renji, hips held high, his spine a shadowed line dipping down to shoulders curled with tension. Sweat beaded across his pale skin and his ribs heaved with every gulped breath. His hands stretched above his head, each muscle strung tight, though the detail of the binding was covered by the same pillow that hid the majority of his face. The rest of that was obscured by his hair, a shock of orange that managed to be a brighter shade than even Renji's.
But it lacked the bloody taint which Byakuya adored and it was that crimson mane which, loose and wildly tangled, proved Byakuya's undoing that night. It sang a siren song he could not resist.
Three long strides brought him to the edge of the bed and he snagged his fingers in that glorious hair and tugged. Renji groaned, arching back into the grip in a way Byakuya knew was as much genuine desire as it was artifice. He had noticed Byakuya's presence, of course; a fukutaichō was always aware of his captain's location, his whim, his desire. That was his role and no other.
He stooped to take possession of Renji's mouth, demanding entry and relishing his immediate surrender. The kiss was hot and wet and the passionate promise of it was enough to make Byakuya's heart bound in excitement. He tightened his fingers, digging his nails into Renji's scalp, feeling the warmth radiating from his body as they pressed close. His other hand curved a path down Renji's neck, his thumb accurately tracing ink-black lines with no need to consult his eyes. When he reached the swell of pectoral muscle, he flattened his palm, feeling a pebble hard nipple brush against the heel. His nails scratched downwards leaving red traces in their wake, bringing his fingers within reach, until he could pinch and twist and tug, until he could make Renji squirm and moan and pant into his mouth.
A moment later an answering groan came from the bed that sounded far from unhappy. Byakuya smiled and nipped at Renji's lower lip, hearing the moan again, this time accompanied by a muffled gasp. The boy had to be reaping the benefit of Byakuya's attentions second hand. It was intriguing and Byakuya deepened the kiss as much to hear that sound again as to enjoy the slide of tongue against teeth and the hot puff of Renji's breath on his cheek.
He sensed the sharp flare of reiatsu and caught the boy's hand even as it swung. Byakuya's reflexes were excellent, honed by years of Senbonzakura's demanding speed, yet the dagger-sharp shard of wood that was heading for his eye missed the juncture of his fingers by only a whisper as they snapped closed around the boy's fist, and when he turned, the tip brushed against his hair. He invoked sai with his next breath, sending Kurosaki crashing to the bed, arms locked behind him and curses falling from his lips. A second bakudō silenced him.
Renji tumbled backwards with a choked off, "Fuck!" his expression open and shocked at the close call.
Byakuya lifted an eyebrow, adjusting his haori as he rose. He was not surprised by the boy's actions, having expected something of the sort from the very start. Kurosaki might be a new soul but he was descended from a long line of Seireitei's finest. To capitulate without a fight had seemed immediately suspicious. Still his technique had been sloppy and showed a distinct level of desperation. Perhaps his apparent enjoyment in the moments before the attack had not been as feigned as Byakuya had initially thought.
He turned his back on the bed and paced over to his table turning the shard of wood between his fingers as he went. Traces of blood showed along the raw edge. Blood that was not his own. Some might take that as a warning and bring this encounter to a close. Byakuya had never believed in taking the easy option and his determination to keep this one and win him over grew exponentially at the discovery. But he did not want to risk breaking a potentially valuable young man. He would rather mould him. In Byakuya's experience, that was simply a matter of finding the correct combination of levers and applying them in the right places. And he thought he may know which would be the most efficacious in this case.
Renji was still on the floor, propped up on his elbows, legs sprawled apart, his erection visibly wilting. He was staring at the snarling boy in complete disbelief. After a moment or two he sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face in an obvious attempt at re-centering himself and then clambered to his feet muttering, "The hell he get a thing like that anyway?"
"I would suggest he pried it free of the floor," Byakuya replied tossing the wood over to Renji and gesturing to the streaks of red along the boy's back from his ripped fingernails. The blood had also left marks on Byakuya's tekkou. He frowned in annoyance, stripped them off and dropped them to the floor as he continued, "He seems not to have been as immersed in your activities as you were."
Renji blanched at the implied criticism as well he might. Byakuya turned away to conceal a slight smile at his plight, unwinding his scarf and draping it across the clothing chest. He was not by nature cruel but teasing Renji did have its benefits. "I may be prepared to forgive," he suggested at last, sinking to his knees in front of his dressing mirror. "If you give me an adequate enough show." As he spoke he began unravelling the kenseikan.
