It took Renji a stupid amount of time to sort stuff out. One of Kuchiki-taichō's aunties, the real ones not one of the gaggle of old women who said they were just to seem more important, tried insisting on seeing her nephew. Since Renji reckoned that was the last thing taichō wanted right now, he turned her down which went over about as well as expected. After a whole slew of insults about gaki and commoners from 'out there' that she'd never have used if taichō had been within earshot, Renji eventually resorted to a blast of reiatsu to get the old bag to listen. Well, that and a promise she could see the captain first thing in the morning if she left him alone now. She retreated, but with bad grace and muttered complaints.
That was when Saito, head of the manor guard, turned up to tell him about the mod souls. Taichō's reiatsu had fried the ones in the static sentries and a couple of the mobile ones had gone nuts. Renji supervised getting them rounded up and destroyed, then headed for the secure storage room for replacements, only to discover that a good half of the ones in stock were dead. How the hell that had happened, Renji didn't know, but replacing them was gonna mean a round of negotiations with Urahara, and Renji really didn't want to think about that right now. The timing sucked with the Shiba kids and all, and he made a note to have a word with Kira about loaning a few mods from the 4th to tide them over, until he remembered that Kira was now at the 13th, and might not be in a position to oblige.
By then he was hot and sweaty and since taichō hated him coming to bed in that state, he took a detour to the manor baths to clean off, which led to unravelling the knots in his hair and the never ending task of rebraiding the stuff.
When he realised he was seriously contemplating scrubbing the tiles in order to delay the inevitable, Renji had to admit even to himself that he was just stalling. With a heavy sigh, he slid down the wall until his ass hit his heels and tipped his head back to stare blindly at the ceiling. He was trying not to think about it, would rather think about anything else, but the images weren't going away.
Every time he stopped to catch his breath all he could see was that bit of wood heading towards Kuchiki-taichō's eye. Any other place and the chances of it causing damage would have been laughable, but there just wasn't a good way of using reiatsu to protect the eyes like you did the rest of your body. If you wanted to see, you kept the levels down, simple as that. So that shard would've gone straight through, blinding the eye for sure, and maybe even killing the captain. Did the kid know, Renji wondered, or was it just a lucky strike? It wasn't common knowledge, after all. He knew, sure, but then he'd been trained to kill shinigami.
Whether he knew or not, it would still have been Renji's fault. As fukutaichō, it was his job to watch his captain's back and he was the one who'd failed to make the situation secure. He should have used kidō but... Renji thumped his head against the tile in frustration, his fingers curling into fists on his thighs. Damn it all, the kid had been all over him before taichō turned up. He could still feel that hot insistent body pushing against him, the dirty stuff the kid had murmured in his ear, the hands in his hair tugging him down for a kiss, that tongue shoving into his mouth. The taste of him; nervous and horny and oh so sweet. Shit, what was he supposed to think? Kurosaki had been climbing him like a tree before Renji chucked him on the bed to fuck him. There'd been nothing, not a single clue that he was gonna try something...
Another sigh, this one dragged up from the depths. Renji dropped his chin to his chest and inflicted his glower on the floor. One hand drifted to his cock and he gave it an absent-minded tug. It didn't matter a single god-damned fuck what Renji thought he knew, it wasn't gonna change the facts. If taichō hadn't been as fast as he was, Renji would have committed the worst crime a fukutaichō ever could: his captain would have been injured on his watch.
The lampman's low cry in the distance brought Renji rattling back from his self-recriminations. Ten o'clock! Crap! With a curse, he leapt to his feet and snatched up his clothing. At this rate, he'd end up being punished for being late on top of everything else. His fingers fumbled stupidly with the ties until he ended up abandoning any attempt at propriety and just held his shitagi together as he shunpo'd out into the night.
Despite knowing it'd mean getting in even more trouble, Renji still found his pace slowing as he drew close to the captain's quarters. With a disgruntled mutter, he chivvied himself along. Whatever taichō had cooked up for him, Renji knew he deserved it, and it couldn't be worse than the pounding he was giving himself. Still it took a lot of guts to actually take that final step and hand himself over, so he was kind of relieved to spot a familiar figure outside the building; at least he wouldn't have to drag his own reluctant ass up the steps, he could rely on the captain to do it for him.
Not that that would be happening, not for a while at least.
Renji sidled back into the shadows of the trees to watch greedily as, wearing only hakama and with his hair caught into low tail at the nape of his neck, Kuchiki-taichō moved easily through sets of suburi. Elegant bare feet stepped and paced, paused and spun, stamping a dance across the cropped grass while powerful shoulders bunched and held, guiding the zanpakutō into precise swings which carved the air before him. It was breath-taking. Wearing so little, Kuchiki-taichō looked like a slice of the moon sprung to life, a bright ethereally glowing figure in the darkness.
But why was the captain practising at this time of night? Nostrils flaring, Renji tried to catch a whiff of reiatsu so as to gauge his captain's mood, only to be caught off-guard for the second time that evening when a sharp kiai warned of an incoming attack.
He only just managed to draw Zabimaru in time to block the sweeping overhead strike. Their blades collided, metal screaming across metal until they locked together, bringing their wielders chest to chest, weights braced, in perfect balance around the pivot of their swords. Faces inches apart, naked skin against naked skin and Renji couldn't help his feral grin, at the sensation and at his success. Was that going to be it? A quick draw challenge? Or was the captain looking for more? Hells, if he felt like a bit of rough, Renji wasn't averse to giving him a fight and then taking a dive.
He smirked and ran his tongue lasciviously across his lower lip, a slight thrust of his hips an invitation for the captain to change weapons if he felt inclined. In reply, taichō curled his lip in an arrogant sneer and Renji's face fell. Shit, he knew that look. That was the one that said there was no winning tonight. If he tried to throw the match, he'd get the beating of his life, so he had to fight to win even though he didn't stand a chance in hell of succeeding. Well, in that case, he was gonna go down fighting.
A sharp upward jerk of Renji's knee sent taichō scuttling backwards, hissing, his eyes coldly bright at the impertinence. Renji yelled and dove after him, letting loose a flurry of blows that got blocked so easily he wondered briefly why he'd bothered, especially when the captain seemed to take it as a challenge and opened up with an assault of his own in retaliation. For several minutes then, all Renji could do was block and duck and deflect, working through stinging palms and sweat dripping into his eyes and breath that caught in his throat at the sheer damned relentless speed of the man he was fighting.
