Over His Dead Body
Dedicated to Kuchiki Byakuya
Happy Birthday Captain ;)
Kurosaki Ichigo's headphones hung loosely around his neck but the arithmetic beats of the bass still flooded through his blood, changing the beat of his heart to match its own. The sound of the voice wasn't lost to him because the volume had been maxed. Smooth, clear and quiet the man's voice filtered out, each note—each word drying his mouth further.
"Saturday morning jumped out of bed, and put on my best suit. Got in my car and raced like a jet, all the way to you…"
He had been to the Kuchiki mansion on a number of occasions. And not once had he ever felt at home amongst its sleek designer furniture, antique sculptures or wide, echoing swathes of wooden floor. But on this particular occasion, his nerves were on edge long before he and his equally nervy accomplice even emerged from the Senkaimon with a burst of white light behind them and a Jigokuchō in front.
As he ungracefuly landed at the gate of the compound, tiny pinpricks of tension tingled up his leg to his spine. Every muscle felt tight. For a second he felt dizzy and had to close his eyes. Those four tequila shots were beginning to take its toll. Truth be told it wasn't the first time Ichigo had entered the Seireitei stoned. Thanks to lieutenant Matsumoto, whom he had had to escort back home from the World of the Living on a number of occasions. But it wasn't the time to dwell on that right now.
His heart was going pitter-patter, he realized and he felt a tightening across his chest that made it almost impossible for him to breathe. The time had come and he was suddenly awash in a sea of contradictory emotions. Anticipation and excitement and longing did battle with anxiety, uncertainty, and a few second thoughts. He was forced to wonder once more if he was doing the right thing.
The guards at the gate dealt him and his companion wondering appraisals before the manners taught to all Kuchiki servants kicked in and they bowed in greeting. "Kon-nichiwa my lady, substitute soul reaper."
Impeccably tailored black dinner suit, bow tie—Ichigo knew he must stand out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of Shinigami's dressed in their standard Shihakushō. With a shrug, he headed for the main house. A wave of sickness accompanied his wobbly legs as they trod spotless laminated wood flooring.
He became aware of an increase in tension as the moment came closer when he was going to have to face the captain whose office resided on the second floor. The song continued to play on, but the loud and erratic trashing of Ichigo's heart drowned it to nothing but a mere buzz in his ear.
"Knocked on your door with heart in my hand, to ask you a question. Cause I know that you're, an old-fashioned man, yeah…"
Nervously he approached the Kuchiki clan head's study.
Alone.
The door was standing open.
Beyond it everything looked clean and neat but he was the first thing Ichigo saw—standing—gazing out the window. With the sunlight streaming in around him he looked bigger and leaner and more intimidating than usual.
A force to be reckoned with, Ichigo likened with a small shudder. And had no concept whatsoever of how prophetic that thought was as he took a moment to brace himself, then stepped into the room.
The man heard him and spun round, then went very still—scrutinizing his most unwelcomed guest.
He stood tall and erect with his mocking contempt wafting over Ichigo in waves.
The instant he entered the large, over-furnished room, Ichigo collided with shimmering slate-grey eyes and knew beyond doubt that Kuchiki Byakuya was the most intimidating man he'd ever come across. Even while he tried to keep eye-contact, another less sensible part of him wanted to focus on anything else in the elegant space.
His well-cut Shihakushō and Haori made him look distinctly daunting—despite the addition of that white scarf and his Clan's Kenseikan, which Ichigo had liken to hair rollers the first time he saw the man. Still, he had never seen the man in anything but traditional clothing, Ichigo reflected dismally, scanning the stony impassivity of his demeanour.
Nerves made him stumble over the corner of a rug and bump his hip on a small table.
Even if the Ryoka had not been painfully aware of just how much was riding on the older man's response to his request, his attitude would have warned Ichigo that success was by no means a foregone conclusion. A little frisson of apprehension silvered through his already tense frame.
"Oui Byakuya, I'd like to have a word with you?" he asked, sounding afraid even to himself.
On returning to his desk, Byakuya asked in a tight voice, "What is it Kurosaki?"
"Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes 'cause I need to know."
Ichigo watched him for a while, brown eyes following the sudden flick on his pen when he scrawled something on a document he picked up. The white, fingerless, Tekkō he wore that only covered the back of his hands seemed to punctuate his movements. Long fingers, deft and supple and precise in their link with his brain.
