So hey - this is the first fic I've published on this site. I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: For the ending of SS arc.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tite Kubo! I just play around with them. -grins-
Let's begin!
Zabimaru growled with frenzied anticipation as Renji cast him into the starless night, toward whatever unfortunate prey lurked ahead of them. Together they were invincible. The treasured bond they shared unreachable to hollow and shinigami alike. And yet, they had fallen together barely a week ago. And there had been changes in his master, differences he loathed to sense, and he felt the cherished connection between them become progressively strained under Renji's suppressed anger and hatred. The hands that guided him were not as carefree as they once were, not as subtle, or as cunning. They demanded obedience. Commanded Zabimaru to bend to his will.
They no longer fought together. A primal rage that coursed feverishly through Renji had shown little signs of abating. It made him appear to be little more than a madman. They were no longer equal. Zabimaru was Renji's tool, forced to attend to the whim of his instruction, even against his will.
Renji fought with little regard for the weapon he had prized, loved and cared for. The respect he had once held the deadly weapon with had waned, and Zabimaru was breaking under the constant pressure to bow to a master who would not be appeased.
He was equally as proud as the man who wielded him, just as quick to anger, and just as hurt by the bitter defeat at the hands of Kuchiki Byakuya, but he would not fight if there was nothing to gain from fighting.
And Renji was not fighting for reason or purpose, he was simply determined to become an agent in his own destruction, to tear down the last of the crumbling, remaining walls of sanity that surrounded him. Zabimaru would not fight for such a wretched being. Instead, he gathered the last of his strung-out strength and tensed sharply, reverting to his sealed form.
Renji started.
"What the fuck?" he gazed down helplessly at the unusually reticent form in his calloused hands.
Zabimaru had always been bloodthirsty and battle-hungry the moment they had met. Renji had always held him back, refusing to give in to the tantalisingly easy temptation of bloodlust. Zabimaru had never had that rigid self-restraint, he had thrummed with excitement as soon as they entered a fight, he had cried out to Renji if he left without slaying his opponent - even in training.
But now, he was silent.
Renji shivered in the cold night air.
Am I really so alone? Even the one thing I thought I would always stay by my side, has gone. Why can't I do anythin' right?
He slammed his fist into the dusty arena of the 6th division training grounds, revelling in the feeling of intense pain as blood slowly seeped from the broken skin of his knuckles. His strong chest heaved from the exertion of his brutal training as he fought to calm himself.
Why can I never fuckin' help the people I give a shit 'bout?
And finally, after being trapped for so long, so deeply inside him, black rage consumed him.
Byakuya frowned in diligent concentration as he drew an ink-dipped brush across paper; there had always been something strangely comforting about the sight of black words being formed by graceful hands. Not that comfort was necessary for him, he was Kuchiki Byakuya, after all.
He felt a distant flare in reiatsu, so faint that it was almost undetectable, even to him. But he recognised it instantly, and it seemed that his entire body had suddenly stiffened.
He lay down the brush.
Renji...
His dependable vice-captain's behaviour had become... withdrawn of late. He still completed the tasks he was set, to his usual high standard, if not better. He had recovered well from the near fatal wounds that he himself had inflicted, and surpassed himself magnificently by being able to call bankai, let alone wield it.
He is bearing his pain as a man should. And I should not interfere.
And yet, since Aizen had betrayed them, and Ichigo had rescued Rukia, Renji had become sullen. His infectious laugh had disappeared with his brilliant smile, and the eyes that had burned with unshakeable defiance and determination as they had faced him, now only held emptiness and a bitter loneliness.
I cannot allow this. He is...
...embarrassing the entire division. He will either attend to his duties as is fitting his rank, and in the proper fashion, or he will be dealt with otherwise.
And Byakuya rose, intent on dragging his lieutenant back onto the beaten path, even if it meant that he had to beat the stupidity out of him. He sighed and shook down the sleeves of the mandatory shihakusho.
I should not attend personal matters without a mark of my status.
He glanced over at his immaculate captain's robe and priceless white scarf, hanging loosely behind the door. I am sure most would not think any less of me. He launched himself into shunpo, following the familiar traces of reiatsu to their distressed source.
He landed noiselessly with his inherent grace, his black clothing barely troubled, the dust beneath him not stirring. The scene that met his eyes was one of devastation, and he scowled in barely concealed displeasure.
How far have you let yourself go, Renji? Is this really what's left of you? Is there nothing inside you that wants to commit itself to fighting Aizen and the rest of those cheating bastards, rather than yourself?
