The sinned Lady Kuchiki is desperate to find her sister. This desperation caused her to make a single mistake- one that could cost her her marriage. Was being raped by another man worth anything? Infidelity and abandoning her sister... the Kuchiki Elders' cruel words were right, after all...
A slight AU. Bleach is not mine.
"You understand that there will be payment involved?"
She had no idea that those words would be a start of a long, terrible nightmare. Another nightmare in her life, which had recently seemed to turn so much for the better. But Hisana Kuchiki had never been a fortune teller, and she was sadly aware of that.
"I understand." She peered at the man before her by the grimy counter of the rundown pub, her violet eyes glowing from beneath the thick set of delicate eyelashes. Her small, thin fingers clutched the edge of her dirty robe—clothes she had chosen this morning in order not to seem too conspicuous in Rukongai—and the fine, delicate features of her oval face was set in a tinge of slight guilt. "I have money to pay." Spending her husband's vast fortune of money to redeem her sins was not something she was proud of, but she hadn't a choice. She needed this.
"I'm sure you do, sweetheart," the man replied in a sardonically amused tone. "Shall we get on with it, then?"
She nodded excitedly, trying to ignore the foul air from all around her. The odor of alcohol was not helping either.
"A little girl, about in her early teens, named Rukia," the man continued, glancing carelessly at a small stack of dirty papers. Simple black ink was scrawled crudely on the crumpled paper, so unlike the beautiful calligraphy of her husband. Somewhere, a man bellowed for more sake. "Looks like you, miss. She was seen in Hanging Dog with a red-haired boy approximately her age."
"A red-haired boy?" Her words fell out of her lips in a jumble. Here was real information; information she had been searching for so long… "Who is he? Which part of Hanging Dog?"
"By the small marketplace you passed by just an hour ago," the man answered, the same malicious amusement lingering in his voice. He reached out filthy fingers and prodded his goatee, smiling at the woman's instant consternation. "No need to fret, sweetcheeks. She's long gone by now. However, the red-haired boy—he should be a big help for you to trace her down. You see, he's a regular employee here in our humble pub. Now and then, he'll pop up here to help us out just for a small fee."
Hisana nearly went light-headed with relief and jubilance. She had finally found a proper lead, after months of fruitless searching! Her sister was so close; she was so close. "This is wonderful! If he does come here again, please, please let me know!"
The bartender smiled mirthlessly, yellow teeth gleaming. "Payment will have to be made a second time again, of course, if you wish to come to us once more."
"Oh, the money is nothing!" she breathed out. The exhilaration ran through her body, and she couldn't sense anything else but the small ball of hope swelling in her chest. "How much do I owe you now?"
"Oh, it's not money I want," the bartender assured her, the unpleasant grin on his face widening to almost a leer.
"Not… money?" So caught up in her joy, it took her several seconds to comprehend his words. "What do you mean? I have nothing to give you aside from that."
"Oh, I beg to differ. Follow me."
The man moved away from the counter, tossing the papers into a nearby bin, before treading to a small wooden door located almost innocently at the back of the pub. She swallowed apprehensively, the short-lived happiness dying away, and for some reason goose bumps erupted on her fair skin.
She followed him.
The door creaked open eerily, dust rolling about in tiny clouds, and he stepped into the black darkness that flooded the entrance of the door without a word, vanishing promptly. She stared at the dark abyss, trepidation curling in her gut. "Look here," she said quickly, "don't you want money? I have money. I don't understand what else you want from me."
"I don't want your money," his voice calmly echoed back from somewhere in the invisible depths of the room. The swirling darkness made her skin prickle with fear. "Now hurry up and come in, you snail of a woman."
She glanced back at the crowd of customers laughing and gulping sake among their tables, oblivious to her situation. Then the woman looked back at the open door, and stepped in, feet trembling.
The door slammed shut behind her, and she jumped. Her heart leaping in her chest, she tightened her hands along the side of her arms, holding herself protectively.
Suddenly, she longed for the powerful security of Byakuya's arms.
"Where are you?" she called, her voice cracking. The darkness was not helping her fears.
"Can't you see me? I'm right here, waiting for you," the man's voice crackled menacingly.
She blinked erratically, and realized it wasn't so dark after all. The lighting was actually quite dim, and her eyes took a few long seconds to adjust to the bulky silhouette of the man, and…. the outline of a futon beside him on the dirty stone floor.
She was leaping back in less than a heartbeat, her mouth dry. "No," she blurted, gasping and her violet eyes wide with terror. "I can't. That wasn't what I… You agreed to money!"
"Did I?" the man asked wryly, his arms folded as a wicked gleam fell on his yellow, narrow eyes. "Because I didn't."
He was right, Hisana thought wildly, the terror and fear creeping up her body like piercing daggers tearing through her flesh. He hadn't, from the start. She had only assumed.
"Please," she choked out desperately, only fully grasping the severe gravity of her situation. She was already past petrified and frantic. "I… I'm married. My husband… please, no. I can't. Please."