He knew of the harm those fingers could inflict, having had them latched around his throat a few times before.
For want of something to focus on—or perhaps cautiously aware that in Byakuya's hands, even stationeries were deadly, Ichigo continued to watch the pen's movement. It was black, with a ring of gold circling its slender body, the platinum tipped nib feeding ink onto the paper like liquid silk.
The room was all so quiet, so eerie.
Suddenly he couldn't stop shivering and he didn't think it was because the room was heavily air-conditioned.
As if he could smell fear, the pen stopped and lifted. Byakuya looked up at Ichigo, grey eyes—like a wolf's coat—looking coolly detached.
"Either you state your reason for disturbing me or leave," he said, setting his shoulders against the back of his chair.
Knowing that he could potentially be prodding what was a very dangerous animal, Ichigo swallowed bravely and spoke. "How do you feel about Rukia becoming my wife?"
"You say I'll never get your blessing 'til the day I die. Tough luck, my friend, but the answer is 'No'…"
If he had intended to shock Byakuya out of his cool composure then he certainly succeeded. A burning dark colour swept across his high cheekbones and he launched to his feet sending paperwork scattering.
For a moment Ichigo stood, paralyzed with growing fear, wondering why on earth Byakuya should look so scorchingly angry. He was only asking for Rukia's hand—not her head on a silver platter.
It was like being pinned to the wall by shards of glass.
Whatever it was that had exploded inside of Byakuya quickly subdued however, and the cold hard ruthlessly controlled animal was back.
"Have you lost your mind Kurosaki?" his eyes flashed out a blaze of blistering fury that made Ichigo cower in fear. "What have you got to offer Rukia other than a lifetime of juice boxes?"
"Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?"
It was no secret what Byakuya thought of him outside of his extraordinary Shinigami abilities.
"I may not be the man who can give her everything she deserves—" His throat thickened and closed over but he forced himself to speak. "—but I'm the man who'll try, and that makes me the man she deserves," he jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb to accentuate his slurred words.
By this time, Byakuya was pale with anger now, not flushed. How he could manage to look so composed and yet so angry at the same time, Ichigo would never know.
He had only tolerated the boy's presence in his house for Rukia's sake and he had made that very clear.
He shuddered at the prospect of having that obnoxious klutz being anything but the useless freeloader that he was. Byakuya could handle sitting through a few dinners with him blabbering endlessly about shit no one cared about, but this was a stretch too far.
Marry Rukia? Ha. Now that was the joke of the century.
He lifted his pointed chin, his eyes cooling to glacial grey, and gave Ichigo a dignified, "Leave."
"Why you gotta be so rude? I'm gonna marry her anyway…"
Ichigo's skin prickled beneath Byakuya's intent gaze. He appeared relaxed, but he reminded him of a panther: sleek, dark and dangerous as it eyed its prey. He had to get out of his office, he thought wildly. But not yet—
"Not until you tell me why not?" he contended angrily. His every instinct was urging him to fight back. "You know that I love her," he murmured through a fevered grab at air.
Silence spread for endless seconds that clawed cruelly at his insides.
"She already said yes," Ichigo told him uncomfortably; unable to meet his gaze for he was afraid of saying something that could lead to the drawing of blood.
That of his own.
"Marry that girl, marry her anyway. Marry that girl, yeah, no matter what you say…"
The Clan head's stunning eyes took on a forbidding aspect. "Don't say another word," he breathed, his long fingers reaching out to pick up his soul-phone. "Renji, turn the music down and put Rukia on the line," he rasped into the receiver.
He had left the two practicing their Kidō back at squad six's barracks.
That's funny, Byakuya thought. He couldn't recall ever allowing his men to take music unto the base. Then there was the sound of fine cutlery clinking against each other over the line. Silently, he wondered where in the barracks his lieutenant was but decided not to question it.
Suddenly as if something registered, there was tension in his strong neck muscles and his clenched jaw line. And as he calmly scolded Renji, Ichigo noticed his blanched pallor and the lines of stress spoiling the shape of his lips.
All too soon, his conversation ended.
He swung his dark head around to look at him. Fierce eyes that glittered with the oddest expression settled on him. "Where is Rukia?" he got up and crossed the room with the long loose-limbed stride of a predator eager to pounce.
