Word Count: 2,409
Characters/Pairings: Byakuya, Hisana, Rukia; ByaHisa
Timeline/Spoilers: set pre-series through post-series; spoilers for Kuchiki family history
Summary: "All my longing, all my love / Will never make any difference."
Notes: Wow, I just keep churning out Bleach fics, and I think this may be my longest one for this fandom. Have some gratuitous Byakuya/Hisana angst.
The poem used throughout the fic is "When She Was Still Alive" by Kakinomoto no Hitomaro; very fitting for this couple, no?
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In a cruel twist of fate, Byakuya finds his departed wife's long lost sister one year after her passing, and at the Spiritual Arts Academy, no less. How cruel, that during the last year of her life, as Hisana's search grew most fervent and frequent (so much so that it eventually put her in her deathbed) that Rukia hadn't even been in Rukongai, but just within reach, on the very outskirts of Seireitei. His grief over his lost love multiplies upon this realization. Was this his punishment for taking a peasant girl from the slums as his wife? Ah, but to them it had never been about wealth or status. She had simply been Hisana, the one to capture his heart. Hisana, who never felt worthy of his love. Hisana, who was run down from guilt over her sister and the harsh treatment of his own blood. Hisana, who in her last moments apologized to him for not loving him as fully as she should have.
Foolish woman. He had been content with his heart in her care and vice versa. More than that, it had been the pinnacle of happiness of his life, and he was certain he'd never achieve it again without her at his side. The snide comments about a woman finally taming the upstart Kuchiki youth or how wanton women from Rukongai were wilder in bed because they had nothing left to lose still stirred his ire. He had loved her truly, in the most innocent of ways, and she him. Not that they abstained from lovemaking, which was equally passionate, but it was the honesty in her eyes and warmth of her soul that first endeared him to her. He would forever be grateful that she found it in herself to look past his cool facade and dive into his depths the day of their chance encounter in Inuzuri.
Five years of bliss hampered by her impending illness and the cruelties of his clan. Perhaps it was he that hadn't loved her enough. He had subjected her to the rigid confines of nobility and political clashes, when her soul was meant to wander free and unhindered.
He could have left her after that initial meeting in Inuzuri, never to cross paths again. The remnants of his rowdy youth within him, he'd been too brash in battle and injured himself. And Hisana, being the eternally benevolent soul that she was, had happened upon his broken form and took it upon herself to nurse him back to health. At first, his prideful nature turned his nose up at the thought of accepting help from another, but he truly was in no condition to argue. And he had fallen through the roof of her rundown hovel, landing amidst her small garden. He still ponders how the darkest depths of the 78th district could have bred such an angel in its midst.
In those first few minutes, she had already endeared herself to him, jokingly chastising him for crushing her flowers and appealing to his noble pride by saying that he could repay her care by repairing her roof. That meeting (and his subsequent laughable attempts at maintenance) could have been the end of it. A few months later, however, he was sent on another mission in south Rukongai. This time, it was he who rescued her, protecting her from the brunt of a hollow attack. He admonished her recklessness, but she only smiled sweetly and invited him for tea. Another chance he had to end their tragic tale before it began. But, their book had been written long ago; it was only a matter of time until one of them opened its pages.
Chapter after chapter, he returned to see her, going out of his way after missions, even spending his rare days off in her serene company. It was months before he realized that he was courting her. Chaste farewells turned into lingering kisses. He began bringing her small trinkets, nothing too flashy that would endanger her (it was still Inuzuri, after all), but thoughtful little gifts that made her think of him. They would traipse around other districts, or have picnics on hillsides. Once, he asked her why she didn't remain in one of the upper districts. He would have gladly escorted her, and it wasn't as if she had much to carry with her. In reply, she simply smiled that same lugubrious smile of hers that would continue to haunt him far after she left his world for the next.
When she was still alive
We would go out, arm in arm,
And look at the elm trees
Growing on the embankment
In front of our house.
Their branches were interlaced.
Their crowns were dense with spring leaves.
They were like our love.
