AN: Credit for the idea which inspired this particular fanfiction goes to finer_verities.
Byakuya was trying to untangle his kenseikan from his hair. He had fought a difficult battle with a Hollow, and his right arm was still in a sling, so he could not seem to dislodge the hairpiece.
"May I help you with that, Husband?" Hisana gently sat down beside him.
"Of course," he said. Her delicate hands moved through his hair, undoing the tiny clips and gently neatening tangles until the kenseikan came out easily.
As she put it on the dresser, Byakuya watched her. She was tiny, fragile even, but she was the most beautiful woman in the world. As she turned to go, he pulled her gently into a kiss.
Sometimes Rukia reminded him so much of Hisana that it hurt. She was different in so many ways. There was a certain fire to her that Hisana never had, and a certain toughness that Hisana lacked. But sometimes she would do something so like her sister that it was like his wife was back with him.
It was spring, and the plum blossoms were blooming. It had only been a year since Hisana died, only a month since Rukia joined his household. He was quietly working in his study when he heard a quiet knock on the door. "Come," he said absently.
It was Rukia. She was carrying a tray of food, and she set it down before him with a polite bow. "I thought you might enjoy an evening snack, Nii-sama," she explained.
"Thank you," he said awkwardly. She seemed as if she wanted to say something else, but she rose to leave instead. "Stay," he said. He winced, realizing how distant it must sound. She politely sat down again.
As he began to eat, the silence stretched uncomfortably between them. "Have your studies been going well?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you," she answered.
"You are welcome to share the food," he said. "You did bring it, after all."
"Thank you," she said again and began to eat. She was so petite, like Hisana was. And she ate the same way, with just a slight hint of furtiveness, like she was afraid the food might be taken away if she wasn't careful.
They both finished quickly, but neither one was sure what to say. "Nii-sama," Rukia said hesitantly, "if it is not too bold to ask, would you like me to help you remove your kenseikan. Perhaps you could work more comfortably that way."
Byakuya knew he should refuse. But there, in the candlelight, she looked so much like his wife, that he nodded instead. Her hands were nimble, too, and for a moment, he let himself believe that Hisana, not her sister, was at his side. So it was without thinking that when she began to leave, he pulled her into an embrace.
She stiffened instantly and pulled away. "Nii-sama…" she gasped.
No, no, what had he done? He let her go instantly. "Please, forgive me," he said, unable to meet her eyes. "I…please leave me."
She took the tray and fled much faster than propriety allowed.
Abandoning his paperwork, Byakuya leapt out the window and ran out into the night. He wandered aimlessly, horrified at himself. How could he have let himself be so weak? How could he have allowed himself to let Rukia do something that only his wife ever did for him? She could not have known, but not even his servants assisted him with that hairpiece.
Byakuya found himself at Hisana's grave. What right had he to be there, he wondered. He had not only behaved in a way that no aristocrat should, but he had even dishonored his wife's memory. He fell to his knees, weeping. "Please, Hisana," he begged. "Forgive me." But there was no answer.
It was a cold night, but Byakuya wandered like a man delirious with a fever. He left the Seireitei and passed even through Rukongai and into the woods beyond. He took out his zanpakuto and began to slice at trees, bushes, shrubs until his hands were bleeding, and he yelled like a man possessed. He yelled and swung until his throat ached and he was exhausted, but the shame of what he had done did not get any better.
He considered killing himself. It would be the most honorable thing to do, since he had proven himself unworthy both of his title and of his wife's memory. However, he would only be betraying his wife again by abandoning Rukia, since he was painfully aware that none of the other members of the Kuchiki clan would welcome her. And he did have duties. He had many subordinates who depended on him. His personal choice or his duty…he had already made that decision. He had sworn on his parents' graves that he would always uphold his duty.
The first light was on the horizon, and birds were beginning to sing. Leaning on his sword, Byakuya stood up and faced Seireitei. "I'm sorry, Hisana," he whispered. "I'm afraid I am not worthy to be her brother." He squared his shoulders and began walking to his house.
If Rukia noticed the bandages on his hands, she did not say anything. She acted, polite and reserved towards him, the demure younger sister towards her honored brother. In turn, Byakuya held himself distant and aloof, the perfect guardian to his ward. He never mentioned what had happened, and neither did she. In time, the awkwardness between them became a habit, and they became two members inhabiting the same household, acting with perfect propriety, but with no bond between them. Byakuya felt it was more than he deserved for what he had done.
OoOoOoO
Fifty years later, Byakuya finally told Rukia the whole story, about him and about Hisana.
"Rukia," he said gently, reaching his hand towards her. He didn't touch her; he did not have that right. But she reached out and squeezed his hand in hers.
"I am sorry," he said.
She simply squeezed his hand tighter. In her eyes, he could see understanding, even forgiveness. He let himself slip into healing sleep. Perhaps he could still be a worthy brother to Rukia, after all.