"Marry that girl, and we'll be a family. Why you gotta be so….rude?"
"I'm right here nii-sama," a soft voice filtered inside the room, followed by the sleek elegance and beauty of a woman who stopped hearts. She had the face of an angel, and a body to tempt any man with blood in his veins.
Big, captivating violent eyes, pale, almost translucent skin, a small nose and full lips. Dark hair piled neatly atop her head in a bun with loose tendrils framing her cheeks.
Ichigo's firm lips parted in a loaded smile aimed directly at her, "Rukia, you said you'd wait downstairs," he murmured under his breath, his stunned gaze roaming over her.
Byakuya glared at his adoptive sister and took a few deep, steadying breaths, striving to calm his fast-beating heart and slowly rising temper. He was after all, a man with a reputation to uphold—that of a serene and apathetic ice-cube.
"I hate to do this, you leave no choice. Can't live without her."
The elegant white, obviously designer mermaid, silk and chiffon gown she wore caressed every curve of her slender body. Off the shoulder sleeves, with a low sweetheart neckline and a Basque waistline cut that circled her tiny waist. It accentuated her high, full bust and the flare of her hips.
Ichigo's heart turned over when her lashes swept down a fraction as she said his name, "Ichigo."
She truly looked bridal.
Shock ripped through Byakuya as he stared at Rukia.
His brain struggled to comprehend either of their attire, and it took all his formidable will-power to school his expression into one of polite interest rather than murderous rage.
"What is going on here?" He demanded, a hairsbreadth away from having a heart attack.
Ichigo shot him a wry grin and pulled Rukia against himself.
"Love me or hate me we will be boys. Standing at that altar…"
"Rukia and I were going—" he said, feeling inexplicably shy. "—but we couldn't go through with it," his heart was pounding like a sledgehammer in his chest. "Not until we've had your blessing."
He saw instantly it had been the wrong thing to say. The man's fury grew until his eyes glimmered an angry incandescent silver.
He need not say anymore.
The Kuchiki head stared in incredulity and outrage as the full import of Ichigo's words sank in. In his head flashed images of orange haired rug-rats and juice-boxes. Juice boxes, everywhere.
His stomach churned in repulsion.
"Not under my regime," he said in a murderously quiet drawl. He would rather slit his throat.
Twice he had broken the laws of his clan. Once he had broken the law of the Soul Society and he didn't plan on upping the tally. After all, if he did not abide by the codes, how could he expect his lesser counterparts to uphold them?
His eyes narrowed when Rukia opened her mouth to argue.
"Or we will run away. To another galaxy, you know…"
Her mouth felt dry. She licked her lips nervously and prayed that when she spoke her voice would not waver. "Why not, nii-sama?"
Her voice shook, but he ruthlessly hardened his heart against her. "Go to your room and get out of that ridiculous get-up," Byakuya instructed, again with that legendary calm.
Her jaw dropped, and as the room tilted alarmingly she was afraid she was going to faint. Perhaps allowing Ichigo to coax her into taking a shot before they approached her brother had not been a wise decision.
It did nothing to quell the awful feeling stirring in the pit of her stomach. If anything, it intensified it.
Byakuya was deadly serious, she realized as she stared at his taut face, his skin stretched tightly over the razor-sharp edges of his cheekbones. His eyes seemed to scorch her soul. "Have you suffered a loss of brain cells, Rukia? Perhaps I ought to have Captain Unohana take a look at you. You've been spending far too much time in the World of the Living."
Involuntarily she shivered, catching the warning nuances in his drawl.
Ichigo's grip around her tightened. He swamped her senses, the warmth of his body and the sensual musk of his cologne drifting around her so that she relaxed against him and rested her head against him.
They could get through this, without bloodshed.
She hoped.
"You know she's in love with me. She will go anywhere I go…"
"Out of respect for you nii-sama—" she started firmly, her heart contracting when she noted the deep lines furrowing his brow. Byakuya looked as though he had aged ten years since she stepped inside the room. "—we couldn't go through with it, not unless we had your approval."
Ichigo smirked to himself.
"Out of respect?" Byakuya echoed, his eyes were so hard and cold, both Rukia and Ichigo took a hasty step backwards. "My answer is the same as it had been for the last couple of months. No."