His only comfort lay in the fact that, even last year, he would have been down and out by now. And they may only be using sealed zanpakutō, but neither of them was holding back. Taichō was fighting him with everything he had in terms of skill with his sword. No shikai of course, or kidō or shunpo. Only the most rudimentary hakuda, but even so, Renji was holding his own!
Real joy washed through him as he fell into the rhythm of the match and finally found enough balance to start looking for openings he might just be able to exploit. It wasn't going to be easy. Kuchiki Byakuya wasn't a captain for nothing. Block, block, step, block, there - There! The slightest drop of the shoulder as the blade swung! Renji side-stepped, muscles readying for the counterstrike, vision narrowed to that one spot, that single place of vulnerability – and staggered as his heel caught on a stone.
His knee smashed into the earth, driving a grunt from his lungs. He shoved down with his fist, intent on leaping back up, finding his feet, getting back into the fight, only to freeze at the sensation of metal against his neck. It was Senbonzakura, its edge hot against his sweat-slicked skin.
Cool fingers closed around Renji's where he gripped Zabimaru, and he surrendered his zanpakutō with a resigned sigh and closed eyes. "Sorry, taichō," he said quietly, resigning himself to the beating that was going to follow. He deserved it, whatever it was. But instead of pain, there were words.
"Up," taichō said and when Renji blinked up at him in surprise, he gave a quick jerk of his head. "On your feet. Over there."
Renji pushed up off the ground, yanking his shitagi back onto his shoulders, and took the required steps backwards until he collided with the pine which graced the entryway to the captain's quarters. Senbonzakura still lay against his neck, pressing hard enough that Renji had to keep his reiatsu thrumming just beneath his skin to avoid being cut. He frowned, confused. He'd screwed up his duties then lost the fight with a stupid mistake, by rights Kuchiki-taichō should be making him pay. What the hell was going on?
The answer to his unvoiced query came quickly.
A cool hand pressed against his chest. Renji glanced down at it and then back at its owner. "Situational awareness, Renji. Remember?" taichō said, and the glint in his eye suggested Renji was getting another lesson on the subject whether he wanted it or not.
"Crap." Renji let his head drop back against the tree. He hated this test. And loved it at the same time. Such a short distance between those feelings despite the chasm of emotion between them.
Senbonzakura slid down from his neck to his chest, the length of the blade lifting until it was only the tip which he could feel resting gently against his sternum.
"Hold it, and don't move."
Renji didn't need telling twice. He wrapped both hands around the bare blade, iron-hard reiatsu control the only thing between him and a disembowelling, and braced himself. Zabimaru flashed once, twice, and Renji's hakama fell to the ground, pooling around his ankles, another layer of black against a floor already inky dark. Taichō dropped to his knees, landing cushioned by the cloth he'd just freed, and stared up along the length of Renji's body, his heavy-lidded gaze intense and hungry. Torn between terror and desire, Renji felt his throat working and his dick stir. Kuchiki-taichō could always bring this out in him, get his blood pounding so loud that he could hardly breathe, and that before even a single touch.
Cool air played over his belly and Renji jerked, eyes flying open. He hadn't even realised they'd been closed. Taichō's cool eyes met his and held them as long fingers deftly tugged apart Renji's fundoshi, allowing the strip of cloth to loosen and then fall, baring Renji to the night air. He shivered, but not from cold. Despite the late hour, it was hot enough that sweat still gathered on his upper lip and greased his palms where they clung to Senbonzakura.
But it was nothing compared to the heat which suddenly engulfed him when Kuchiki-taichō bent his head. With a strangled yelp, Renji thumped his head back against the tree to block out the sight of his captain's lips stretched wide around his dick, and tried to remember how this went. Balance the reiatsu; not enough and he'd lose fingers or stab himself, too much and they'd have everyone down from the main house again. The only way out was through, and pray to any gods who'd listen that Kuchiki-taichō was feeling merciful tonight.
A tongue played up the underside of Renji's dick and he fought for control, breath hitching as his hips gave tiny abortive jerks, desperate to thrust into heat and wet and glorious tight suction. His knees sagged slightly and he braced, digging in with his toes and feeling the sharp grind of bark against his spine. Above him, branches like cracks webbing through glass cut the moon into chips and chunks of icy white. Renji fixed his eyes on that and thought of cold things. Of cool and calm. Of being the unmoving centre of the tempest.
His breathing steadied, muscles relaxing. He was still aroused, could still feel every touch and swipe and suck. Feel spit-slick fingers pressing into him, opening him up. Feel the welcome stretch and burn, the pressure in just the right places and-
The moon! Look at the moon!
Eyes watering and tears wetting his cheeks, Renji did exactly that, long years of practice permitting his gulping inhalations to calm again, his heart to slow. He was the eye of the hurricane. The still of the night. He was emptiness. The void. The nothingness into which every sensation could pour without consequence.
Then Kuchiki-taichō opened his throat and swallowed Renji whole. Every scrap of Renji's hard won focus shattered in an instant, scattering like Senbonzakura's shikai into the breathless night as his body suddenly overwhelmed his mind, over-stimulated nerves catching up with every message they'd missed and delivering them all at once.
Helpless to stop it, he writhed, hands tightening as his hips moved, and the blade burned into his flesh, the wet spill of blood onto his belly a mockery of the one he desired most. Renji gave a strangled moan, struggling to rebalance his suddenly wildly fluctuating reiatsu.
It wasn't going to work. The pressure around his cock was constant, the fingers inside him deep and insistent, urging him on with every stroke. A cry of desperation built in his chest, "Taichō!" and suddenly the blade was gone, exploding into a thousand-thousand shards of cherry-scented death as his hands clamped helplessly into fists. He arched, thrusting deep into heat and wet and a strong sure grip, knowing his captain had him and, like always, would keep him safe.
He came to as his chest hit the front steps of the entrance way. Kuchiki-taichō was behind him, already pressing inside and Renji pushed back, forehead against the wooden planks and spine flexing, his knuckles whitening as he took his weight and the captain's too. The familiar shape of Zabimaru pressed tight against his side, clutched naked in taichō's hand, was no surprise. The second part of the lesson was just as important as the first and taichō never asked Renji to do something he couldn't do himself.
A cool breeze traced the length of Renji's back, followed by the light brush of silken hair and an ephemeral stroke of lips against his shoulders, a series of soft kisses that culminated in a gentle open-mouthed bite to the nape of Renji's neck. Renji shuddered, every muscle unwinding as his breath gusted free in a gut-deep moan. Taichō's arm caught him about the waist as he collapsed, the captain's long fingers spreading firmly over Renji's abs bringing them together, spooned so tight that fate might have shaped them that way deliberately. It was perfect, shiveringly so, to be held like that, desperate for his captain to move but too much in love with the way they fit to want anything to change.