It was a few year later when marriage became a topic of interest. Byakuya was in the spring of his youth, and, as the heir apparent to one of the four, great noble clans, he was expected to marry highborn. He'd been aware of this role he'd been groomed to play from a very young age, but it wasn't until Hisana entered the picture that he began to rebel, at least inwardly, at the expectations of nobility. He staved off the marriage negotiations for as long as possible, pilfering excuses about his shinigami duties and general disinterest.
Distantly, he wondered what his parents would have thought of Hisana. He'd lost both at an early age – his mother died rearing him, and his father was killed in action. From what little he remembered, his father had been a surprisingly warm man, for a Kuchiki, but always upheld his honour. Theirs had not been a union of love, but he was told that they had made a good pair. Perhaps there hadn't been passion, but there was an earnest affection, which was the most that the aristocracy could hope for in marriage. Byakuya never imagined that he would aspire for something more, but everything changed after Hisana.
Hisana herself had never entertained marriage as a possibility, except maybe in her wildest of fantasies. She'd simply enjoyed his company, knowing that someday soon their time together would come to an end. He was nobility after all, and she, just a poor girl from the slums, with nothing to offer someone of his social stature. Back in those days, he thought that that may have been why she kept part of herself closed off from him, why her eyes were always tinged with sadness. How selfish of him to have assumed her grief was over him alone.
She had thought him mad when he brought up the idea of an engagement between them and brushed it off as youthful fancy, but he continued to remark upon the matter. Eventually, she decided that it was time to cut all ties with him, however much it pained her. He would be happier in the long run, and she told him so. One might have thought that his pride would prevent him from accepting rejection, from a peasant no less, but truly, his heart broke at the notion of not spending the rest of his days with his beautiful, enigmatic Hisana. At this confession, she broke down, proclaiming all her unworthiness to him, eventually revealing what, in her own eyes, was her greatest defect – her abandonment of her younger sister. He realized then why should would never migrate from Inuzuri.
He told her that he loved her not in spite of this but because of this, this unabashed love and honour in her heart, that he would do anything in his power to assist in her quest, and that she would never again have to carry her burdens alone. Sobbingly, brokenly, she accepted his proposal. For that split second, for the tiniest of moments, she indulged in his bright-eyed outlook, and allowed herself to feel worthy of his love for the first time.
Knowing his family would never approve the union, they wed in secrecy. The day he formally presented her to his clan as his wife was the most terrifying day of her life. She survived thieves and murderers in the dark depths of the slums, but never before had she faced the cool venom of nobility.
She found only solace in the nighttime embrace of her husband, who continued to defy all odds for her. Hisana was the model wife and lady of the household, but it was never enough for his family. Their stinging words and degenerate sneers were like cuts across her skin. The pressures on her shoulders and her continued pilgrimages to Rukongai began to take their toll on her health. The first time she collapsed, she chalked it up to fatigue. The second time, coupled with hacking coughs and cold sweats, she knew. She knew she was not long of this plane, and her fervor to find Rukia increased tenfold.
By that time, Rukia, with no family name of her own, having been left as a babe and growing up on the streets with other children, was already at the Academy. Hisana's search was in vain. Whether her trips to Rukongai were what spelled her untimely death or whether the lines had been written long ago, Byakuya has never been able to tell. And it haunts him to this day.
One of their most treasured pastimes, since their courting days, was to sit and enjoy the fall of the cherry blossoms together. Confined to bed in her final weeks, she barely had the strength to sit up and watch them fall for the final time. She leaned heavily on her husband's shoulder for support. She cursed herself for relying on him once more, another debt of kindness she'd never be able to repay.
Love and trust were not enough to turn back
The wheels of life and death.
She faded like a mirage over the desert.
One morning like a bird she was gone
In the white scarves of death.
He'd always been sparse with the release of his zanpakuto, using even its shikai only in times of necessity. With his caliber as a vice-captain at the time, there was hardly ever a need. After Hisana's passing, he is all the more hesitant to call forth for Senbonzakura. Even uttering its name summoned a pang of sorrow at the remembrance of her love for the sakura. As the small glass shards scatter into battle formation, so too does a small part of his heart upon each release. Though hardly one for frivolous thoughts, a tiny part of him is still convinced that after so many releases, his soul will have entirely fluttered away to join Hisana. He is uncertain whether this prognosis entreats him to use it less frequently or more so.
