He had made his solitary way back to the funeral service, placing himself back somewhere near the back of the service, head bowed in silence, the normally energetic frame not moving a muscle as he just stood there. He did not move a finger to brush aside the falling sakura petals, did not budge to fidget with the stiff clothing.
He just stood there, head bowed, completely silent, the perfect noble heir. The tears which were barely held in check previously were slowly pushed back, and the head raised in defiance. He was not grieving. He did not understand the concept of it. All he knew was that she was no longer there.
That was all there was to death, was there not? It was so simple, really. Just the absence of the presence of a loved one. He blinked owlishly as he stared straight ahead, aware but not seeing. The droning just went on and on. It was as if nothing had changed. And nothing had changed. He was the only one who had changed.
He knew what was going on now, and that was what had changed. Nothing else had. Everyone was still motionless in their spots, and that was what hurt most. Nothing had truly changed with the absence of okaa-san. Everyone else would move on. Everyone else would.
And he knew he was supposed to as well, but somehow, he just felt that it was not right. It was not right for his world to collapse into itself all at once. Such a sudden change was not welcome in the world of Kuchiki Byakuya. Such an abrupt disturbance was not something he wanted to even think of dealing with.
But he had to. He had no choice. He was the heir of the Kuchiki clan, the true first of all the others. He had to be strong even if he did not want to be. He had to put up an act even if he detested it. He had no choice. Any semblance of choice he might have had had just perished together with okaa-san. And he knew that.
He was not naïve enough to think that everything would just be fine. It would not be fine. He was going to be different, whether he liked it or not. And he could just see it. Despite his young age, Kuchiki Byakuya was not fool. He knew who he was going to become in the future. He did not like it, but he had no choice.
In his world, he could not stand up for himself. The only person who could stand up for him was already gone. And so had his future. Perhaps the gloriously brilliant future that awaited him would be something other men would gladly die for.
But not him. Byakuya had spent countless days staring out the window, wondering what life was like outside the walls. And on the few occasions he had ventured out, he found this insatiable urge to just fling aside everything and run away. But he could not. He did not have the courage to step out of his comfort zone, outside of his gilded cage.
He was trapped, as surely as a prisoner on the death row. And it was most ironic. It was the noble houses who would not be reincarnated. He would never be reincarnated. It was forbidden. He would never taste the freedom of just doing whatever he wanted. He would never feel the abject joy of not needing to do anything, not needing to shoulder any responsibility.
Byakuya knew that, and he kept it locked in his heart. The boy drew himself to his full height and listened attentively to the service, his heart locked and the key burning atop the pyre. He watched the flames roar to the heavens, and saw the ashes float gently up.
He stood there, stoicly. The wood crackled, and the smell of incense was pervading. He was grateful for the little things. He was grateful that okaa-san did not smell of incense, for he knew that if she had, he would have burst into tears.
He knew that he would have run screaming and fists flying towards the pyre. He knew that he would have cried himself hoarse, beating at the ground until he could not feel the pain anymore. He knew that he would have gone completely insane, inconsolable and uncontrollable. He knew.
And he stood there quietly, absorbing the scene in front of him, the only sign of his emotions being the half-concealed clenched fists. No one knew that clutched within the fists was a single solitary sakura petal.
As the guests slowly filtered away, he walked off slowly away from the crowds. He did not want their pity. He did not want their sympathy. The only thing that he wanted, and even that he forbade himself to think about, they would not be able to give him.
And so it was that he retreated further and further into himself, losing his character with each passing day. By the day he entered the academy, the reputation awaiting him was one of awe and reverence, but not one of warmth. He was the Ice Prince of Soul Society, and everyone around him knew that.
And even if he wanted to stop the cold emanating from his every syllable, his every action, he could not. He had not been himself for so long that he had forgotten how. He had forgotten how to laugh, to smile and to play. He had forgotten how to be himself. He was the Ice Prince, but one day, he was going to be Byakuya again.