He was watching them impassively—the word filtered into their minds—pitiless.
His silence unnerved Rukia the most, and her voice was unnaturally high-pitched when she burst out, "But I love him nii-sama and I want to be with him."
"Can I have your daughter for the rest of my life? Say yes, say yes 'cause I need to know…"
The solitary word cracked through the air like a whip, and Byakuya had to suppress an urge to flinch.
"You know nothing of love Rukia," he clipped, his temper flaring at the undisguised sincerity in her voice. "But I can assure you that when you experience it, it'll be far greater than whatever you're convinced you feel for this boy," his voice harsh and his eyes glittering with cold indifference.
Ichigo's cheeks burned, and he was filled with an incredulous anger as his words sank home. Even he was smart enough to know when he was being insulted.
"We've been dating for more than four years. Don't you think the respectable thing to do is to accept me having her hand in marriage?" he protested.
Rukia found a voice from somewhere and used it with an approximation of normality. "Ichigo's right."
Byakuya looked at her down the arrogant length of his nose. She was standing rigidly, her face warming helplessly.
"You say, I'll never get your blessing 'til the day I die. Tough luck, my friend, but 'No' still means 'No'…"
He wrenched her free and faced Ichigo hotly, wrinkling his nose. "Have you two been drinking?" The harsh query seemed torn from him.
The flush on Rukia's cheeks slowly drained away, leaving her as white as his Haori.
The assumption had cut right into her like a knife.
Ichigo scratched his head and flushed guiltily, "What gave you that impression eh Byakuya?" he towards the Kuchiki duo like a drunk trying to act sober, choosing each movement with infinitesimal care.
Rage roared through Byakuya's lean, powerful frame like a flaming fireball. He felt light-headed with the force of it. In all his life he could never recall being so angry. The lowly Ryoka still insisted on addressing him by his first name, like they were in the same league.
"You uncultured boy!" his face was a storm cloud of anger, grounding his even white teeth together.
"Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?"
"You took my pride out drinking?" he shouted, trying to steady a suddenly swaying Rukia.
For an instant, he looked as though he had been turned to stone. Then with equal rapidity he took a pace forward and stood over Ichigo, six feet three inches of uncompromising, aggressive masculinity.
His features were forbidding. "Did you?" he urged thickly. "Out in public? Dressed so ridiculously?"
"Not exactly," Instinct made Ichigo scramble up and go straight into retreat, taking multiple steps back.
"They were serving alcoholic beverages at the reception nii-sama," Rukia hiccuped, ducking her head down and subconsciously turning the new band around her finger. "Even lieutenant Matsumoto agrees that the sake in the World of the Living is better," she giggled.
Byakuya gazed back at her, his brow furrowing with confusion.
He strode forward, dominating the room with the strength of his sheer presence and size. "Reception?"
"Marry that girl, marry her anyway. Marry that girl, no matter what you say"
Ichigo sent him a foxy grin, "Renji filmed the entire thing, so you won't miss a second of it. We just came by to get your blessing before we left for our honeymoon." He knew winking at the man was cutting it a bit close. "You're handling this a lot less bloodier than I expected Byakuya. I hope you react the same way to the news of your nephew."
"Blessing? Honeymoon? Nephew?" the man twitched, like a robot going up in flames due to a system overload.
"We're expecting."
His breath caught. A hard tight knot in his chest.
With a speed Ichigo scarcely registered, Kuchiki Byakuya materialized before him, pressing Sebonzakura's lethal blade against his throat.
"Scatter."
The headphones around Ichigo's neck were the first to meet its demise. He had a feeling Byakuya's sharp ears had been honing in on the song all along and if the triumphant gleam in the captain's eyes was anything to go by when the gadget disintegrated, he hadn't appreciated the lyrics.
A/N: Happy Birthday Byakuya-bae! I know the premise of this story has been done a countless number of times in the Bleach fandom but I wanted to write my own version. I don't know if anyone knows the song "Rude" by Magic, this one-shot was inspired by it. I'm trying to get into the swing of writing Bleach fanfics because it is my favourite anime/manga. This one was totally random and speed-written when I realized it was the bae's birthday so maybe it's not of my usual standard but...
Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated :) Even if it's just to wish our favourite noble happy birthday! Damn, I love Byakuya.