Now when the child
Whom she left in her memory
Cries and begs for her,
All I can do is pick him up
And hug him clumsily.
I have nothing to give him.
In our bedroom our pillows
Still lie side by side,
As we lay once.
Over half a century later, when his relationship with Rukia is mended, ready to begin a new, his soul finally begins to feel a semblance of peace. Hisana's memory is more of a comforting touch than a sharp weapon twisted into his chest. The sorrow never fully evaporates, but his mind now wanders more often to the innocent, joy-filled days of their courtship than to her weak, broken form at the end of her days. One would think that five, short years would be worth little for a god of death, whose tenure spans centuries to come, but their time together had been like a dream for him as well, one he wishes he never needed to have woken from.
Though, he finds respite now in his sister's company and in the successes of his division. Stoic though he may be, he is truly proud to regard his wife's sister as his own.
I sit there by myself
And let the days grow dark.
I lie awake at night, sighing till daylight.
No matter how much I mourn
I shall never see her again.
They tell me her spirit
May haunt Mount Hagai
Under the eagles' wings.
I struggle over the ridges
And climb to the summit.
Many years after the Quincy Invasion, Seireitei is finally at peace again. He ventures out into the world of the living, taking on a simple mission for the first time in quite some time. After all, there is rarely a need to send a captain class shinigami to fight off your rudimentary hollow, but something urges him to go.
It is then that he spots her. He comes across her by chance – the florist in a small flower boutique; how fitting for a gentle soul such as hers. His eyes flicker to her for a fraction of a second, but even then, he sees that she bears too much resemblance to his late wife for it to be coincidental. The years may have dimmed his memory of her to some extent, but she is as alive now before him as she is in his dreams (when his dreams are kind to him, at least). The same silky raven hair, demure smile, and diminutive form. But what captures his attention is a pair of shining, indigo eyes, untinged by heartache or grief. His own heart is unsure whether to soar or sink at this discovery, at the notion that she appears far happier now than she ever was at his side, so instead it settles for palpitating in rapid succession.
Ah, but she is young, far too young for this to be her first traipse into the world of the living. The crushing weight on his chest bourgeons with the comprehension that she has been sent to Soul Society and back, multiple times from the look of it, and never have they crossed paths. That Kuchiki arrogance threatens to rear its head, even though he knows there is no precedence for a lost lover coming full circle and returning to Soul Society, eventually being reunited with loved ones. Still, he cannot help but feel as if fate has personally jilted him once more. The rational side of him argues that there was no guarantee that she would even possess any memory of him, had they encountered one another. Again, there was no precedent for such a phenomenon. In fact, basic reasoning points against this very notion. Any shinigami he knows only remembers their most recent past life, and it is improbable that all of the shinigami he is familiar with are in their first cycle of reincarnation.
He has enough propriety and self-control to know that he cannot approach her, no matter how his soul may long for hers. Restless, he returns to the manor.
Byakuya is greeted by his younger sister, back from a mission herself and eager to share her adventures, and a warm meal, with him. A new warmth fills his chest.
I know all the time
That I shall never see her,
Not even so much as a faint quiver in the air.
All my longing, all my love
Will never make any difference.
Closing her shop for lunch, a young woman steps outside for some fresh air and to enjoy her meal under the branches of her favourite tree. She catches the visage of a striking, regal-looking man, but he vanishes in an instant, and she can't decide whether it was a trick of the light or not. A faint breeze picks up, and cherry blossom petals dance in the skies, creating a beautiful array. Petals kiss her cheeks, and she closes her eyes and smiles.
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owaranai
A/N: Human Hisana is implied to be at least somewhat spiritually aware, though she probably doesn't realize it. It's up to you whether she recognized him in the end or not. And yes, I totally borrowed the plot for their first meeting from Zack and Aerith from FFVII: Crisis Core. It just seemed fitting haha.
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