[ A/N: Hi, and thanks for reading! These works are set within the timeline of one of my other fanfics, Demons of the Sun and Moon, particularly after the events of Chapter 61 (October 1, 2002). Some of the finer details (like why Kūkaku has her right arm back) are explained therein, but this series can largely be read as a standalone. ]

[ The short explanation for what's going on in is that when Kūkaku negotiated with Byakuya about the terms of Ichigo and Rukia's marriage, she (on Isshin's advice) stipulated for political reasons that Rukia join the Shiba Clan (along with Ichigo, obviously), rather than Ichigo joining the Kuchiki. Byakuya agreed, but his primary condition was that Kūkaku had to appear to be consorting with him so he could dangle the possibility of a powerful heir in front of the clan elders to distract them from Rukia's departure. Kūkaku accepted participating in the ruse to get what she wanted, and relatively soon wound up spending many of her days at the Kuchiki manor. Things are cordial at first, and it seems like all she has to do is just hang out, but things rarely turn out so simply. ]

[ Each chapter of this story was originally written as a standalone entry, but there's a kind of logical progression to them and I have some idea of when they would fit into the timeline of the main story. Since FFN doesn't have series, I've decided to put them up as chapters within a single fic. Since I've kind of gone back and forth in the timeline, I might occasionally insert new chapters in place of old ones to keep the order of events chronological—if at some point you should notice the fic's updated, but you don't see anything new at the end, that's probably what's happened. ]

[ This fic is rated M for adult themes and situations, and does contain depictions of intimacy. The chapters containing it will be labeled as such. If you're not okay with that, I advise you don't continue. ]

[ Bleach is copyright to Tite Kubo, Shueisha, et al. I make no claim of ownership of it and this story is intended purely for non-commercial purposes. ]

Early January, 2003

The fire in the irori hearth had almost died to coals and embers when Byakuya carefully set a new log atop them, tending to it for a moment.

Kūkaku narrowed her eyes slightly in consideration of him partaking in manual labor, but quickly dismissed it. She'd noticed early on that he had a tendency to engage in hosting duties directly when they were alone together, rather than calling on servants. It still struck her as atypical, but it was nothing unusual for him. She drew the throw blanket tighter about her shoulders and took a long sip of her tea.

They were in one of the Kuchiki manor's many chashitsu; this particular tea room was relatively small, intimate, and relaxed in comparison to some of the others she'd seen, but no less ornate. The floors were a rich, warm cherry wood that was as much red as brown, and while the shōji doors were unadorned, the fusuma walls were painted with intricate cherry blossoms in whites and pinks. The tatami mats were oddly luxurious, and plush sitting cushions were scattered about.

Kūkaku knew the theme was rather common for Byakuya's estate, but it hadn't escaped her notice that the execution was more intricate than usual. It was clearly a room he liked. She'd gathered up several of the cushions for herself, along with a throw, and lay on her right side close to the irori for the warmth it threw off while they had their late-night snack of spicy wakame udon and tea.

She'd once more tried to puzzle out what was up with him and seaweed, but she'd made no further progress on the diversion, and her thoughts had turned to darker things instead. There'd been nothing ceremonial about the meal, and they'd largely eaten in silence.

Byakuya soon finished maneuvering and ensuring the log caught fire to his satisfaction. "Are you cold?" he asked. It was only a slightly more chill than normal winter for Soul Society, but they were in the middle of a cold snap. Given her attire and reticence to leave that evening, it had neither been difficult to guess she wanted nothing to do with the weather outside, nor any great burden to accommodate her in the depths of the manor. Her company had remained frosty, however, and given her current behavior, perhaps it wasn't that the cold had somehow seeped into the residence.

Kūkaku slowly shook her head, her eyes not deviating from the fireplace.

He watched her for a short time and then followed her example, considering the flames. It'd long since become clear to him that there were two ways of getting her to do something she didn't want to: coaxing her with subtle appeals to responsibility, or challenging her. He didn't have the need, the means, or the desire to do either at the moment, and so he did nothing. It was evident something was on her mind, but the silence wasn't oppressive—even if it became such, he could withstand it easily.

Things went on in that fashion for some time, the fire quietly crackling between them.

"This is kind of absurd, you know," Kūkaku eventually said.

"What is?" Byakuya calmly asked.

"This. Here. You and me. A Kuchiki and a Shiba in a cozy room, having a snack together in the dead of winter."

He pondered the matter for a moment before closing his eyes and taking a sip of tea, finishing off his cup. When he opened them again, he said only "Yes." It was kind of absurd, and yet there they were nonetheless.