Already reeling from the sensations, Renji opened his eyes to a moving tapestry of pinks and blacks. Senbonzakura's petals danced around them; shield, screen and lovers' bower all in one, rendering them invisible to any observing eye, which would see only unseasonal cherry blossom swirling in a blinding whirl. Renji smiled, heart flying at the sight, at the inner beauty it implied, a jolt of possessiveness for their owner coursing through him. His captain. His.
"Renji." It was just a name, but whispered so gently across his neck, it contained worlds of meaning that neither of them could ordinarily voice and Renji reached back, twining his fingers into soft hair that stirred in the cherry-scented breeze.
A nip on his ear encouraged Renji to turn and he craned his neck, allowing Byakuya's mouth to crash down on his, opening for him and gifting all of himself as he always did, thrilling at the slide of tongue against tongue. The hand on his belly moved to his chest, nails teasing a path to his nipple where they tugged and tweaked until he was squirming and whining through his nose at the stimulation. Only then did it move again, this time up to his throat and chin where cupped fingers helped to ease his straining muscles.
Even so, the position was too uncomfortable for either of them to hold for long. Renji dropped forwards again, resting his head on his arms and spreading his knees wide. The hot press of bodies ended as Byakuya began to move, driving into him deep and slow, each thrust filling Renji until he gasped and shook, riding the edges of a pleasure he couldn't hope to fulfil again so soon, but sharp and wonderful even so.
As the pace and strength of the thrusts increased, gentle touches became a firm grip on Renji's hip that held him immobile, unable to do anything but clamp his teeth into his own arm in an attempt to prevent any of the sharp cries and moans crowding his throat escape. That plan was foiled as Byakuya relinquished his single hand hold and instead wound his fingers into Renji's hair, tugging his head up and back. The new angle made Renji see stars and he realised that he was hard again. Hard and leaking and that if this kept up he was going to come for the second time in an hour.
He choked back a cry as he felt another stronger yank on his hair and Byakuya growled, "Up," in a voice that demanded an immediate response. Renji reared back, abandoning the wooden deck in favour of a steadying arm around Byakuya and a hand around his own dick. A few tight rapid jerks and he was coming in hot, almost painful, spurts while, behind him, Byakuya's breath and hips stuttered simultaneously and Renji felt the strong shudder of release wrack his lover as Byakuya came with no more than a quiet gasp.
Renji collapsed, absolutely drained and still tingling head to toe. A few seconds later Zabimaru clattered onto the wooden walkway beside his head. He blinked at his zanpakutō stupidly for a moment and then grimaced as Byakuya withdrew, leaving him feeling uncomfortably empty and exposed.
He slouched down onto his side, squinting up at the captain who had sheathed Senbonzakura and was adjusting his hakama, looking no more ruffled than he might if he'd taken an brief evening stroll. Bastard.
Renji was horribly conscious of his own filthy, sweaty state, any indication that he might have bathed that evening entirely gone. His skin felt sticky and grubby and his hair was everywhere, completely escaped from its braid and threatening to throttle him where it clung around his neck and shoulders. He dragged it together, scraping it back and knotting it, only realising afterwards that all he'd achieved was to get half dried blood all over himself from the cuts across his palms. Now the main event was over, they were starting to sting, as was the shallow wound on his chest.
He flopped back with a disgusted huff and draped his arms over his face. He was crap. He'd lay money there wasn't a mark on taichō's hands. How the hell was he ever going to learn that level of control? Renji honestly wouldn't have believed it was possible for anyone if he hadn't seen the evidence himself so many times.
"Did you plan on sulking there for the rest of the night?"
Renji parted his arms just enough so he could peer up at his captain. "Wouldn't have thought you'd have wanted me in yer bed, taichō," he said, hearing the petulance in his own voice even as he spoke. "Certainly don't deserve to be there."
"Since you have managed to almost get me killed, absent yourself for hours and then return only to fail yet again, I can see how you would come to that conclusion." Renji was on the verge of groaning in defeat when Kuchiki-taichō continued, "On the other hand, you are hardly alone in your shortcomings this evening."
There was something in his voice, some burr of concern. Renji shot upright and cast a quick glance towards the main bedroom before returning his attention to his captain. "What the hell happened? Are you okay?"
"I am. As is the boy, if a little... sore," taichō replied, taking a seat next to Renji on the steps. The admission was enough to make Renji's brain stutter to a halt. He hadn't thought his captain the type to take what wasn't on the table and, as far Renji'd been able to tell when he left, Kurosaki wasn't even thinking about offering. He muttered something along those lines and got a sideways look for his trouble. "Not for that reason," taichō replied dryly. "Only a madman would attempt such a thing with that one at the moment. Which leads me to the question - Renji, what was he like when you brought him here?"
Funny you should ask, Renji thought, I've been retreading that ground myself all evening. He cast his eyes skyward for a second, gathering his thoughts. The moon was high and bright which meant it was getting stupidly late. "Really into it," he said aloud finally. "Obviously inexperienced but he was all over me, hands everywhere and the stuff he was saying. Seriously, if I'd thought he was any sort of threat I'd have had him trussed up like a chicken."
Kuchiki-taichō hummed under his breath and then said, "As I suspected, he is an excellent actor."
"He is?" Renji blurted, adding a second later when he realised that that probably didn't sound the way he meant it to, "Yeah, I mean, yeah he is. Totally pulled a fast one on me, sir."
A sudden flicker of reiatsu came from beside him and a dim glow split the night emanating from the ball of light now hovering above taichō's hand. "As he did on me, Renji," the captain said, and inclined his head, allowing the light to illuminate what the night had hidden up until now. The beginnings of a large bruise darkened the left side of the captain's jaw.
"Shit!" The expletive escaped before Renji could stop it. His hand flew to his captain's face, fingers ghosting over the skin which felt the slightest bit warmer compared to the rest of that cool perfection. The next second he was on his feet, face set towards the door, fists tight. "I'm gonna kill that little -"
"Renji." His name and the slightest touch on his arm stopped him as firmly as a direct command. He clamped his teeth closed around the rest of what he wanted to say and waited. It took the captain a moment or two but he got there eventually. "It was a lucky blow, nothing more. And he was soundly punished for it."
"I hope you thrashed his ass," Renji replied and you could have knocked him down with a feather when taichō smirked up at him and said, "That is precisely what I did."