"Of course I know who you are," the man sneered. "A long time ago, you were one of us; a Rukongai citizen. Filthy, disgusting, and poor. But then he, Kuchiki Byakuya, the head of one of the greatest noble families, yes, he picked you up as his wife. His whore. I can't wait… can't wait to touch what his noble hands have touched… That should put me as the same level as him, won't it?"
His voice, so repulsive against the dimness… dripping with malice and the most lewd relish… She screamed, a high-pitched noise of absolute fear and agitation, and turned to flee, wretchedly screaming her husband's name as if he could hear her and come save her. And to her, his name represented safety, security and love—even if he wasn't there. "Byakuya-sama! Byakuya-sama!"
Only for him to pick her up effortlessly in a minute, his slimy hand dragging her slight weight roughly, and the most disgusting voice purring against her ear, "Come now… Just picture I'm him…"
Kento squeezed his hands against his zanpakuto, his gasps coming out of his mouth in quivering, out of control tremors. The Eight Squad Third Seat struggled to compose himself. His fate relied on the three captains seated calmly before him now. The simple words uttered from their lips would determine his fate as to whether or not his dream of becoming a new Captain would ever come true. Sweat rolled off his cheeks in small rivulets, but he ignored it.
The room was so quiet that he nearly suffocated from the deafening silence. The long, silver length of his sword gleamed unaffectedly within his shaking grip. He stole a hasty glimpse at his judges, and nearly swooned in relief upon seeing Ukitake-taicho smiling warmly at him. It was the only trace of warmth he could detect as compared to the chilling, unfathomable iciness the other two captains emanated from their unmoving positions on the tatami mats.
"Kento-kun," the white-haired man said cheerfully, his thin arms waving cordially at the candidate from beneath flapping white sleeves, oblivious to his companions' impassiveness. "Such a feat! I am so impressed. You are very talented, and as a captain you definitely have all the skills. Your Bankai is astounding! However…. You must have more faith in yourself, Kento-kun!" Ukitake winked at the shinigami, pale face creasing into an encouraging smile. Kento smiled back, feeling as if his lips were made of ice.
Ukitake had taken Kento's captain, Kyouraku-taicho's place after the lazy, inebriated captain was sent to the Fourth Squad due to an overdose of alcohol. Kento found it ironic that a terminally ill man was sent in his captain's place as a judge on the Captain's Exam because his own captain was indisposed in the hospital. But he sure wasn't going to complain when Ukitake was the nicest person around.
"Therefore… I have to say… Yes!" Ukitake ended off kindly, and Kento had to stop himself from sobbing in relieved joy. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.
"Don't thank me, for you have earned this," Ukitake-taicho replied smilingly, his eyes warm. The man turned to the companion sitting beside him. "How about you now, Byakuya?"
Kento stilled automatically, his fingers twitching against the hilt of his sword. Byakuya Kuchiki. Now this was a man you did not want to mess with. This aristocrat emanated an utter condescending lack of concern to the things around him. He seemed to be situated in a world of his own, an elevated world untouched by the common pains and worries of people below him.
He peered timidly at the captain. Byakuya Kuchiki sat coolly before him, elegant gloved hands placed neatly on his drawn knees, his eyes closed unconcernedly. Kento knew those eyes, when opened, were intimidating enough to force his targets to their trembling knees. The slate grey eyes lay as piercing, regal slashes slanted above the high cheekbones. A powerful shinigami he was, and also a being with acute grace.
The Sixth Captain finally spoke, in low rich and quietly haughty tones.
"You lack resolve," he stated calmly, not having moved from his position. The man appeared indifferent to Kento's sudden spike in fear. "You lack confidence in yourself. How can a captain, without even the confidence in himself, possess the confidence in defending Soul Society? Return home, as I would advise you to, and reflect."
Kento's blood seemed to chill in his veins. He had been rejected.
The captain hadn't even acknowledged his fighting skills! Heck, the man hadn't even acknowledged him! It was as if he had been completely insignificant to Kuchiki Byakuya.
Kento hated this man. He had always hated him, and now this loathing was growing, taking seed and sprouting into something more. Something dangerous.
He turned his head to Captain Yamamoto. His last and possible salvation.
Hisana stumbled through the verandah of the mansion, but quickly righted herself, setting her face to an expression of innocence. Her sandaled feet trod down the smooth, expensive timber of the wooden floor, struggling not to tremble. Her head lifted steadily as she gazed into the entrance of the large, beautiful estate which loomed over her tiny form, making her feel painfully small. Black silky locks fluttered down the delicate sides of her pale face.
A man with a bent back approached her, his body curled and his white hair gleaming in the dimness of the evening. He peered at her respectfully, his wrinkled eyes wide with relief behind the large lens of his specs.
"My Lady," he croaked, bowing slightly before her. "You have finally returned. I was starting to get worried."
"Is… Is he back?" She asked softly.
"Not yet. He is set to return home tomorrow."
She felt tainted relief wash through her like poison seeping through her veins; something she had no right to feel glad over. Yet she was not too surprised, as she was already all too aware that he was scheduled to return the following day, after all. He was well-known to be ever so meticulously on time and on schedule. But one could not help but fear sometimes...