His gunmetal grey eyes roamed the shadowy training grounds, attempting to find the broad-shouldered lieutenant and put a stop to the chaos that was slowly suffocating him. It is pitiful that you have fallen so far.
He did not have to search for long, and launching himself into shunpo once again he alighted next to the bowed figure that had sunk to his knees, Zabimaru across his lap. A breath of wind pulled his raven-feather hair away from his slender neck, setting the silken strands dancing in the inky night.
Renji looked up at sudden and unexpected disturbance and swore loudly. Byakuya searched him slowly with unreadable eyes, and Renji found himself unable to look away. For a moment he thought he saw a flicker of disappointment cross them, but he tried to dismiss that notion unsuccessfully.
What do I care anyway? Compared to Byakuya, I've always been a disappointment. I've never been able to even compete with him.
His fiery temper reignited at the revelation, and he stood stiffly, his bloody knuckles gripped tightly around Zabimaru.
"Put the sword down." ordered Byakuya, his measured voice holding a distinct tone of command.
Renji grinned manically. This is exactly what I want, what I need. Fight me! He did not move, instead spinning the sword in his hand, intentionally taunting Byakuya. Fight me!
Standing silhouetted against the silver moon, his chestnut eyes feral and face covered in small rivulets of scarlet blood from the thousand small scrapes the training had inflicted upon him, he looked more like a demon than a man.
"Abarai-fukutaichou," said Byakuya, his voice cold. "I order you to sheathe your weapon immediately."
"Go fuck yourself," said Renji, baring his teeth in what seemed more like a grimace than an expression of pleasure when he noticed that Byakuya's eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly. Fuck yeah! Fight me!
Byakuya would not be drawn into combat, at least, not by such childish taunts. Have you truly gone beyond help?
"Abarai Renji." he said, and he might have well have shouted. Anger was frighteningly evident in his voice, and his jaw was set. For a moment, Renji looked pleased before uncertainty crossed his features, and finally desperation.
You were looking for... a way to die? the thought chilled Byakuya's blood. He watched Renji as the broken man returned to the same kneeling position he had found him in, cradling his faithful sword.
Byakuya's mind spoke a thousand words, telling him to execute this poor excuse of a shinigami; that the lack of control Renji had over his emotions would put him and others in danger; that this was pathetic.
But the heart that was hidden beneath the layers of dignity, and years of living in a state of no feeling, told him to find a way to ease Renji's suffering, before both of them were faced with considerably worse problems.
And so, he bent down to sit calmly on the sandy ground in front of Renji, and contemplated the other shinigami. Renji's eyes were closed tightly, but he could still make out the tear stains on his despairing face. Then he realised suddenly, Renji had finally lost control of Zabimaru. He felt an uncharacteristic pang of sympathy for the other man. What would it feel like to lose Senbonzakura? The sword had been a constant in his life, had fought with him, been wounded with him and been borne by him for as long as he could possibly remember. To even contemplate not having a loyal sword at his side was, unfathomable.
Renji looked up suddenly, and found his eyes. He pleaded silently, but Byakuya remained impassive.
"Why?" croaked Renji. "Why can't I do anything to help anyone else? Why am I so fuckin' useless?"
Byakuya felt something akin to guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. He had had a role in that partly, rendering Renji unable to fight when he finally cradled Rukia in his arms as he ran from the execution grounds, Ichigo protecting his back. He realised he had taken far too long to reply, and noticed Renji's mouth set determinedly as he saw a flicker of anger cross that face.
"Stop." he said, and the simple order commanded complete obedience. Renji hesitated momentarily and then sagged slowly, as if exhaling.
"I'm sorry, Bya- Kuchiki-taichou," he said, hanging his head and hiding his face in shame. "It was not my intention to disturb you, I'll be on my way."
"Renji," replied Byakuya, allowing himself to indulge in the simple pleasure of dropping all formalities between them - and he was rewarded with the sudden surprise he glimpsed on Renji's honest face. "I do not think that in your current state you should be going anywhere. Particularly to any place that has a plentiful supply of sake."
To give him due credit, Renji tried his utter best to look indignant, but Byakuya saw through the mask easily. How can I help you when you bite at the hand I offer? It is not a sign of weakness to accept help, though you clearly perceive it as one.
"You're probably right," he admitted grudgingly, and Byakuya's eyebrow arched in a slight challenge. Renji noticed the movement and adjusted his words accordingly. "Definitely right." He felt a small pleasure as Byakuya seemed appeased, but it was quickly consumed by the wave of grief that encompassed him.