"You..." Renji sat back down, not entirely sure his knees would keep him upright. He was torn between shock that his captain had actually lowered himself to carry out such a punishment and bitter resentment that he hadn't got back early enough to witness it. Damn that had to have been a sight to behold. "You spanked him?" he asked, just to clarify.
Taichō dipped his chin. "It seemed appropriate for such childish behaviour. Though I have to concede that he may not regard it as such." He was rubbing his right hand against his thigh as he spoke. Renji captured it and opened the fingers, rotating the wrist so the kidō lit it brightly.
A slightly reddened line ran across the width of his palm; unlike the slices on Renji's hands, this was the only evidence of taichō having held Zabimaru's naked blade through his orgasm. As for the rest... The damage would never have shown on Renji's hands, they were too large, too thick. By contrast Kuchiki-taichō's hands were delicate for a man's. Strong and calloused from sword and fist, yes, but also slim and elegant, and those long fingers were almost as bruised as his chin and looked a little swollen.
"You used reiatsu?" Renji asked, glancing up at taichō's face. He was regarding his own hand with something a little like wonder and perhaps a little apprehension.
"I did. Without he would have felt nothing." His gaze rose to meet Renji's. "Have you heard of the Quincy?"
Renji frowned. "That creep Urahara said the kid's mom was one."
"Indeed, but do you know anything more?"
"Erm..." Renji havered, unwilling to admit ignorance but neither able to outright lie.
Taichō saved him from himself. "They were a breed of humans capable of, among other things, using reishi to empower their weapons."
"Using reishi?" Renji asked, with a frown.
"I will have to check the archives for the specific detail, however the boy is certainly capable of breaking free of a low level kidō, which was how he managed to surprise me. I had thought him secured."
Renji's belly curdled in self-disgust. Of course taichō hadn't been taken in by the kid's acting ability. No one'd be that stupid, just dumb old Renji. Then a thought occurred and he shot his captain a concerned look. "Hang on, what've got wrapped round him now?"
The light which lit Kuchiki-taichō's eyes was as smug as Renji had ever seen it. "Come and see."
After grabbing his hakama, Renji trailed his captain into the building past a stack of ruined screens piled in the entranceway. Apparently seeing to Kurosaki hadn't been the only thing taichō had been doing while Renji was away. The screens would be cleared by staff from the main house in the morning and Renji knew he'd better be up to supervise. Taichō didn't like any but his most trusted people working around his private quarters without an overseer, an attitude Renji whole-heartedly embraced. You never knew if someone had managed to buy one of them off.
Inside, past the doors to the main room, they reached Kuchiki-taichō's bedroom and there was Kurosaki, lying at the foot of the bed in a tangle of long pale limbs and lavender coloured rope. It was as pretty a sight as Renji had ever seen, but his knee jerk reaction had nothing to do with the flawless alignment of knot and cord, nor the way the kid's arms and legs had been secured to perfectly frame his ripely glowing ass.
"You used – that rope?" He managed to bite back the 'my' at the very last second. Going by the way taichō tilted his head, Renji might as well not have bothered.
"It seemed advisable since the wildflower silk renders it the most reiatsu resistant material in Soul Society," the captain said as he moved over to the kid and knelt beside him, one elegant hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder. Renji swallowed down a hard lump of jealousy, because taichō didn't belong to him, no matter how much he wished it was true, and held his tongue as cool grey eyes glanced back at him. "The sleep spell is beginning to wear off. Go and wash, Renji, and this time return quickly. The night grows late and I wish to be clean myself before retiring."
Of course. Renji bowed and ducked out, quickly dropping by the servants' rooms on the way to the bath to let them know Kuchiki-sama was going to need a hand and to ask them to ensure breakfast was served early the following morning. It was bound to busy and, despite the late hour and promised lack of sleep, the captain would want to up and moving with the sun.
No longer sweaty and disgusting, and with his hair re-braided for bed, Renji was done and heading back towards the main bedroom within ten minutes. Taichō passed him in the hallway with no more than a nod in his direction, which Renji took to mean all was well. Sure enough Kurosaki was still flat out when Renji bent to give the ropes a thorough check over before preparing the bed for sleep.
Taichō had moved him, loosened the ropes for sleeping and slipped a pillow beneath him. He might have cramp by morning, but no worse than that, Renji knew from experience. Interestingly, the almost corpse-like stillness of the spell had given way to a slight restlessness which looked like true sleep. Renji guessed it shouldn't be a surprise. It'd been a hell of a day for the kid and, by the looks of the bruising on his ass and dried tear marks on his face, Kuchiki-taichō hadn't gone easy on him at all.
"Told ya to listen to him, didn't I," he said, keeping his voice low as he tugged one of the light weight quilts off the bed to tuck the kid in for the night. "If you'd just stop fighting him, you'd see. He's a good man. The type who keeps promises, even if they seem impossible when he makes them."
Like the one he'd given Renji all those years ago.
Once the bed covers were rolled back, Renji settled into a comfortable seiza with Zabimaru across his knees and waited for taichō to return, sorting through the day's events and noting any that taichō should be made aware of in case something happened in the night. Once that was done, he let his mind drift and, inevitably dropped into his inner world.
Evening, Zabi, he said the moment he felt the chill of the desert night on his bare skin.
A snarly grumble from behind him said, More like middle of the night, and was followed by an irritable sleepy hiss that made no attempt at all to form words but still conveyed the underlying meaning just fine.
Renji grinned at the familiar voices and spun round on his ass pulling his knees up to his chin and hugging them close. He was barefoot and wore only a thigh length ragged tunic, as he always did in this world, and his hair was shorter, caught up in high tail unlike his normal heavy braid. Why his appearance reverted, he didn't know. Nor did taichō, though he'd suggested it might be something to do with when Renji had first heard Zabi's name. Which, he guessed, also explained why this place bore such a strong resemblance to the proving grounds.
And didn't that bring back memories. Renji took a moment to indulge, recalling the ignorant child he'd been back then.
For years he'd kicked around the camps, skipping from one to the next every time the shinigami came around 'recruiting'. He'd wanted nothing to do with them. As far as Renji was concerned they were nothing but bullies and brutes, an opinion he'd formed early and had seen no reason to change. But that day... that day...
…
"Oi, you!"
Renji took one look behind him, spotted black uniforms, and ran. There was a good half dozen of them, but they wouldn't catch him. Couldn't. He was way too fast for any shinigami.
A shadow fell across his path. Renji glanced up just in time to see an evil grin and the blunt end of sword heading towards him before a sharp blow to his temple took his legs and his awareness at the same moment. He was down and out before he even knew it.