''I see.'' Hisana smiled gently at the anxious family butler. The butler was old, and she knew he had been serving the Kuchiki Family before Byakuya had even been born. The man was someone who belonged here, someone who had earned his right amongst the family. Unlike her, whose only presence in the mansion—the Sereitei—was a reminder to the people of the lingering, traitorous feelings Byakuya had for her.
Feelings that now proved to be as traitorous as people thought, for she was as tainted as they believed her to be. Hisana wrestled hastily not to let the pain of her aching, bleeding body affect her expression as she gazed at the old man before her. ''I shall be heading to my room now.''
The room she shared with her husband.
The servant bowed politely, his gnarled fingers curling. ''Of course, my lady. However... If I may speak, my lady, are you alright? You seem...'' his expression shifted as he struggled to find the words, ''unwell.''
''I am perfectly fine, thank you,'' she answered kindly, and turned quickly before the butler could catch her countenance. The woman strode off with short, quick steps along the long, spacious corridors, and waved off the onslaught of maids who rushed to her side with a grateful but firm wave of her arm.
She tugged her shawl tighter around her, as if to help brace herself, and took in a deep albeit shaky intake of breath before ever so gently pushing the shoji door open. Cool air drifted tranquilly into the large room that greeted her eyes.
Tears nearly spilled out of said eyes.
She took in the desk tucked neatly at one corner of the room—his desk—with the long, elegant brush lying stationary on one side along the ink slab. He enjoyed writing calligraphy late into the night, while breathing in the very cool night air wafting in right now. She could easily make out the beautiful slivers of moonlight slithering through the gaps of window. Sometimes, they would sit together in each other's arms by the open shoji doors located on the opposite side of the bedroom, and watch the moon nestled above in the night sky. It had been so simple, so serene, and yet it had been one of the things that had made her so very happy.
She didn't deserve it. She had done the unthinkable.
The woman walked with unsteady legs—now in the privacy of her room—into the dark entrance of the bathroom. Her black hair disheveled and bangs scattered messily over her tired liquid eyes, she looked wearily into the long mirror positioned gracefully on the wall by the golden basin. And bit by bit, starting with the shawl, her crumpled robes fell to the floor.
She looked into the mirror again. Gashes, bruises and dried blood marked her tiny, slender body. She would have laughed at how blue and green her skin looked if not for the reality of her situation. The blood had crusted on her ravaged flesh, and she could feel the vicious stinging throb in her nether region. Even as she watched on, in an almost detached way, as if she was viewing someone else's body, a tiny blob of fresh crimson blood crept defiantly from between her shaking legs.
For a while she had believed that sex was supposed to be pleasurable. Her husband had been her first; and he had been the best. It had been definitely pleasurable—an underestimation; he brought her to the heavens with his adroit, loving hands and those perfect lips; using the tenderest of caresses to push her into the realms of utter rapture. He had made her feel like a queen—someone who deserved to be smothered with affection and love despite her sins. She still recalled how he always made sure he caught her in his arms whenever she soared towards an earth-shattering climax, to keep her from hurting herself.
Sex with the bartender had not been pleasurable. It had been a process to pay him back with what he wanted. He had held a complete lack of regard towards her welfare. The man had forced himself into her without even bothering about lubrication, ignoring her anguished shrill screams as he sated himself. She could still feel her walls tearing and bleeding as he callously entered, his fingers digging viciously into her skin and his hands slapping her violently when he felt like it.
But could she blame him? She had promised him payment and he had done his part in the transaction. She simply hadn't... expected that.
A tiny trickle of a crystal tear rolled down her chin and dripped onto her bruised neck.
It had hurt so much. The guilt of abandoning her sister, and now perhaps, this was her punishment. Karma was like that. Yet by suffering her punishment she had committed another sin; infidelity. Why was everything all related? Was her life going to be washed in the blackness of her sins for the rest of her life?
She stared at her trembling hands.
Her husband was a wonderful man. She longed to be like him. He was a good person; he was honorable and she knew that should he have a sibling, he would never have abandoned them. She was the only blotch of sin in his otherwise spotless record—another one of her sins. People called her terrible things behind his back, and the worst thing was that she couldn't just raise her head proudly and ignore their disparaging remarks because they were true.
They called her a whore. Well she was one now, wasn't she? They called her a peasant. That didn't even require an explanation. She was. They said she tarnished the Kuchiki family's reputation, another tick of the box. They called her a greedy and selfish witch. Abandoning Rukia certainly hadn't been because of her selfless personality either.
Hisana gasped abruptly as a sudden wave of vertigo washed over her. She clutched the side of the gold basin quickly, before snatching her hand back again at the feel of the cold, expensive metal. She didn't deserve to touch these things. She didn't deserve to be here. She loathed her surroundings. They were mocking her, just like the bartender's yellow eyes as he violated her...
She shook visibly, and looked down at the consistently throbbing pulse on her skinny wrist.
The gentle, calm grey eyes filled her mind and the tears finally fell with a vengeance.
I have a plot and if the response is good, then yeah I'll really want to continue this!
-PPWSOT