Kūkaku's gaze flickered up to meet his as a frown creased her features. She returned her focus to the fire, but sat up and crossed her legs, squaring herself off against him. Long seconds passed as she considered what to say. His past with Kaien and Isshin, while pertinent to her line of reasoning, wasn't really what was bothering her—that was merely window dressing.

The Kuchiki had always stood for order, and the Shiba had always stood for change. They had formed one of the two axes of the Five Great Noble Houses, and had always been competitive and antagonistic, just like how the Hasegawa and their materialism stood against the Fujita and their intellectualism. Only the Shihōin were different, for their concern was simply survival and continuity—though they would probably argue that they didn't stand apart from the others at all, but rather enabled their existence and competitions in the first place. It didn't matter at any rate. The interplay between the Kuchiki and Shiba was ultimately the same as every other dance between reactionaries and revolutionaries—but it had a personal tinge.

Kūkaku briefly recalled Ichigo comparing it to the Capulets and Montagues during one of their talks. He'd had to explain Romeo and Juliet to her, and had summed it up with 'Basically, they died because their families hated each other.' Her expression grew hard and flinty as she thought about that, but she still had her honor, and there had never been a reckoning on this matter.

"You tried to kill my little brother," she said, her delivery slow and deliberate.

"Yes," Byakuya said. There weren't any special circumstances like between Rukia and Kaien that could be said to have caused a misunderstanding. He had tried—albeit not particularly hard—to kill Ganju. The wounds he'd inflicted had been fatal—and he'd deliberately made them slow painful. He could hardly deny the accusation.

Kūkaku focused on him.

Byakuya watched her steadily. The turquoise-green of her eyes was often tranquil, and was sometimes cold, but at that moment it was hotter than the coals in the hearth.

"And you tried to kill my cousin," she continued.

"Yes," he repeated. His treatment of Ichigo was even less disputable.

There was a long quiet as Kūkaku stared him down. The matter with Ichigo was plainly resolved—she didn't have to seek some sort of justice for him. Rather, she had invoked him to make a point through comparison: "But you tried to kill Ganju specifically because he told you he was a Shiba."

Byakuya was imperturbable. "Yes."

The din of the hearth suddenly seemed rather loud in the silence that followed. After a while, Byakuya looked down at it. He poured himself another cup of tea and set it down before once more looking at Kūkaku. "I told him that 'My sword was not made... to kill pests like you.' He persisted, and soon said 'I don't know how it is with you nobles, but a coward that could be scared away by something like that... does not exist in the Shiba family!' And so I decided to take him seriously."

Kūkaku's focus roved across his face, taking in the set of his features. He looked utterly calm. If he was lying, there was no tell for it that she could see. She had known then—and still knew just as surely—that there was no possibility of Ganju going against a taichō and surviving, let alone winning. And yet, if Byakuya had wanted to kill him for sure, he easily could have. Was he trying to say that...

It was a rather difficult and complex social formulation. There was no particularly good way of saying 'I decided to give your younger brother face, considering your formerly esteemed background and our mutual familial animosity, by trying to kill him with a fraction of my power rather than ignoring him or merely maiming him like a peasant, yet I also did not try excessively hard, and he was soon rescued anyway.' To just announce something like that would never smooth out any tension, even if it was direct and honest.

Then there was the fact that she hadn't wanted him to go along with Ichigo and company, yet she had also ultimately permitted it. She was responsible too.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes before closing them and drinking his tea in a single long sip. He set his cup aside and looked Kūkaku right in the eyes. A beat passed. "Three days later, on the day Rukia was to be executed, I fought my fukutaichō, Renji. He used his newly acquired bankai, and I used mine. My remarks to him afterwards were 'Be proud, as someone who, after being struck by this power, is still able to retain the form of his body.'"

He left it unsaid that, considering their relative disparity, the same could be said of Ganju surviving his shikai. He couldn't take back the events—they had happened. But they were also a product of the circumstances. He had been following orders, but he had also been operating on his own feelings. Still, things had changed—he had changed—and so, he could earnestly say, "It was an unfortunate meeting."

Kūkaku's eyes lingered on his for quite awhile, until she looked off to one side. That wasn't really quite 'I'm sorry,' but she didn't expect to hear that from him, and almost didn't want to. Things were rarely simple. She had already decided to forgive him if he showed any contrition, as with Rukia. It was easier, in most ways—Ganju was no worse for wear, after all.

The crackling fire was once again the only sound in the room, but it once more seemed pleasant and nurturing, rather than like some call to or remnant of conflict.

Her thoughts had just turned to gratification that, unlike Rukia, he said nothing more—even though that seemed utterly predictable—when the ruffle of his uniform drew her attention.