Behind him Renji scrambled to obey, leaning over Kurosaki, grabbing his hair and whispering something urgently into his ear. From the aggressive shake of his head and deepening scowl on his face, Kurosaki was still not feeling co-operative. Perhaps now was the time to finish the conversation they started back in the living world.
"Kurosaki Ichigo," Byakuya said, and the boy's eyes searched out his in the mirror. Renji had hauled him up onto his knees, forcing his torso into a sharp bow around his bound arms, and he was glaring in a way that promised death should he win himself free. Byakuya ignored it and continued speaking as he systematically worked on the next set of threads.
"Your sisters are safe for now, this much I can promise. However their future, and yours, depends entirely upon your co-operation. I trust the implication of that is concise enough for you."
"Fuck you!" the boy spat the second the bakudō silencing him was lifted, despite Renji's warning yank on his hair. "You and your magic! You're screwed without that! A weak-as-shit aristo who can't do fuck-all without his bodyguard."
Byakuya's hands stilled in his hair and his eyes slid to his fukutaichō seeking some explanation for this unlikely outburst. "Renji?" he asked with enough of a lift to his voice that Renji paled still further.
"I dunno where he got that from, taichō." Renji's words fell over each other in their urgency to escape. "I swear I just answered a couple of questions, filled him in on a couple of things, that's all."
"And yet he appears to be under the impression that I am in some way inferior to you." Was there a chance Renji took the opportunity to try and suborn the boy? Worse, was he trying to take the 6th? No, that Byakuya could not believe. The idea of Renji turning against him was unthinkable, the mere concept bringing flutters of disquiet to his gut.
But Kurosaki had not yet finished. The tirade continued, "You're so freaking up yourself you haven't even noticed Abarai's after your squad!"
Byakuya was standing before he truly registered moving, searching for Senbonzakura even as he remembered it lay beyond his reach. Renji tossed the still protesting boy aside and hit the floor at Byakuya's feet, his hands fisting tightly as he kowtowed, his demeanour as agitated as Byakuya had ever seen it. "Taichō-sama, I swear," he said, "I never said anything like that. I wouldn't, sir, I swear. Maybe his father-"
"My excuse for an old man didn't say fuck-all about anything," Kurosaki said, struggling up from the other side of the bed. He took one look at Renji and snarled, "What the hell, Abarai? You've got that freaky-ass power. Don't grovel to him, kick his ass!"
Although Renji looked even more panicked by this statement, for Byakuya things suddenly started making much more sense. He felt something inside unclench. This was a simple misunderstanding, not treachery. Apparently the boy mistook poorly contained reiatsu for an indication of true power levels. His assertions about the preferences of the division were no doubt based on something equally erroneous. Renji was loyal.
Yet without that slip of the tongue, this scenario could have played out in a very different way. Setting officer against officer was a tried and tested method of attack and one Byakuya should have been looking for, except he had not thought to find it in one so young and apparently inexperienced.
His irritation at himself and this entire evening flared to a hot burn and, rather than offer a verbal defence, he corrected Kurosaki's misapprehension through the blunt application of force. Without movement or comment, he unleashed the full power of his reiatsu, sending it thundering out into the night. The looking glass behind him vaporised with its passing, delicate interior screens shredded and both Renji and the boy trembled, pinned in place by the weight of it. After a moment, Kurosaki's eyes rolled back and he fell limply to the bed. The display would create chaos throughout the manor but Byakuya felt the demonstration worth it, and not only for Kurosaki.
Byakuya reined his power back in, wrapping it closer to him than any cloth, and leaving Renji gasping on the floor. In a gesture of both annoyance and trust, Byakuya turned away, removing his haori and placing it carefully alongside the scarf. There was neither sound nor movement from behind him though the tension in the air was palpable and for the first time in many years he could sense the chaotic flutter of Renji's reiatsu as though he was having difficulty controlling it.
Beyond Renji, he felt the horde from the main house descending upon them. Byakuya grimaced and said, "I suppose that was inevitable. Deal with the guards, and reassure those of my family now certain of my demise that they are premature in their celebrations."
He heard a mumbled, "Taichō," and the sound of Renji scrabbling for his clothing. Before he had a chance to slip away, Byakuya added, "You may return afterwards."
There was a sudden silence, then a huffed breath and Renji said, "Right then, I'll be back as soon I've sorted 'em out. Want me to bring anything in?"
