Title: Perils of Bankai
Characters: ByaRen, Unohana, Isane, Zabimaru and Minazuki
Summary: Oneshot, cracked and fluffy exploration of the relationship between Byakuya and Renji. In the timeline of the ByaRen Fanfiction Universe, comes after chapter 5 "Consummation" of Renji Reflection and before the omake "Little Lord Fauntleroy". Initial stages of the ByaRen relationship.
Rating/Warning: PG-13, crack, serious fluff
Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach, not even bleach. And the guys are over 18 in whatever dimension they exist in.
A/N Airing of the last crack idea from way back that I hadn't written up in the main fic.
Renji flopped down carelessly on the grass and rested his head against the cool stone of the bench, still breathing hard from his sparring session with Byakuya. More decorously, his lover seated himself on the stone bench, shaking out the folds of his hakama as he did so, and handed a bottle of water to Renji. Guzzling his water, Renji's head fell back and nudged Byakuya's thigh, then remained comfortably lodged against the familiar spot.
Byakuya's fingers toyed with the messy spray of crimson that hovered so invitingly within his reach. The strands were damp with perspiration and had darkened to the hue of blood, evoking memories a decade old, finally untainted by regret that had been banished by Renji's forgiveness and acceptance. His fingers paused, suddenly struck by a thought. Byakuya did not consider himself an inquisitive man, one who sought information merely for the thrill of complicit knowledge. Yet, the question in his mind grew to looming proportions, trivial though its content might be. Curiosity would not be defeated and seized on further justification. Surely it was a lover's prerogative to seek every crumb of knowledge he could glean of the beloved?
He heaved an inward, rueful sigh and delicately sought the words to pose his question without offense. "Renji."
The bold, masculine face tipped backwards to meet his eyes inquiringly.
"You always managed to keep your hair securely fastened even through the worst battles of the Winter War."
The tattooed eyebrows went up for a moment, then the sharp grin appeared. Renji did not appear unduly perturbed by the couched question.
"Kidou-reinforced hair ties."
"Kidou-reinforced?" Now Byakuya's eyebrows lifted. Kidou was not Renji's strong suit. He had improved over the years, but the finesse that spells of this kind implied was certainly beyond him.
Renji heard the doubt in Byakya's voice and his grin sharpened. "I do have friends who are considered kidou masters, you know," he said mildly, amusement lacing his words. At the slightly incredulous widening of Byakuya's eyes, he snorted. "No, not Rukia. I would never have heard the end of it if I had asked her."
Byakuya's hand began tracing the dark lines of Renji's forehead and the crimson eyes closed in simple appreciation of the touch. "I asked Hinamori and Kira. Hisaga-senpai too, but he thought we're were being ridiculous. Well, he's never had his hair down and covering his eyes. Hinamori, of course, has that little thing she does with her hair." He added more somberly, "And it was a good recovery project for her, something frivolous to take her mind off things."
Byakuya's fingers probed the black hair tie. "One spell to keep things fastened, and another to hide the kidou," he murmured. Hinamori Momo was indeed a master of kidou. The work was simple, elegant and effective, and he would not have noticed the double-barreled kidou under most circumstances. "How do you remove the tie?" he asked.
Renji's eyes remained closed. "Just tug one end, and it unravels." Byakuya's finger stroked down one end of the tie, then hesitated.
"You're leaving the tie alone?" Renji had come to understand Byakuya rather well in the past months, and he had imagined that the tie would be like a red flag to a bull.
"Merely recalling a passing thought." The deep voice was considering.
"Ah." Renji snuggled more closely against Byakuya's thigh. "Let me know when you're done thinking."
Abruptly, he felt a sharp pull on his ponytail. "It is time to resume our training." The thigh pillowing his head flexed and was removed. Getting to his feet, he turned to faced Byakuya, sword hand gripping Zabimaru's hilt.
"So, what're we practicing next?"
"Bankai." Byakuya looked uncharacteristically hesitant. Then with a low, "Forgive me, Renji," he leaned forward and dragged Renji's shikahausho down his arms.