He awoke, who knew how much later, desperate for a drink and panting under the pounding heat of the sun. Sweaty bodies pressed up against him on all sides and when he tried to wriggle out from amongst them, he realised he was shackled hand and foot. He shoved an elbow backwards, snarling over his shoulder at the guy who had his knee dug into Renji's spine, but the guy didn't react. His eyes were open but they were blank, unseeing. Like he was already dead and his body just hadn't noticed yet. A quiet moaning started up somewhere nearby and someone started sobbing. Renji kept his gaze averted, he didn't want to be a part of anything as cowardly as that. Okay, so it was looking bad, but whatever was going to happen couldn't warrant shedding tears over.
"On your feet, scum!" someone yelled and almost everyone scrambled up. Once standing, Renji could see there was about fifty prisoners, all men and all about his level of maturity or older, most in the rags of the higher districts but a couple in robes and sandals that suggested the lower, more civilised, ones. Was this a press gang? That seemed the most likely explanation. It wasn't the first sweep he'd been caught up in, nor the first he'd escaped. All he needed to do was keep his eyes open for a chance. Once he was back in the alleys of Rukongai, they'd never find him again.
Only something was different this time. As he shuffled forwards, dragged by the man he was chained to, Renji realised they weren't in Rukongai any longer, at least not any part he knew. That had mostly been Inuzuri and the districts adjacent to it, which granted weren't much more than a collection of huts and shacks, but it had been something. Out here, there was nothing. From horizon to horizon, there was only flat tussocky grass shimmering in the dusty heat.
Apart from the shinigami, that was. There was a whole gang of them like a flock of crows in their dark uniforms, flapping around and arguing in loud raucous voices and posturing. Beyond them stood a couple of open-fronted tents, within whose darkly shadowed interiors Renji could just see figures moving about. Who they were, he didn't know, but the odd flash of white said they couldn't be shinigami.
Then the group in front of the tents dispersed. One of them, a huge guy with long hair, an eye patch, and a terrifying grin that Renji realised was familiar, strode over to stand front of the prisoners. Some of the shinigami formed a rough perimeter around them and the long lengths of chain which attached the prisoners into groups of ten or so were unlocked and dragged away. That caused a buzz of voices, some in fear, some hope. Renji took the chance to work at the shackle around his wrists, trying to collapse his hand enough to tug it free. He gave up almost immediately; the fit was too tight.
The big guy stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled, long and piercing. Silence fell amongst the prisoners and, once he had their attention, he began speaking. "I've said this before, but for those of you who're hard of thinking, I'll go over it again," he said, standing with arms crossed over a chest that was more like a cliff face than anatomy. "You lot have reached the end of the road. We don't mind feeding kiddies, but adults is somethin' else, so every few years we have a bit of clean out, got it. Get rid of the hangers on, take out the trash. Which, in case you was wondering, is you lot."
Okay, this was definitely not a press gang. Starting to have a bad feeling where this might be going, Renji shot a worried look at the other shinigami, wondering if there was any way he could get past them if, by some miracle, he could get the shackles off his wrists and ankles. It didn't seem likely, they were too close together.
The boss shinigami was still speaking. "What we're gonna do today is see if any of you shitheads have got anything like potential. If you have, you might be given a chance to fight in the pits in Seireitei. It ain't pretty but at least you'll die with a sword in yer hands. For those that don't, well..." He looked around at the desolate landscape. "Reckon no one'll miss ya if we slit yer throats and leave ya out here to rot."
Holy shit! The stories about the killing fields were true! Over the years Renji had heard rumours but he'd always dismissed them; friend of a friend stuff never added up to much in his experience. But this... Crap, he was gonna die. Like a dog in the dust because he didn't have a scrap of talent, and he knew it. He was a thief and a brawler, not a swordsman, and it wouldn't matter if they gave him the finest steel in Soul Society, he still wouldn't be able to fight with it.
Then let me.
Renji winced when he heard the voice rumble in his head. Damn it, this was not a good time for them to turn up. The last thing he needed was to end up distracted.
Shut up and go away! he thought back furiously.
In reply he got an animalistic snarl overlaid with a hiss that sounded like a snake and, If you die, we die with you and we're not about to let that happen, boy.
"Then make yourself useful and tell me how to escape," Renji whispered and then mentally kicked himself. He was having a conversation with an invisible friend in his own head when he should be looking for a way out.
The huge shinigami had shut up for now but time was definitely running short because, as Renji watched, the first two guys in line were dragged out front and their shackles removed. They were both handed a sword and then the shinigami stood back to watch. What followed hardly qualified as a fight at all. One of the guys didn't have a clue how to even hold a sword. The other was a sadistic thug. After the third blow hit home and blood really started flowing, Renji stopped watching, turning his back and closing his eyes. Unfortunately he couldn't block his ears, couldn't stop himself hearing the begging and the screams, or avoid the wet crunch that made the world fall silent.
Chin on his chest and eyes screwed shut, Renji made himself a promise, if he was gonna die here, he'd go down fighting up to the very last second.
That's more like it, the deep voice said and the other hissed, Lissten close and we will help.
How? Renji demanded. So far all you've done is call me names and distract me at the wrong time. Remember last week?
A sense of embarrassment swirled round the inner presences. Sserved you right, the hiss came finally and would probably have said more if the deep voice hadn't rumbled over the top of it, Hush snake-tail, save it for later. Renji, when you're given the sword, you need to call us out. You need to say our name aloud.
Your name? The next pair had already been dragged out and since neither of them put up much of a fight, the shinigami stepped in pretty quick and finished them off. Their bodies were tossed on top of the first guy and it was easy to see that the pile was going to get much bigger and fast. The rest of the group were getting frantic, pushing and shoving to avoid being at the front. Renji, being one of the younger, smaller ones, was swept forward in the crush and before he could fight his way back in, a massive hand closed round his elbow and hauled him out.
"You'll do."
He looked up into the feral grin of the shinigami with the eye patch. This close, Renji could see his skin was a patchwork of scars and his uniform looked as though it had been stitched together from several different sets. Around his arm he wore a wooden badge with the number eleven and a diamond carved onto it. Renji stared up at him from his half-crouched position, seeing nothing but scorn in the shinigami's eyes, and forced himself to straighten his legs, push his shoulders back and stiffen his spine, even if his knees were shaking. The big guy cocked his head and some of the contempt faded. He nodded and then the shackles were gone, a sword was pushed into Renji's hand and he was shoved out into the dust and dirt of the makeshift arena.