"Nothing," Byakuya said and glanced back over his shoulder. Renji was holding his clothing in front of him like a shield and his eyes were downcast. Byakuya felt a momentary pang of guilt which he quickly dismissed. It was appropriate to reinforce their relative ranks, and from all Kurosaki said, it seemed likely Renji had spoken without thought for consequence, a habit Byakuya had thought him broken of long since. Thus he was annoyed, though not enough to curtail the evening's activities.
As the clothing did little to cover Renji's nakedness, Byakuya raked a possessive glance over him and said, "Do not be overly slow."
Renji smiled at him less nervously and nodded a deeper than usual bow which, for once, included a clear and respectful, "Hai, taichō."
After Renji left, Byakuya took a moment to compose himself. So far this day had conspired to infuriate him and it showed no signs of changing yet. Though perhaps his demonstration had earned some small victory with Kurosaki. It would interesting to see how he reacted when he recovered.
On the heels of the thought, Byakuya noticed a slight rise in reiatsu indicative of Kurosaki starting to come around. A flick of his finger reinforced the bakudō and he heard a quietly muttered, "Crap," before Kurosaki sighed and rolled onto his side, glaring in Byakuya's direction. "Okay, I get it already," he said, "I was wrong. You're a bad-ass. Now can you just let up with the magic before my arms drop off?"
The urge to discipline the boy was strong; Byakuya squashed it ruthlessly. Facetiousness may not the type of behaviour he wished to encourage but it was an improvement over outright belligerence. Instead he levelled his voice and said seriously, "Kurosaki Ichigo, have you now decided to co-operate?"
There was another huff, this one accompanied by rolled eyes. Byakuya felt his irritation rise and was forcibly reminded of his uncle's reactions to his own fits of temper. He controlled himself and repeated his question, albeit in an abbreviated form, "Do not make me ask again."
"Fine, yes, I'll co-operate, whatever, just take the manacles off."
Despite his rapidly expanding reiryoku, the boy posed no real threat so Byakuya removed the bakudō. Kurosaki immediately rolled into a cross-legged position, grabbed a pillow to cover himself and sat rubbing his wrists and arms.
Watching him, Byakuya was fairly sure he was pouting, though with his head down and his shoulders hunched it was difficult to tell. When he glanced up and noticed Byakuya's attention, he coloured rapidly with a blush that spread from his hairline to his clavicles.
It was infuriating. He was acting as though this were his first time in another's bed and yet he was attractive and healthy and surely far too old not to have had at least one lover. The only explanation Byakuya could fathom was that his previous experience had been with a woman and thus he was unfamiliar with the ways of men together. If that was the case then Byakuya's hopes for the boy were not ill-founded; to keep his head to the extent he did whilst being taken for the first time could not have been easy. It boded well for his future training, in all spheres.
Byakuya continued undressing, aware of Kurosaki's silent observation. So long as the boy looked and did not move, Byakuya was content to leave him be. Only when he stripped off his shitagi, did he get a reaction; a sharp inhalation that bordered on a gasp. The scars, he presumed. Though decades old, their pink hue still stood in sharp contrast to the paleness of the rest of his skin; three distinct points of impalement through chest, belly and shoulder, along with matching scars on his back. There could be no mistake, the wounds were meant to be fatal.
He raised an enquiring brow when Kurosaki continued to stare, and slipped on the sea-green kimono which had been laid out for him, easing his hair free of the collar. As he started undoing his hakama, Kurosaki's gaze flew back to his lap and he started kneading the pillow hard with his knuckles. The blush had intensified, reaching below his nipples and covering both shoulders, and for a moment Byakuya allowed himself to be charmed. This boy, who had thought nothing of attempting to stab him through the head, appeared endearingly innocent in matters of sex. Or was until he was brought here by Renji and... ah. Perhaps therein lay the problem.
"Did Renji not-" he began, just as Kurosaki blurted, "I've never done anything like this before." He followed the statement up with a glower so fierce it would put a temple guardian to shame.
Byakuya schooled away a smile. A young man's pride was a fragile thing and it would never do for Ichigo to think he was laughing at him. Keeping his expression as flat as possible, he said, "Then perhaps you should tell me what you have done."
For a brief moment Byakuya was concerned the boy was about to have a seizure; the way his mouth worked combined with the almost puce shade of his face was distinctly disturbing, then just as Byakuya was about to suggest breathing as a viable life choice, Kurosaki inhaled deeply, squeezed both eyes shut and said, "Nothing, okay. I've never done anything. At all. Ever. With anyone. Until Renji and he..."
Some of the tension leached from his shoulders along with a long drawn out sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, older, more mature. "I was too mad to really think about what was happening. All I could focus on was waiting until you got here so I could kill you both and escape."