Byakuya stood, elegant as always, and made his way over to the tea room's mizuya, going through its supplies with practiced ease.

Kūkaku made a point not to watch him until he returned.

He picked up his cushion and moved it to one side, to the left of where he had been sitting, so he was next to her around the square of the hearth. There was a muted thump as he set a bottle down between them on one of the tatami mats, and then the clack of two crystal snifter glasses being deposited next to it.

She regarded the bottle with suspicion and confusion. It was also made of glass, and was shaped like a cone, the sides of which had been dramatically tapered inward. The stopper was ornate and made of gold, with a spiral running down around the bottle. There was some Latin script on the side, but she couldn't read it. "What's this?" she asked, looking up at him.

Byakuya had just sat down and began to efficiently open the bottle, pouring for both of them. "Cognac, Frapin Cuvée 1888."

Kūkaku's look became dubious. "Eh?"

"Liquor from the Living World. It is blended, but some of the spirits in it date from even before that year." He didn't bother mentioning its rarity or expense.

She knew that it had just turned 2003, by the Living World's reckoning, so that made it... that was before Kaien had even become a fukutaichō...

Byakuya picked up his snifter, cradled it in his palm, and made a point of showing it to her. "Hold it like this. Your hand will warm the glass. The aroma is important to enjoying the drink."

Kūkaku considered him for a second before doing as he had with her own glass.

Once she had it aloft, he toasted her. "To Kurosaki Ichigo."

She blinked and thought for a moment, then resolved herself. "To Kuchiki Rukia."

Byakuya clinked his glass against hers and brought it to his lips, inhaling and taking a slow drink.

After a moment of indecision, Kūkaku did the same. It was nothing at all like sake or shōchū. It was powerful, slightly sweet, and riotous, yet smooth—complicated in scent and flavor alike, smelling of dried fruits and nuts and more besides, yet tasting of citrus and vanilla and flowers. The only words for it were rich and heady, and she felt its warmth flow all the way down into her belly, submerging the heat of old grievances and suffusing every extremity to make both them and the cold alike mere memories.

He had already paused and watched her as she finished.

She pulled the snifter away from her face, in a bit of a daze. She liked her drink, but this... "This is..." It was very new.

"Would you care to finish the bottle with me?" Byakuya asked.

Kūkaku's eyes tracked onto his and she nodded. It wasn't that big of a bottle, and if she had too much and fell asleep in a place such as this... Well, there were worse places to be.

[ A/N: The following terms are going to remain transliterated (and, other than the last seven, italicized as is common practice in English for foreign words) because I feel they're either more compact or artful than their English equivalents: ]

[ zanpakutō - "soul-cutter sword" or "soul slayer" ]

[ shihakushō - "garment of dead souls" ]

[ reiatsu - "spiritual pressure" ]

[ reiryoku - "spiritual power" ]

[ reishi - "spirit particles" ]

[ gigai - "faux body" ]

[ senkaimon - "world penetration gate" ]

[ zankensoki - n/a; compound word representing the next four concepts ]

[ zanjutsu - "art of the sword" ]

[ hakuda - "hand-to-hand combat" ]

[ hohō - "fast movement" ]

[ kidō - "spells" or "demon arts" ]

[ sōtaichō - "Captain-Commander" ]

[ taichō - "Captain" ]

[ fukutaichō - "Lieutenant" or "Vice-Captain" ]

[ Shinigami - "death god" or "soul reaper;" this isn't a proper noun but is sort of treated like one as a group identifier, along with Hollow and Quincy ]

[ Gotei 13 - "13 Court Guard Squads/Companies" ]

[ Onmitsukidō - "Secret Tactics" or "Stealth Force" ]

[ Seireitei - "Court of Pure Souls" ]

[ Rukongai - "Wandering Soul City" ]

[ Senzaikyū - "Palace of Penitence" ]

[ Sōkyoku - "Twinned Punishment" ]

[ Technique names (e.g., Byakurai, Getsuga Tenshō) won't be translated, zanpakutō release commands will. Some incidental foreign words (e.g., ikebana, shodō) won't be because they refer directly to particular foreign concepts with only approximate equivalents in English (e.g., "giving life to flowers" vs. "flower arrangement" or "Japanese calligraphy" vs. "calligraphy"). For flavor, some honorifics and terms of endearment will remain transliterated rather than translated. ]

[ Italics will also sometimes be used for emphasis of a single word, but are usually used for thoughts. ]

[ Particular words considered in dialogue, quotes in dialogue, and dialogue that is being recalled will all be in single rather than the normal double quotes to indicate they're not being spoken aloud in the present moment. ]