The sword's grip was sticky under his fingers from the previous prisoner's blood. Renji made himself ignore it, clutched it tight with both hands and raised his head to look at his opponent. The guy was smaller than him, blonde and almost delicate, but the way he stood and the way he held his sword said he knew what he was doing. Shit.
Renji swallowed, raised his blade and waited for blondie to make the first move. When it came, it was so fast that Renji almost missed it. He managed to swing his sword round into a haphazard block and felt his opponent's blade skitter along the rough edge almost slicing up his fingers before he leapt away. That shouldn't happen, he thought. It shouldn't be able to do that.
Then stop it, the deep rumble came inside his head.
Not now! Renji all but screamed, dancing out of range of another lunge.
Yes, right now. Call our name, Renji. Let us join the fight! Let us help!
It was stupid. How could a voice inside his head help in sword fight. Blondie attacked again, his blows fast and impossible to block. Pain blossomed across Renji's ribs and he gasped, one hand instinctively going to cover the injury.
"First blood!" someone called out. And in its wake he heard bets being laid. The odds against him were huge. He doubted there was anyone willing to wager even a single kan -
"Five thousand on the redhead."
Silence fell and even blondie paused for a moment, his blade dipping as he stared at the speaker. Renji turned to look as well. It was the huge shinigami from before, who was now frowning at him and looking mad for some reason. "Don't turn yer back on him, yer fool," he bellowed, gesturing, and Renji spun back round just in time to get the tip of the blade through his left shoulder. His arm went slack almost immediately and he could feel hot blood running down the inside of his elbow.
A disgusted, "Fuck!" came from behind him and he knew he had let the big guy down. Damn it all, he'd let himself down. What sort of idiot turned their back on an enemy during a fight. He didn't need a sword in his hand to know that was a bad move.
But he wasn't going to allow being down to one arm stop him. He took his stance and tried to ignore the throbbing pain and the blood and dust and the heat. Blondie came at him again and he managed to block, feet sliding back as he had to give ground. He tried for a kick, felt it connect and tried another. Now blondie was the one trying to get away. He wasn't a brawler at all, Renji realised, feeling a sudden surge of hope. If he could disarm him, get rid of the sword, he could take him out it easily. But how the hell was he going to do that?
Ssay our name. The hiss flowed across his nerves making the small hairs on his neck stand up.
"But I don't know your name!" Renji yelled, completely unaware that he'd shouted the words aloud. Then blondie lunged. Renji did his best to block knowing, even as he did so, that it wasn't going to work, that he was too slow. The blade thrust towards him at chest level, the sun glinting off the edge as it came, and Renji knew that it carried his death with it. He drew in a breath, knowing it would be his last, and screamed the words that were scrawled in fire and blood across his mind.
"Howl, Zabimaru!"
The sword in his hand kicked and he almost lost his grip on it. Then it changed shape, widening and thickening and growing fangs like a snake. Blondie's blade rammed into it and crumpled like clay meeting rock. Renji swung his sword round and smacked the guy in the face with the blunt end. He went down as hard as his sword, and suddenly it was all over.
A shocked silence permeated the arena, and then all hell let loose. Renji found himself surrounded by black uniforms. Someone slapped a wad of cloth over his shoulder and another offered him a cup of water which he took gratefully, swigging back the tepid liquid like it was the finest sake. Hands urged him towards the shade and he staggered into it, legs like jelly, and sank down next to a water barrel, placing his sword carefully beside him and patting it once before pressing the cloth to his wound. He'd won. Somehow, he'd won. With a magic sword!
"Nice fight, kid." The huge shinigami loomed over him, his grin even more feral than it had been before. "How'ja feel about joining the 11th?"
Renji frowned up at him, brain too boggled to really grasp the meaning of the words. He needn't have worried. Another voice cut over the top. "Take a hike, Zaraki. Yer captain's not hiring, so you're not in the market."
Zaraki's lip curled into a snarl but he dipped a small bow and backed away, revealing a man in a white haori with long straight blond hair. "Me on the other hand," the newcomer said, "I'm always on the look out for fresh meat and this one'd make a classy addition to ma stables." He leaned down over Renji, hand resting on the top of the water barrel, and grinned. It was broad and toothy and made Renji shudder. "Since you lost me a packet on the last bout, I reckon you owe me, yeah?"
"Try not to be a moronic as you look, Hirako, it's perfectly obvious the 12th should take him."
The blonde – Hirako – staggered a couple of steps sidewards and glowered at the person who'd elbowed him out of the way. For a moment Renji thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, creating some kind of mirage from the heat, or maybe he'd got knocked on the head during the fight. But no, that was face paint, slapped on like some kind of demented kabuki player. It was black and white like a skull and, along with the make-up, the guy was wearing some kind of head-dress. Renji took one look and blurted, "What the fuck are you?"
Hirako snorted a laugh and skull-face glared at him before swinging his gaze back to Renji with a sneer. "Silence. Research subjects should be seen and not heard. Now tell me, do you have any diseases or infirmities which may lead to skewed experimental results or ill-timed expiration during say, dissection?"
Renji recoiled, from the question and from the face that was suddenly shoved into his own. "What the fuck? I ain't answering your dumb-ass questions, weirdo! Piss off and leave me alone."
Instead of insulted, skull-face just peered more closely. But unlike Hirako's expression, which had contained a greedy kind of heat that Renji was completely familiar with, the only thing this guy's face showed was a vague kind of curiosity, as though Renji was a pet who'd performed an interesting trick. Or... no, it was more like a chicken looking at a squirming worm and wondering if it was tasty. And any moment now, he was going to snap Renji up and swallow him whole.
If he hadn't been trapped against the barrel, Renji would have bolted. Instead he grabbed his sword and thrust it between him and skull-face. It had returned to its normal shape, but that didn't matter. It still had a pointy end, and he could still point it at the mad scientist, even if the tip did waver as his hands shook with badly controlled terror. "You're him," he said, heart pounding and dry-mouthed. "The one who comes and takes 'em away."
It was another rumour, but unlike the one about the killing fields, Renji had suspected this one was true. He'd known a few of the kids who'd gone missing over the years and shit like, 'oh, he joined up,' and 'she found her dad and moved to east 15,' had never convinced him. The other stuff, the whispers in the night about bogeymen who stole kids away and turned them into monsters, or worse, hollows, had always felt truer to Renji.
And here was the proof, in front of him, grinning ear to ear and displaying a mouthful of teeth like tombstones.
"Looks like yer reputation preceded you, Kurotsuchi," Hirako quipped and Renji shot a poisonous look at him, all his worst suspicions confirmed. If this guy knew what the scientist did then they were all in on it. Bogeymen or not, shinigami weren't to be trusted.