The boy was telling the truth – up to a point. His dropped gaze gave the rest away. Embarrassment could be the cause but Byakuya wasn't convinced, or at least not entirely in this case. It looked to Byakuya as though Kurosaki was using his naiveté to gain trust where it was not deserved. Was this how he'd manipulated Renji? Byakuya resolved to enquire later. It didn't do to have a scorpion in one's midst without being fully aware of its sting.
"That is not necessarily a bad thing," he said, testing the waters. "You will have fewer bad habits to break."
The smile he received in reply bordered on winsome and that was the last piece of evidence Byakuya needed. Leaving the final ties on his hakama firmly knotted, he held out a hand and gestured the boy to come to him.
Kurosaki complied, unwinding from the bed and dropping the pillow behind him as he stood. The liquid way he moved was in complete contrast to the hectic flush of embarrassed colour across his cheeks and chest. This was the first time Byakuya had had the chance to observe him in action and it was immediately obvious that he had been trained. In hakuda probably, given Isshin's competence in that area.
As he drew close, Byakuya braced himself for the attack, and this time he was expecting it. Again there was a flare of reiatsu and, though smaller than previously, it was enough warning to enable Byakuya to raise a finger and release sai a moment before the head-butt connected with his nose.
The boy yelped and tumbled backwards onto the bed, legs sprawled, his arms, perforce, tight behind his back. "What the fuck?" he accused, "I thought you'd got over bondage central?"
"And I thought you had promised to co-operate."
"Well, yeah, but-"
"I did not imagine your attack." Byakuya spun away from the bed, irritation burning through his veins. He had expected resistance; noble blood breeds true and the Shiba were notorious for their stubbornness; but this was becoming farcical. Since he was not prepared to harbour a rabid dog, he had to find some way of proving to the boy that he was serious, and yet he was blocked by complete denial at every turn. It was as though Kurosaki were incapable of admitting defeat, incapable of submitting to the inevitable.
Perhaps if he brought one of the sisters... No. Such an act would be without any semblance of honour and Byakuya could not bring himself to seriously contemplate it. The boy had called his bluff on that matter and won. Which also could not be borne.
They were at an impasse. Perhaps the wisest thing to do would be to wait for Renji's return. His fukutaichō may have some suggestions as to how to deal with Kurosaki. He was always so much better with personnel problems.
Distantly registering a rustle of bedding behind him, Byakuya turned to see what insult the boy had decided upon now.
The roundhouse kick came from nowhere. Unheralded by reiatsu it smacked solidly into the arm he threw up at the last moment to protect his face, the impact jarring him to his very bones, far more so than it should coming from a newly severed soul.
The boy's arms were free.
For the briefest second Byakuya's mind stuttered in confusion – he'd used sai, he knew he did – and that was when the fist hit him. The blow was glancing and by rights should have done no more than damage Kurosaki's hand, and yet it snapped Byakuya's head back, bringing, unbelievably, the taste of blood to his mouth.
It was that which broke through. And Byakuya responded with a backhand which spun the boy on the spot and knocked him flat. He followed up with a move he must have absorbed directly from his uncle's hands. He dropped to the floor, hauled Kurosaki across his lap, pinning him tight with legs and arm, and brought his free hand down with a reiatsu enhanced smack. The resulting bellow of pain and humiliation repaid every aggravation he had suffered that day.
Ignoring the squirming, the declarations of hatred and attempts to bite, Byakuya continued his campaign on the boy's naked backside, punctuating his blows with the words he had been schooling into silence for far too long.
"Brat! You have breeched the limits of my tolerance. I have offered the hand of friendship and you have done nothing but spit in my face. Yet you fail to grasp even the basic tenants of your situation. Without my protection there are none to challenge against any who bid for you. None to gainsay any scheme, however debased. You are nothing but an ignorant fool. If you continue down this road, the three of you will be destroyed!"
When Kurosaki's resistance finally faded from cries to yelps and thence to jerking sobs, Byakuya slowed his hand, bringing it to rest on skin turned scarlet and burning from the spanking. His anger subsided with it. In a great many ways he could understand the boy's actions, but he could not allow them to continue. The liability was too great.
Releasing his grip on the back of Kurosaki's neck, he angled the boy's face towards him, ignoring the tears and spit and snot, and said, "Kurosaki Ichigo, I promise that even if I have to spend the rest of eternity teaching you, for your own sake, and for that of your sisters and clan, you will learn to submit."