"Forgive you? Hey! What are you doing?" An elegant hand reached around a spray of red and it became a waterfall of fire down a bared, tanned back. The hand's owner stood back and surveyed the picture his lover made, the usual jutting confidence covered by momentary confusion and chagrin.
"I wish to practice in bankai." Arms deliberately loose at his sides, Byakuya awaited Renji's response.
As Renji searched the controlled intent of Byakuya's face carefully, realization struck him, and he could not repress a grin. He saw Byakuya relax marginally at his reaction. It was not the kind of wish Byakuya would express aloud, and he would only permit his actions rather than his words to point to it. Kuchiki Byakuya wanted to see his ilover/i in bankai, unbound hair, fur cape, skeletal snake and all. But he did not wish to evoke for Renji the memory of their first bankai fight where Renji's clothing had been sliced to tatters and his hair torn loose from the force of Byakuya's reiatsu. Hence the apology. Renji's grin softened into the smile he reserved only for Byakuya. "Really, Byakuya, sometimes you have too many scruples."
Are you fine with this, Zabimaru?
Che, you're master of your bankai. Do as you please. I'm not the sex object here.
Sex death-god, Zabimaru. How many times have I told you that, baboon? Sex death-god.
A rude noise was the only reply he received. Well, then. "Bankai. Hihiou Zabimaru."
Byakuya watched, enthralled, as reiatsu swirled around Renji. His lover emerged out of the tornado of power, eyes sparkling, madly grinning. His hair flowed down his back, rippling with the force of his reiatsu. The strong lines of arms, chest and abdomen were visible around the fur cape, accentuating the primitive masculinity of the man before him. That strong forehead and jaw, softened and heightened at the same time by their scarlet backdrop, those abstract black lines, wild and yet contained on their planes of muscle, the raw, aggressive power of the giant snake, held in the firm, steady hands.
Bankai was the culmination of a shinigami's control over his soul, but Renji in bankai spoke to something raw and untamed in Byakuya. It awoke the need to plunge into the heat of battle, to become one in body and blade, slashing and parrying in a fury of blood and muscle, to measure one's manhood against the other. At the same, there was the insidious desire to capture that masculinity, press it down to the ground, to be buried so deeply within it that it would never leave him, to take it into himself and contain it in the sheath of his being.
Taichou, are you going to dream or fight? Senbonzakura's voice, respectful but mildly exasperated, broke into his thoughts.
Ah. Byakuya awoke from his reverie. Bankai was not temptation but weapon. One treated it with the respect it deserved when one summoned it, whatever the reasons were for its summoning. And they had training to complete. Closing his eyes briefly, he spoke, "Bankai. Senbonzakura kageyoshi."
Towards the end of the evening shift in the Fourth Division, Kotetsu Isane entered Unohana Retsu's office, her face a study in bemusement. Unohana looked up from the patient files she was studying. "Yes, Isane?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Taichou, but Abarai Taichou is outside, and he's saying some very strange things about fleas and powder." Isane hesitated, then continued, "I've never heard him make so little sense, and he looks as if he's just come from training, but he won't let me check him over for injuries."
"Oh?" Unohana laid down her brush. Abarai Renji, like most men who had served under Zaraki Kenpachi, was notoriously recalcitrant in acknowledging the extent of his injuries or in seeking treatment. He was generally considerate of and gentle to Isane, but when he dug in his heels, her fukutaichou did not have the authority or the forcefulness to overrule him. "I will see to him then. He is in my examination room?" Isane nodded.
Unohana got to her feet and made her way down the corridor, wondering what ailed the Fifth Division captain. Based on prior experience with Abarai, Isane's anxiety was comprehensible. Training for Abarai usually meant a no holds barred contest with one of the Eleventh Division louts, though his recently initiated spars with Kuchiki Byakuya were no less forgiving. Their relationship, however, meant that they always sought treatment for the other's sake.
At the back of her mind, Minazuki chuckled. Ah, I don't think you need to worry this time, Retsu. It's just a difference of opinion with Zabimaru.
With Zabimaru? Despite Minazuki's reassurance, Unohana frowned slightly. Renji had mastered his zanpakutou, but the zanpakutou were weapons first and foremost, and Zabimaru was aggressive and fight-happy.