"But of course. An intellect such as mine couldn't possibly go unsung even amongst the unwashed masses. Now come along, whatever you are, I don't have all day to waste on your shilly-shallying." Ignoring the sword, Kurotsuchi grabbed Renji's arm and dragged him to his feet. Renji yanked back, but he might as well have been pulling on a stone wall for all the difference it made. The scientist just kept walking and, since Renji was attached to him, Renji went too.
Until Hirako grabbed his other arm and said, "Yeah, I don't think so. I don't remember seeing your division number tattooed on his ass."
"That's because it's not on his ass, you imbecile, it's on his shikai," Kurotsuchi snapped back, tugging hard enough that Renji felt the tendons creak in his elbow. He wasn't thinking about his other arm, which was pure pain from neck to wrist where Hirako held it. When Hirako opened his mouth to speak again, the scientist narrowed his eyes and added, "The rules explicitly state that those with shikai are excluded from the pits, which makes him mine, so I'll thank you to keep your thieving hands to yourself."
"Who said I wanted him for the pits?" Hirako argued, following along as Kurotsuchi started walking again. "Maybe I was thinking of offering him a seat. Yeah, to hell with it, why not. Let's make it a challenge."
Kurotsuchi stopped in his tracks and turned slowly, free hand drifting towards the sword through his sash and head cocking at an angle as he stared at Hirako. "Yes," he said after a long, weighty moment, and there was something akin to a purr in his voice, "Why not. I have the perfect thing for the likes of you."
Renji hardly noticed the exchange, he was too busy being grateful that they'd stopped trying to pull him in half. They might not be bigger than him but they were hellishly strong, and when they both let go to focus on each other, he scuttled backwards, his only thought that this would be the perfect chance to escape.
Since most of the rest of the shinigami were busy backing away as well, his plan might have worked, if he hadn't reversed smack bang into another solid, unmoving body.
He spun round with a yelp and waved his sword at the guy he'd run into – yet another one in a white haori. Were these the ones he'd spotted in the tent, he wondered? Were they in charge somehow?
This one was more normal looking than the other two, bordering on pretty for a man, with dark hair down to his shoulders held back with some kind of fancy white hair-clip. There was a sense of stillness, of controlled power, about him that made Renji feel like he'd suddenly touched bedrock in the midst of a raging torrent.
Cool grey eyes flicked over him from head to toe, assessing and dismissing every part of him as inferior it felt like, and then focused on the sword. "Do you have the first idea what you're doing with that?" the guy asked with a voice that would have made the highest class first district merchant sound common.
Renji boggled at him, gaze flying from man to sword and back again. "Erm, no?" he said, but kept the sword up anyway.
"I thought as much. And yet you managed to put on an admirable display even so."
Something that could have been pride, or maybe hysteria, swelled in Renji's chest. "Ya think?" he replied, grinning cockily.
"Right up to the point when you turned your back on your enemy. A distinctly amateur mistake, I think you'd agree." The guy was turning away, haori flaring. It had a six written on the back and Renji suddenly realised that the scientist guy's had had a twelve and Hirako's a five. Were they captains? If they were then they were creatures of more legend and power than Renji could imagine. Even the idea of that was terrifying. But worse somehow was the idea of being left behind.
Renji took a step towards the retreating figure, hand outstretched. He wasn't sure why, exactly, he just hated the idea of being ignored, dismissed as nothing, by this man. It was stupid, but that was how he felt.
"I'm sorry..." he said. The man stopped and dipped his head as though waiting for more. Renji gave it to him. "...Sir." That won him a nod. Renji lowered his sword and reversed his grip on it, holding it out to the guy by the blade. "Could you, I dunno, show me how to use it properly, maybe?"
"You're asking me to train you?" the captain asked quizzically, turning back around so that he was facing Renji.
Embarrassed by an undercurrent he felt he was missing, Renji scratched his head and shrugged, still holding the sword out. "I guess, yeah. I wanna learn, 'specially how to make the magic work again."
Some emotion that might have been amusement skated across the captain's face. "You wish to learn more about shikai." Guessing that that was what the magic was called, Renji nodded and shoved the sword towards him. It had ended up lying across his palms as he held it out, like an offering. The captain stared at him for a moment and then asked, "What is the name of your zanpakutō, your sword?"
A name? Oh, he probably meant... "Zabimaru, sir."
"And your name?"
"Renji." The captain seemed to be waiting for more but this time Renji had nothing to give. He shook his head. "That's it, just Renji, sir. I ain't got a family name. Ain't got a family."
"Ah." Grey eyes dropped to the ground at Renji's feet. For a second Renji thought he'd blown it and then they rose again. "Then I shall call you Abarai."
"What?" Renji bristled at the implied insult. He wasn't some pet to be picked up and given a name all willy-nilly.
The captain reached out and took the sword, which slid easily from Renji's hands despite his inner turmoil. "As my student," he said, "you will require a suitable name. And I deem that name suitable for you. Do you wish to take issue with my choice?"
Did he? Before the captain had spoken, had accepted his sword, the answer would have been a resounding yes. Now though? There was that one guy up in 76th district who was called Smelly Whore if you believed the rumours. Measured against that, Abarai wasn't so bad. So what if it was a nonsense string of sounds with no real meaning. Renji would give it meaning. In a few years it would be a name spoken with respect.
"I guess not," he said, and then floundered to a halt in the face of the captain's heavy gaze. "Suppose I'll get used to it." He firmed his stance and looked up to meet the captain's eye, "I'll be honest, sir, I ain't had a master before so I'm not sure how this is all gonna work."
"A true stray, indeed." Warmth lit the captain's eyes for the briefest of moments, so subtle that it would have been terrifyingly easy to miss. It took Renji's breath and he almost missed the words that followed. "Then Abarai Renji, we find ourselves well-suited, since I have never before taken a student. Even so, there are forms that must be obeyed."
The captain held the sword out towards Renji, hilt first. "I am Byakuya, serving head of Clan Kuchiki and captain of the 6th division of the Gotei 13. With this zanpakutō I claim you for self, family and division, and undertake to train you to the best of my abilities. Do you accept this offer and give yourself freely into my hands?"
Renji stared at him. Not five minutes ago he had condemned all shinigami as untrustworthy and now he was seriously considering swearing an oath of fealty to one. He didn't have a clue why he was going to do it, except that it felt right in some unfathomable way. As right as it had been to call Zabimaru's name, like a piece of him that had been missing was slotting into place.