Byakuya shifted slightly, so he was sitting more comfortably and began to speak. "Renji...you seem-"
Renji's eyes snapped up, and the anger that had recently dispelled was back with full force.
"Don't you dare fuckin' say anythin'." he said menacingly, his voice low. His shoulders trembled with exhaustion and rage, and his heart beat erratically against his ribcage.
Byakuya hit him, hard.
The movement was so quick, that Renji did not even register it. Only the sharp impact of the heel of Byakuya's hand into his temple made him aware.
The world spun dizzyingly about him, and the lean nobleman in front of him was suddenly blurred. He tried to open his mouth and drive away the pain with a thousand whispered curses, but he felt bile rise in his throat and so he kept his teeth clenched.
"If you're behaviour continues like this, I am obligated to report it. You may be my fukutaichou, but I am not willing to risk the reputation of my division on how you feel in a particular moment." I came here to help you, not to fight you. Can't you see that? Byakuya rose stiffly and turned to leave, almost invisible against the night sky. "I do not think Rukia would be impressed with your actions."
Byakuya's last words stopped Renji from spitting the retort that lay on the tip of his tongue back at him.
Why am I so fuckin' stupid? thought Renji. Why can I never see what's wrong and what's right until someone fuckin' points it out to me?
"I'm sorry, Kuchiki-taichou," replied Renji, his a tremor in his voice. "I did not realise..." how this was affecting everyone.
To his surprise, Byakuya half-turned to face him, melancholiness on his face. "No." he said simply. "We rarely do."
And Renji didn't know how, but he was standing, and Byakuya was in his arms, the noble's pale hands grasping at the black shihakusho that covered his tattooed body. Renji buried his face in Byakuya's sweet-smelling, soft hair, unrestrained by the kenseikan, seeking desperate comfort from the warmth and presence of another being.
Byakuya's lithe arms snaked around him, pressing their bodies against each other, the heat they each offered warming the other's frozen heart.
Renji bent his head to Byakuya's lips, and they met easily. Byakuya tensed suddenly, and Renji found himself pushed backwards.
"What the-" he began, but silenced his hurt at the look of murderous intent on the other man's face.
"Abarai-fukutaichou," hissed Byakuya. "If you ever attempt such a thing again, you will find yourself removed from this division immediately."
"You wanted it as much as I did!" retorted Renji, stepping towards Byakuya. Byakuya was silent, unable to reply to such an accusation.
Such a truth.
Instead he simply waited.
Renji reached out a tentative hand and brushed a strand of ebony hair away from Byakuya's exquisite features. The nobleman flinched at the action, but did not run, and Renji realised what it meant.
You're lettin' me do this. You just can't admit to yourself that you want it. The revelation made perfect sense in Renji's addled mind. Course you can't admit it, I mean, you're Kuchiki fuckin' Byakuya. To be seen with me... dirt beneath your feet... it just wouldn't happen.
Renji stopped suddenly, when another thought occurred to him. You must be so desperately lonely, trapped up there in that huge fuckin' house of yours. Who do you get to see on your evenings off, or do you just wander the gardens and keep up on the maintenance of the division?
Such a life seemed sad to Renji, even in his disorientated state, and he pressed gentle lips to Byakuya's marble cheek. He was encouraged by the fact that Byakuya did not recoil, or call out for Renji to stop, to remove his hand from him, and so he continued. He trailed quick, small kisses across that jawline and neck, before coming to rest at the corner of a regal mouth.
"I'm sorry, Kuchiki-taichou," he whispered. And the small act of deference broke the last of the remaining self-restraint of Byakuya.
Their lips met again, with bruising possessiveness and Renji traced Byakuya's with his tongue, asking for entrance. After only a moment's hesitation, Byakuya's mouth parted against his, and he slid with an uncharacteristic gentleness into that wet warmth.
His mind stopped working, and he gave in entirely to instinct. This was what it was like to feel. And suddenly their surroundings rushed back to him all at once. He broke away carefully.
We should not be doing this here. Not on the training grounds. Not here. At least, not for you. You deserve better.
Byakuya looked at him questioningly, and Renji simply pulled him into a tighter embrace in reply. Byakuya relaxed into the warmth that he offered, and rested his head against the strong planes of his chest.
They stood like that for a long moment, each reveling in the discovery that perhaps, they were not entirely alone.