They engaged in a verbal disagreement, nothing more. Zabimaru's visiting for tea and to complain. Minazuki's soothing tones sounded again, amusement running like a thick thread through the words.
What happened, exactly?
Her zanpakatou chuckled again. I think I won't spoil the surprise. Go to your patient, Retsu. It will be an interesting evening, that I promise you.
Stepping into the examination room, Unohana assessed her patient rapidly. Abarai was looking embarrassed, and from the way he held himself, he appeared to be in some physical discomfort. However, she could discern no obvious injury, there was no scent of blood, nor any awkward posture that might indicate broken bones or overstrained muscles and tendons.
"What brings you here today, Abarai Taichou? Isane mentioned something about fleas."
"Zabimaru has fleas. And they migrate." Though Unohana was to all intents and purposes his personal physician, there were some things, Renji decided, that were too injurious to his pride to mention explicitly. He knew that his origins had given rise to the expression "Rukongai stray", and while the epithet no longer disturbed him, it was not one he went out of his way to prove.
"Fleas?" Unohana blinked. "Are you saying, Abarai Taichou, that you're were bitten by fleas?" It was a strange complaint for the usually hardy shinigami.
Renji shrugged defensively, then winced. "He has a lot of fleas."
"I have never heard of such a case. How did you know it was Zabimaru? Did he manifest?"
Renji's cheeks reddened. "Actually, I was in bankai."
"You have fought in bankai for extensive periods over the past decade. Surely the conditions of the battlefield were more conducive to the breeding of vermin then?" Unohana's voice was considering. Though many zanpakutou had animal forms, they were beings of pure spirit who existed in their own separate realms unless summoned by their wielders. They were quite unlike the animals of Soul Society or the human world.
"Ya, well... I... wasn't quite touching his fur then."
Unohana suppressed the desire to blink. She recalled Abarai's bankai, the giant snake with its mane of fur, and the corresponding short cape that covered part of his upper body. Given his current stillness and the fact that he had been touching Zabimaru's fur... The light was beginning to dawn. She had one last item to confirm, and yielded to unprofessional curiosity. "Abarai Taichou, were you sparring with Kuchiki Taichou?"
Renji's head lowered, not meeting Unohana's eyes, as much confirmation as it was avoidance of her question.
"In that case, please remove your shikahausho, Abarai Taichou, as I will need to examine the wounds." Under the mellifluous tones lay Unohana's usual firmness. Renji hesitated, then met Unohana's eyes, and sighed infinitesimally. Reluctantly and gingerly, he removed his top, and Unohana understood what had brought him to the Fourth. Flea bites were an understatement. His back, upper arms and part of his chest-- the areas usually covered by his fur cape in bankai-- were a uniform angry red, with a multitude of raised welts and lesions.
"Does it hurt or itch?" Gently, Unohana's hands skimmed over the reddened and broken skin.
"It hurts." Renji's reply was short. "Though not as much as battle wounds," he added.
Inwardly, Unohana shooked her head. Men. Abarai knew he had proven his mettle several times over and scarcely needed to defend his courage. All of the captains had. She had patched him up enough times post-battle to know precisely the kinds of injuries he had had and how grievous some of them had been.
"Abarai Taichou, I believe you owe Zabimaru an apology." Unohana allowed her reiatsu to spill over Abarai's skin. It would ease the pain, but the rest of the healing she would leave to him and nature. "What you have is contact dermatitis, not flea bites. Zabimaru's fur on your skin caused an irritation that was further compounded by your perspiration. There might be an allergic reaction as well, but we won't know for a couple of days so you will need to watch if your rash turns itchy."
"Contact dermatitis?" Renji's face went blank as he processed the information. In his head, Zabimaru snorted. "Irritation from Zabimaru's fur?"
"Yes, and probably your own perspiration as well. That's just from the friction, and developed immediately. And we still don't know if there might be an internal allergic reaction as well."
"Irritated and allergic." Renji frowned. "To Zabimaru." The frown became more pronounced. "Why does that feel so sissy?" His last sentence was thought spoken aloud. This irritation and allergy business was just the sort of thing people like Madrame would hear about, the gossip mill being what it was, and Renji knew he would never hear the end of it.