Decision made, Renji nodded and took the sword, then remembering his new position, bowed deeply to the the captain, like he'd seen people do in front of their masters. "I'd be honoured to serve you, taichō," he said and then pointed out, "however I can and by whatever name you're pleased to give me. Only erm... I think those two want me an' all." He glanced over at Hirako and Kurotsuchi, who were up in each other's faces snarling like a couple of fighting dogs. Getting your sword to work like that must be special, he guessed, though he had no idea why. It hadn't been hard. He'd just done what the voices told him to do.
Cool grey eyes drifted towards the squabbling pair and Renji was quickly realising that this effortless front concealed an intellect and passion that would leave both Hirako and Kurotsuchi in the dust. "I see," Kuchiki-taichō said and drew his sword. The sun gleamed off the pristine blade, scattering light across his haori in a pattern that seemed to Renji like snow or falling blossom. "Then we shall clarify their minds forthwith. Attend closely, Abarai Renji. This will be your first lesson."
….
So what's with the kid? Zabimaru's question dragged Renji reluctantly back from his reminiscences. The nue was sprawled across the tussocky grass of their inner world gnawing on something that could have been apple, or maybe a bit of dried up meat. If it was meat, Renji didn't want to know what it had come off. The snake-tail, curled on the baboon's flank, flickered its tongue but didn't deign to speak.
It didn't have to. They were both part of his soul; they both knew Renji's deepest hopes and darkest fears. iI know it's dumb, /i he said in lieu of answering the question. Now we've got bankai, it's only a matter of time before I get a captaincy and I can't leave taichō without anyone to watch his back.
The baboon's eyebrows flicked. So what you getting all maudlin for?
Because he didn't want to leave taichō. There was a huge part of Renji that felt like he would always belong to him. That he owed Kuchiki-taichō too much to ever be able to walk away.
Ssstupid, the snake tail hissed, head swaying up from its furry resting place. Choicesss made cannot be unmade. Position makes no difference.
But it would. No matter how Renji looked at it, when he was a captain things would change between them. In some ways it might be for the better. Okay, Renji would still be a gaki from outside the wall but he wouldn't be the only captain who hailed from Rukongai. There were at least two others, and more besides who's parents had crossed the divide into Seireitei, and they were accepted. Renji had seen Kuchiki-taichō stop and exchange words with Aikawa-taichō just last week, so it wasn't like there wasn't a precedent. They'd never be equals but they might be able to become friends.
And Renji wanted that. There were times when he got so tired of the power games between them and just wanted to be with Byakuya, his lover, not his taichō or the Kuchiki clan head, and surely a promotion would make things a bit more even.
But they wouldn't be together.
Renji might be from Rukongai but he knew the Gotei 13. He knew the tensions inherent in a system where every squad was their own little island and every shinigami looked out for himself first. It would be next to impossible to maintain a relationship across such a divide for any length of time. As far as he knew there wasn't anyone in the Gotei who'd managed it.
That was thing, it was too damned difficult to watch someone else's back when that someone else was halfway across Seireitei in the middle of another division, and it only took one idiot to bring the whole thing down round everyone's ears.
Renji tried imagining himself as captain of the 9th with a squad of his own, responsibilities in the Living World, and his own lieutenant to train up and trust. And then there was the ever present threat of attack. He knew how that worked. He'd seen the drain it had on Kuchiki-taichō being vulnerable every hour of every day, and on some level it terrified him. Much as he craved the independence of a promotion, he couldn't see himself playing politics like Kuchiki-taichō did, manoeuvring competing factions as effortlessly as he sent Senbonzakura's blades sweeping across the sky. By comparison Renji felt like a lumbering fool, a baboon like his zanpakutō. Even his bankai was a slow ponderous thing-
A hard hand clipped him round the ear. He yelped and glared at Zabimaru, who was standing in front of him, one knuckled paw raised, snake-tail just visible over his shoulder and zigzagging like it was trying to take flight. What the hell was that for? Renji demanded.
Idiot. You're lucky hebi couldn't reach you or it'd have hurt worse. We're nue, not a baboon, remember? A ferocious hiss suggested Renji better had remember unless he'd like a bite somewhere unpleasant. And we only achieved bankai six months ago. It's gonna take work before it's as good as it could be.
Which was true. Renji sighed and hung his head. You're right. And even if taichō is thinking of taking Kurosaki as his lieutenant, it'll be years before he's ready.
See, now you're thinking straight. Zabi sat back on his haunches and snake-tail took the opportunity to dart forward and hiss, Then sssteal the boy, steal the squad. Ssslide us between his ribs, a silent strike when he'ss not expecting, dead before-
"No!"
"Renji?" Renji's eyes flew open to find Kuchiki-taichō staring at him from the far side of the bed, the slightest of frowns marring his brow. "Is everything all right?"
Shit, had he said that aloud? Damn that stupid snake-tail. "Fine, sir, sorry. Just Zabimaru's stupid sense of humour."
"Ah." Apparently mollified, taichō turned back to the bed and began to settle for the night. Renji stared at him helplessly for a moment, hardly able to believe what that darkest part of his soul had suggested, before giving up trying to make sense of it and joining him.
When they'd got comfortable in their usual position, Renji's arm round the captain, his head resting on Renji's chest, the captain murmured, "I do not wish to replace you, Renji, but I would see a gentler hand on the rein of some of these squads. You have too much potential in that regard to waste."
Considering everything he had done today, everything he had failed to do, the words were a lifeline for Renji's soul, for his sense of self worth. For a second Renji could do nothing but try and find the gumption to breathe. Then, just as he was about to say something nice in reply, a hoarse voice snarled from the bottom of the bed, "Oh you've gotta be kidding me! Ya can't leave me like-"
The words shut-off with shattering alacrity. Renji, forefinger outstretched and still tingling from the after-effects of the kidō, shot a look at Kuchiki-taichō, who, going by his pose, had apparently released a similar spell at the exact same moment.
"Do you think...?" Renji began, wondering what the cumulative effects of too many 'time outs' might be. Then he sensed the kid's reiatsu firm and steady, dropping back into true sleep. It obviously hadn't killed him straight off, so he'd probably be okay.
"He will keep until morning," the captain said, settling down again. Renji took the opportunity to sneak a sniff at his captain's hair, still slightly damp from the bath, and closed his eyes in appreciation of the only scent that had ever meant home and safety to him. "You have first watch, Renji. Wake me in four hours."
"Hai, taichō," Renji said quietly before whispering into the silent privacy of his own mind, 'You're safe with me, Byakuya, I swear it. I will always have your back.'