Some had held their tongues, others had wept openly in the face of the announcement that she would become the twenty-ninth head of the Kuchiki clan. A hand on her shoulder, steady, reassuring by the gentle pressure was only eclipsed by her Nii-sama's former Valet, weeping that the other.
The one whom had been closest, who had shared part of his soul...could be so...so like the former young master.
The elders said no more.
(*)
"Senbonzakura."
"Yes, Rukia-sama?"
For one thing, she would never be able to get used to the Kenseikan. Stupid thing.. glaring at her small face, almost pinched cheeks with too-large eyes, she snarled under her breath, tossing the white clamps to the floor. "I can't.." she looked guiltily away from the vanity's reflection of herself and the crimson and black lacquered mask.
"..get it right. Can you..help me?" Rukia didn't like asking for help. Everyone knew that, it being a matter of course that help necessitated weakness. She was not weak. Biting her lip, her eyes slanted downward, closing in two strokes as the sword had deftly gathered the strands of her shoulder-length hair, snapping sounds and tiny tugs moments later as the clips settled into place.
"This style suits you."
His hands rested on her shoulders a moment longer than necessitated.
Rukia held her breath, the stiff many-layered formal kimono hung heavily from her thin frame. Yet Senbonzakura's touch couldn't have been more than the slightest pressure.
He stepped back silently.
She almost missed the weight of his touch.
Her eyes drifted to the mirror.
Kuchiki Rukia was no longer.
It was a stranger reflected.
Perfect, she smiled sadly.
"Senbonzakura."
"Yes, Rukia-sama?"
She didn't like the honorific. "Just Rukia."
She couldn't see his expression which she didn't like either, his head inclined to show he had understood.
"..Rukia."
"Thank you." She rose unaided. "It is time."
(*)
Looks.
For him so tall and fierce and she so dainty and small.
Fifteen years. He said.
Around that, I judge. Urahara said of the Gigai fashioned.
"That's enough." Rukia had replied unthinkingly then.
Now, with every step she could feel the days slipping away like sand grains between her fingers.
(*)
He was her constant companion.
Part bodyguard, for Senbonzakura would never give his opinion, choosing to support her in silence.
He supported her when the clan elders demanded she marry and produce an heir.
Blood relation mattered not, not when the name itself was to become extinct.
Was argued though the words were never said.
An heir-? She could think of not one of the suitable men paraded around her during social functions which no duties from Ukitake could excuse her from; that she would let touch her.
She said as much, laughter in her eyes as she swept a hand to her silent guard standing a few feet behind her. "Maybe I should marry Senbonzakura. He is proper to the lineage of the clan."
She spoke in meaning to the Cherry Blossom sword's claimant as descending through the ages as a weapon to the former clansmen.
The elders grew silent. One would think she had mentioned Ichigo- Ryoka in the same breath as marriage.
"You ..you can't be serious..." Murmured one, bald pate gleaming like a dome in the flickering light.
A little surprised that they would believe she was serious, she smirked, tilting her head askance meaning to catch the unmasked solemnity of Senbonzakura. Instead, the faintest of rose pinks dusted his proud cheekbones.
He was...blushing?
Rukia found the occurrence startling.
The elders cleared their throats nervously and proceeded to speak of another subject; that which they'd been placing all their effort behind.
Her immediate resignation as Thirteenth's Fukutaichou.
(*)
"Why did you blush back there?"
Senbonzakura's mask hid his emotions well.
"I did not."
He deliberately lied! "Did too!" she scoffed, glancing back over her shoulder every few seconds. Senbonzakura's pace didn't falter, his stride shortened considerably for her to walk ahead as the master.
"Did not."
"Did too!"
They were starting to attract stares. More than usual.
He so calm, denying. She so adamant, insisting.
For the sake of appearances, and the fact that unlike with Ichigo, she simply couldn't hurt Senbonzakura where it would hurt the most.
"You so did!" Then, stalked off in a huff, a blush of her own turning her cheeks scarlet, as she wondered most inappropriately how defined her companion's body was in comparison to a human male.
(*)
Five years.
Senbonzakura reminded one day.
"So, what?" she said dismissively, "There's still ten more."
A rustle as his long hair swished softly, head dipping in acknowledgement.
Silence enveloped them.
She raised a hand to absently rub at her eyes. From the smoke, she told herself as moisture dotted her lids. The incense stick burnt fragrantly beside her Nii-sama's tomb. Sadness because of the anniversary of his death, she reminded her emotions as a heaviness weighed in her heart.
She knew better.
(*)
She caught him a few times, just looking down at his hands.
Seven years.
Two after the sadness in her heart had grown, four after the suggestion that she marry him.
She started consciously counting the remaining years, then stopped because worrying would do nothing.
Instead at the earliest chance she went to see Urahara without Senbonzakura's knowledge.
"Is there any way to extend it?" Truth be told, she wanted more years.
"I'm sorry, Kuchiki-san." He said in reply, misplacing his usual smile elsewhere.
He couldn't give her the answer she wanted.
-TBC..
Disclaimer: Don't own Bleach.
AN: *Cold here* there is a little more, the conclusion of the last years. -.-; *tired* anyway, there is almost no SenRuki on here! ; . ; so moi had to contribute this piece to the archive. Thanks for reading!'
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