"I assure you, Abarai Taichou, that it happens to the best of us." Unohana's smile was serene. "I wish, at the risk of insulting Zabimaru, that it were fleas, because only a one-time treatment of the both of you would be required. In this case, you will always have to be careful to avoid triggering the irritation from now on."
A myriad of expressions crossed Renji's face, rueful amusement the chief among them. "Ha, yes. Avoid triggering the irritation." Then he turned serious again. "Unohana Taichou, I do assume that if I went on the battlefield, that the Fourth has ways to block the irritation?"
"For the battlefield, we will work on a solution." Unohana stressed the word "battlefield" lightly, but Abarai merely blinked and inclined his head. He had indeed come a long way from the loud sixth seat of the Eleventh Division and his early days as fukutaichou of the Sixth.
"And now, for the treatment." Briskly, Unohana turned to her prescription pad and began writing. "I will give you washes and creams to aid the healing. But you should also avoid all physical exertion for the next week as perspiration will only irritate your skin further. Also, if you start itching, come back to see me, and we will arrange for further testing."
"No physical exertion? Unohana Taichou, I have patrols all this week!"
"I will send a memorandum to the Soutaichou. I believe Hinamori Fukutaichou is well able to take over your patrols for the week. And I will send a message to Kuchiki Taichou as well."
This time, Renji flushed. "Erm, that's fine, Unohana Taichou. And thank you, but I think I'll tell Byakuya myself."
"You patrol with him, don't you? He will probably need to rearrange his patrols as well." Unohana watched, repressing the desire to smile, as Abarai's face turned the colour of his maltreated skin. She wondered how Kuchiki Byakuya would get around her prohibition. After all, Abarai and Kuchiki were still in the exploratory stages of their physical relationship, and if the other red marks that ran down Abarai's torso were anything to go by, his lover was every bit as ardent and inventive in their bedchamber as he was reserved in public.
The captains, at the very least, had been aware when they had finally decided to consummate their relationship. A couple of captains' meetings had been very interesting indeed. The two men would walk in together, stand side by side during the meeting, then leave together, the tension between them palpable. As Shunsui had put it once they were out of earshot, "Yare, yare. We should just lock them into the nearest room and seal the door until they get it over with."
Then from one meeting to the next, there had been a new ease that palliated the intense awareness between them. Everyone but the most obtuse had heaved a sigh of relief. Their mutual absorption had not affected the conduct of affairs in their divisions, but every one of their closer associates had experienced the awkwardness of their presence.
Now, Unohana wondered what further shenanigans would bring to either of the lovers back to her office. This episode certainly had its moments, as Minazuki had indicated. "You should recover within the week, Abarai Taichou." She handed him his prescription and turned to leave, then turned back again as Minazuki nudged her. "A reminder from Minazuki, Abarai Taichou, you probably need to apologize to Zabimaru." As Abarai bowed, she retreated to her office.
Zabimaru? An image of a baboon's butt was presented to him. Renji grimaced. The nue was pissed.
I'm sorry, Zabimaru, I shouldn't have assumed that you had fleas.
A loud sniff was all he received in replay. The baboon's butt was unmoving.
Oi, come on, baboon! I've already apologized, what more do you want me to do?
The nue sniffed again. I'm not mad about that anymore, I'm insulted that my wielder is allergic to my fur.
Renji narrowed his eyes. When he thought he had Zabimaru figured out, the nue always managed to ruffle his perceptions. That's something I could hardly have helped, could I? At least we didn't discover that in the middle of the battlefield. That would have been really unpleasant. Come on, Zabimaru, I'm sorry, ok? For being allergic to your fur, and for finding that out, if that's what you're pissed about.
A long pause, more crowded with thoughts than most such pauses. Finally, Zabimaru spoke. Yeah, good thing you're a sex object.
Renji's grin appeared. It seemed that his zanpakutou was now somewhat mollified. Now for some genuine groveling. This much, at least, he understood about Zabimaru. You know what, Zabimaru? We need to get stronger!
