I wrote this story two years ago and decided to ressurect it. I'll be finishing the final chapters this year. :) Thanks for reading!
SHINIGAMI HATE ANGELS
1. This Morning
"They say when you offer a dog a treat and it doesn't come," he says, "or it cowers, then it's a sign of abuse." He crouches beside a small, bone thin girl, whose hand is extended toward a whining dog. She shifts her weight from heel to heel and sighs.
Her mouth is lop-sided as she says, "I'm just trying to be nice to it. I don't see why it won't come." She blows a piece of dark hair out of her eyes.
"Just leave the food on the ground and lets go," he says. "The dog will eat it later."
"I bet it's just scared of you Renji," she says as she gets up. He pretends to laugh and hooks her under his shoulders. Her head rests against his ribs as they begin to walk onto the street.
She curls her thin arm around his waist and says, "there. Now we look like a couple." He laughs again, though genuinely this time. "So how is my older brother?" she asks, staring ahead.
"Successful," Renji says, shrugging with his shoulders. "Working a lot."
"So is he happy?" She asks as she sniffs the air. "I smell cheese pretzels," she says.
"He's happy," Renji says, "most of the time. I hate cheese pretzels."
She smiles and it lights up her entire face. She smiles and her eyes smile too. This is how Renji knows that she is genuinely excited. "So I met this guy," she says. She sucks in a breath quickly like she usually does when she's excited. "And I'm living with him."
"When can I meet him?" Renji knows that Rukia doesn't bring up men unless she wants Renji to meet them. So he decided to get straight to the point.
So did Rukia. "Monday. One thirty. We'll go for lunch at that new place on Rons street?"
"Alright," he says. "I'll remember to wear something decent."
"You better," she smiles again, "and don't embarrass me. I really like this one."
2. That evening
When Byakuya walks through the front door, he sets his shoes and coat neatly into their regular place. He loosens his tie as he heads up the stairs, taking a moment to examine the main hall. The walls, the furniture and the décor- it's all immaculate. Once it's safe to conclude that everything is in order- and that the maid had come earlier- he proceeds into the master suite. He places his baggage onto a sleek, black desk and wonders where Renji is.
The house was large and trying to locate him within it might take as long as ten minutes. Then again, it was more than likely that Renji was training in the basement. Although Byakuya couldn't fathom why Renji preferred to train there then in the home-gym, he didn't question it. He removed his tie and belt and then tugged his shirt out from under his pants. He slipped on a light, cashmere sweater as he headed into the basement.
Even before he'd reached the bottom of the stairs, he could hear Renji skipping. The heavy rope clicked against the floor quickly and echoed through the walls. So even before Byakuya saw him, he knew what to expect when he opened the door.
Byakuya leaned against the doorframe, watching. Renji had clearly discarded his shirt earlier, as it was tossed across the room. Sweat gleamed on his skin and looked as though someone had squirted him a few times with a spray bottle.
As Renji skipped, not one area of his body rattled. The man was solid, but Byakuya had already known that.
Renji spies him in the corner of his eye. "Welcome home," he says over a slightly laboured breath. Then he asks, "now?"
And Byakuya answers him, "no. Finish up and shower."
3. Next Afternoon
"Jesus Christ, Renji!" Rukia whispers harshly. She watched the man hobble slowly beside her. He sat slowly and groaned. "Look at your fucking face!"
Renji shut his eyes and leaned his head back onto the cushioning of the booth. "So what kind of food does this place serve?"
Rukia says, "American food." Her eyes locked onto the bruising outlining Renji's cheekbone. It was fresh and reddish and curved over his brow. Renji's face wasn't swollen. He'd known how to calm down an injury. He'd spent the early morning icing his face and other hidden bruises- he wanted to avoid any confrontation with Rukia.
"Oh, look," Rukia says, her voice brightening. "Ichigo's here already."
"That's him?" Renji says, lifting a brow. "What's with that hair?"
"Jesus, Renji," Rukia whispers. "It's not like you can talk." The way Rukia's eyes locked onto Ichigo, Renji could already guess the level of her infatuation.
"Rukia," Ichigo says, a few steps from the table. He gives her a quick wave and nods to Renji before sitting across from them. "So what kind of food does this place serve?"
Rukia says, "American cuisine."
And Renji says, "burgers."
Ichigo smiles sheepishly and comments, "nothing like a burger."
"So this is Renji," Rukia says in her introductory voice. She looks over to her friend and pushes his large, dark sunglasses onto his forehead. "He's got a bad habit of wearing sunglasses indoors."
Ichigo gives Renji a graceless smile and says, "Sorry for noticing, but that's one hell of a nasty bruise there."
"He boxes," Rukia says quickly. "That's where you got it from right? Training?"
"Yeah," Renji answers, his voice sounding tired. "Let's order."
4. Last Night
He washes the sweat from his long, red hair. As he rinses away the suds he wonders what brought him here. Was it Byakuya's loneliness? Renji knew that the man had a wife; and that his wife was dead. Perhaps it was an eroding progression that led Byakuya to take him in. Maybe knowing the answer didn't matter. It wouldn't solve anything for Renji. If for years Byakuya's lonely heart only got lonelier, it would offer Renji no consolation. How could it?
He stands at the bedroom door and knocks lightly. He hears Byakuya's voice, soft through the door, but still commanding and bitter. Byakuya says, "Clothes off and come in." When Renji walks through the door, stark naked and still damp from the shower, Byakuya glances in his direction with disapproval. "I expect you to train hard, Renji," he says. "Otherwise you shouldn't bother. You can get a real job if you don't fight well."
"I train hard," Renji says. "I have a good fight record. A few more amateur fights and I'll be able to find a worthwhile pro match."
"I understand," Byakuya says. He speaks coolly, so much so that Renji can never guess if Byakuya is genuine or not. "Regardless," he says, "I don't require that you become successful; you have only one obligation to me."
Obligation. Renji thinks that it almost sounds classy. It's almost subtle. As if on cue, Renji slides a hand onto Byakuya's shoulder. He pats him briskly, almost soothingly. He grabs a hold of Renji's wrist and sweeps it away. He'd never paid heed to what was hidden in the gesture. He didn't acknowledge the pat on the shoulder as anything but consensus.
It had always begun this way. Renji would reach out his hand; he would pat Byakuya on the shoulder as if to say, "it's okay." It wasn't though, not in the deeper sense. Tonight, though, Byakuya does things a bit differently. He asks Renji to lie down on the bed. He says, "on your back, please."
Renji clenches his jaw. He settles slowly onto the bed as if he was getting into hot water. Finally, he rests his head on the pillows and lays back. His gaze sticks to the nearest wall and doesn't waver as Byakuya wanders around the room.
In his hands is a set of cold, thin manacles. They clink as he places them on the nightstand. "If it's tolerable," Byakuya says, turning his back, "I'd like for you to wear those." Renji eyes them warily. "If you do this tonight, I won't call for you again this month. Do you agree?"
Renji looks at the manacles. He thinks it may not be so bad. It may not even be that different. So what if his hands are bound? It'll still be the same routine; and the prospect of a few weeks of autonomy is irresistible. He bites his bottom lip and grabs the cuffs.
Next update will be in a few days. Please revisit.
After looking back on this story, and others that I have written, I have concluded that I have used the bya/ren "rape" plot much too often. I really had a fetish for that... apparently.