Not edited yet. Sorry about that.
Byakuya had never thought Rukia was anything like Hisana. She was too bold, her violet eyes too passionate and brazen, her small form overpowered by an overwhelming sense of presence the small girl always brought to the room. No, she wasn't Hisana, but he loved her with a purer love than he could have ever expected from himself, a broken man left behind by his wife.
He didn't know when it was that she got behind his armor. She seemed absurdly talented in making him try to hide his smiles and keep up his mask. But he couldn't show her that part of him, couldn't ever bring himself to let loose as he had when Hisana had been alive. He'd lost too much. He didn't want to love her; he just couldn't help it. Then again, he couldn't deny that lonely girl love. He was just so confused.
Yet now, now he couldn't hold that hoarse yell from clawing its way out of his choked throat, his face contorted in fear for the first time since his vow at Hisana's grave. "Rukia, no!"
It registered in his mind that it was a twisted kind of irony that put him in this situation, a dark humor the heavens found fit to lay upon his shoulders. Her recklessness, that carelessness that so endeared him to her in her wild grins and tomboyish laughs, was about to kill her. His shunpo was weak from using too much spiritual pressure and he cursed everything around him for it. Adrenaline never could help anything but human abilities. But he couldn't give up.
The sword raced, fast as lightning, buzzing in its excitement to sink its teeth into her, and as fast as he tried to move, as loud as he shouted, that stupid boy Kurosaki, distracted her from her own safety as she attempted to shield him. Oh god. And she had used her bankai already. Her reiatsu was at its lowest.
"Rukia!"
And it happened that just in that moment, her eyes met his, indigo orbs wide with shock, right as the blade impaled her torso. Blood splattered onto the boy she had attempted to protect, left its hot droplets on his cheek as he finally made it just as the cursed zanpakutou extracted itself.
He caught her.
"Nii-sama…" she coughed out weakly, one hand clutching his robe.
"Don't talk," he ordered, surprised to hear himself sound so calm despite the emotions raging within.
"Rukia, what-?!" Kurosaki turns, eyes widening at the sight. And it's all his fault, but Rukia, somehow still conscious in his arms, turns even though he can tell she's in agony, and gives Ichigo a forced smile. He shunpoes away before anything else can happen.
He watches the medical squad heal her, her face pale from blood loss, but thankfully unconscious and free of the pain, the gaping wound would otherwise cause.
He doesn't know who the healer is; the battle had left everyone scattered, but he drags the exhausted man aside after he finishes and asks desperately after her condition. The man's answer doesn't relieve him. Her injuries are bad, the final blow damaging her spiritual center. She'd be suffering from the aftereffects for at least two weeks.
And at last, Captain Kuchiki doesn't return to order his troops, doesn't care what the hell happens anymore. He sits beside her, and for the first time since the few days when she was younger and Kaien had just died and she had cried herself to sleep every night, he voluntarily held her hand.
She wakes two days later and his relief shows. He'd hardly moved those two days aside from what obligation necessitated and the healers that had come swarming after him. Her eyes don't focus at first, staring questioningly at the dark ceiling (it's night when she wakes), and his selfishness to makes sure she's okay, manifests in his bothering her. "Rukia."
She turns slowly, wincing slightly. Her face is still frighteningly pale in the moonlight streaming in through the door in the Kuchiki complex, but her eyes are alive again and he's content with that. "Nii-sama."
"How are you feeling?" He flinches had how cold he sounds. Why can't he ever bring himself to be mildly more approachable in front of her?
"I'm… all right I guess," she mutters, but he can tell she's underrating her own pain. There's a bottle by the side of her cot that he'd been told to use if she were to wake in serious pain, but he hesitates to use it. His little sister hated medicine.
"How's Ichigo… and Renji?" she breaks the silence.
"They're here too." Somehow, he'd managed to get over his fury with Kurosaki to invite them over, along with some others to recuperate in the Kuchiki residence. He realized now that Rukia had probably been a decisive factor in that choice.
She sighs shakily. He notices her teeth are gritted and her knuckles are white.
"Here," he says, his voice softer than before, as he offers a spoon between her lips. She turns away from it.
"Don't… need it." He sighs. There's no use going against Rukia's stubbornness.
"Would you like some water?" he changes tactics. She nods slightly and he gets up to get the pitcher on the other side of the room. He considers putting painkiller in it, but can't bring himself to trick her. He ends up just giving her the water. She drinks it slowly and some trickles down her chin, an echo of the blood he'd seen her coughing up as he'd carried her to the medics' tents.
"Help me up?"
He obliges. She's fatigued and in too much pain after a few minutes, though, and he lies her back down.
"You should rest." She nods again, closing her eyes. He watches her, uncomfortable at seeing how much pain she's in, but hesitant again in whether he should offer the painkillers again. At last, she falls asleep and he gets up to clean up and rest himself. He didn't want her to see him in the day in the state he was now.
Byakuya found himself walking toward Rukia's room for the rest of the two weeks that she was bed-ridden. More than half of these times were unplanned and unintentional, as if his body led him there whenever he had even a few minutes of free time.
She met him with a smile whenever she felt up to it that first week and they sat together in silent camaraderie for an hour until he had to excuse himself on captain duties. The start of the second week, though, brought him a horrifying surprise when he entered to find the cot empty and his sister no where to be found. He hated to recall the frantic ten minutes as he rushed through the house in search of her before finding her sitting alone on a garden bench asleep. She had apparently felt the need to do something, after all the boredom of lying alone in her room, but still hadn't recovered enough to not find the mildest exertions utterly exhausting. Since that day, he'd visited her more often to make sure she didn't accidentally injure herself.
But his overprotectiveness only seemed to bring her frustration until he finally pacified her by allowing Ichigo and Renji to visit constantly.
Since then, there hadn't been many times he could see her without company. It was on the last day of the second week, when she had been deemed ready to start leaving the room to regain her strength, that he found her alone, sitting cross-legged and staring out into the garden, which was empty at the odd late hours he'd managed to visit her in.
She greeted him as usual and he returned it. He sat beside her on the cot and in an unusually daring moment, she leaned against his shoulder. To his own surprise, he ended up putting an arm around her and pulling her closer. The weather was chilly that night, he excused himself for his strangely soft behavior.
They didn't speak for most of that night. He realized that both of them were similar in how they liked to enjoy another's company while being able to think freely on their own. Words weren't needed to express their affections, as loyal and deep as any born siblings could ever have been.
That night confirmed that he had kept his promise to his wife well. He had given Rukia a home, even if that home wasn't the roof and blanket he'd been prepared to give her, but his arms to support her whenever she needed it, something he'd never thought he'd give to anyone ever again.
And yet, he didn't think what he did was due to his vow anymore. A smile made its way onto his face as he stared at the stars, his sister's soft breaths tickling his neck as she fell asleep against him. He gently draped a blanket around her shoulders. Rukia had never been a burden from a vow to a dead love. She was meant to be his family, meant to be his home just as he was hers.