The furry white head whipped around. Stronger? The words were delivered in both the deep rumble of the baboon and the sibilant hiss of the snake. The baboon's dour face was interested, while the snake had raised itself high above the baboon's torso.
So that no one will be able to rip our clothing off in battle and trigger the irritation, of course, dumbass.
Two pairs of eyes began to glow. Snake and baboon gazed at each other in silent communication, as was their wont in all matters of importance, then faced Renji again. As you say, Renji, we cannot dismiss this weakness. We will train when you are recovered. With a farewell flick of his tail, Zabimaru disappeared from Renji's sight.
Later that evening, Renji found himself in a large wooden tub, the ice cubes floating on the water's surface lending a chilly tingle to the water.
"Really," he growled, "when Unohana said no physical exertion leading to perspiration, it was not to issue a challenge to your ingenuity."
A pair of fine-boned hands gripped his waist and tugged him against their owner's chest. Byakuya's dry, ironic voice spoke into his ear. "I am merely attending to my lover."
"Ha, I can feel your attentions, all right," Renji groused. "I'd like to see you explain to Unohana why we weren't following doctor's orders."
"Rest assured that any exertion will be on my part. And the ice should take care of the other matter. Do relax, Renji. and let me minister to you. We need to apply this soothing wash to the rash."
"Last time I looked, the rash was on my upper torso, Byakuya. What's your other hand doing so far down?"
"I believe the living world has coined a term for this. Multi-tasking." Byakuya paused, then whispered softly. "I am sorry, Renji. I never expected this to happen."
"Idiot. You said it, we never expected this to happen. And the truth is, I'm rather relieved we discovered this in peacetime. Besides, it's more irritating than anything." Renji ran his fingers caressingly across Byakuya's knuckles. His tone turned as hushed as Byakuya's. "Anyway, you know I wouldn't have agreed if I hadn't also wanted to show myself to you, to see that look in your eyes..." His voice trailed off.
"What look?" prompted Byakuya, his voice barely a wisp of sound. He could feel his heart beat quickening.
Renji slid his palm against Byakuya's and laced their fingers together. "Once, long ago, a lifetime ago," he began, voice gentle as gossamer, "I accused you of never looking at your subordinates, so caught up were you in your pride and your nobility. Yet, so much happened after that that I never thought about that conversation again."
"Then one day, I looked up, and realized that you had changed, or that I had changed, and I started noticing things that I never had before. How you set standards for your men and expected them to live up to them, how you paid attention, how you spoke for them, how you gained their trust. And when I had seen all of this and called you Taichou, I think that was when I truly meant it." He lifted their linked hands, kissed Byakuya's fingers, and continued speaking, his lips against the fine, white skin.
"Then another day, something changed again, we looked at each other, and suddenly, I wished that you would only see Abarai Renji when you looked at me, not your fukutaichou, not Rukia's childhood friend, not the protege you were grooming for a captaincy, just Abarai Renji, all that I was, in the immediacy of the moment, a man who could fill your entire horizon in that instant." His voice sank lower and lower.
"You do." The reply was low, and as firm as adamant.
Renji sighed, a puff of satisfaction and solace. "I know."
"Renji..." the words escaped Byakuya's lips, and he buried his face against Renji's neck.
"Ouch!" A yelp sounded. Quickly, Byakuya raised his head and loosened his hold. For a incalculable space of time, only the fizz and crackle of ice was heard in the bathing space, accompanying the deep breathing of the two men. Finally, the one in front leaned his arms on the rim of the bathtub and turned back to face his lover.
"I think," Renji's voice was very wry, "that we had better put the sweet nothings on hold till I have recovered." He darted a minatory look at his lover. "And if that's the best you can do, other things as well."
An elegant eyebrow arched upward. "I will take that as a challenge, Renji." An arm wrapped around Renji's waist. "Fortunately, the discomfort does not extend beyond your upper torso. And we both know," a stream of hot air blew past Renji's ear, "how sensitive you can be elsewhere."
"Starting to perspire here." Renji's tone was jaunty.
"The ice will hold, for the present. And there's plenty more where that came from."