Many thanks to my beta readers: Wordmage Kazzidae, EowynsPen, & Masked Soldier.
CHAPTER II
The Nobleman and the Wench
One night, Byakuya returned from his mission of conducting a soul to Soul Society. Normally, the role of psychopomps was assigned to officers below the tenth seat, but his grandfather, Captain Kuchiki Ginrei, always stressed the importance of quality. He often quoted a Meiji poem: "Even a diamond, when left unpolished, fails to shine. People, too, unless they learn, are incapable of demonstrating true virtue."
Surely, discipline and adeptness were crucial components for such a demand, but experience was another requirement. Experiencing a lower rank's task would make him a better figure, his grandfather told him. Byakuya had never known what it felt like to be an officer with unnumbered seat, for he acquired the seventh seat straight after his academy graduation. Eager to find any possible way to gain Ginrei's favor to win Hisana's hand, Byakuya obeyed his grandfather's advice without question.
His grandfather was right: being a first-time psychopomp certainly filled his life with new things to think about. The reluctance of the departed soul to part with her loved ones was one thing. Another was how he—an aristocrat and elite shinigami—had to compete for a soul with common Hollows. Not that the Hollows' resistance was something he found difficult to handle, but it hurt his dignity to compete in the same league as them. The Hollows might behave like some wild animals contending against one another while devouring a single prey, but he himself would perform anything—including escorting the soul to the place it should belong—as smoothly and as elegantly as someone worthy of a Kuchiki name should. After all, the rank-and-file Hollows were little better than mindless beasts, beneath him in every way: a properly powerful Hollow might have given him trouble, but at least it would have been a challenge worthy of his prowess.
Thus, after handing the soul to the designated officer, Byakuya headed back to the Kuchiki mansion. However, lost in his thoughts, he paid no attention to where his feet took him. When his senses came back to him, he found himself at the edge of a meadow full of bellflowers.
It was past midnight. Crickets chirped euphonically in contrast to the quiet twinkling stars that embellished the sky's celestial dome. Moonlight shone upon the field, allowing the bellflowers to radiate the full glory of their brilliant blue countenance. This, however, was not the most breathtaking sight of all. As the nocturnal breeze swept over the grasses and his hair alike, he blinked. He thought he saw the thing he desired to see most, but his wind-blown hair blocked his view. Removing the strands of hair from his face, he began to squint.
Hisana was kneeling. Her hands were picking certain weeds carefully. Her concentration kept her focused on this activity. Next to her was a basket filled with the same weeds. She was never an expert at reiatsu detection, and therefore did not notice his arrival until he addressed her, "Hisana-san."
Hisana looked up. Why did enchanting melodies always find their way into her ears whenever he was around? She could not help but held her breath: something inside her melting as she saw his stature scintillating in the moonlit night.
Since Hisana was speechless, Byakuya started the conversation, "Why do you have to pick those plants at this hour?"
"They are needed for dyeing ingredients," she answered him after a gulp, "I dye kimono fabrics for a living and this hour of night is the only time available for me to get these plants."
It seemed to Byakuya as though the kimono-maker treated Hisana like a drudge with no soul or needs of her own, expecting her to dye kimono as well as do domestic chores all day and, in addition to that, sending her out on weekly missions to pick plants at the hours when any sane employer would allow their attendant some rest. It would have pained Byakuya to see anyone treated like that, but seeing it done to his love interest specifically made this decidedly personal.
'In addition to sending her off to be a geisha, that abominable kimono maker enslaves Hisana-san to this extent,' inferred the young Kuchiki. 'Does she think Hisana-san's hands are like the hands of a clock that are supposed to move ceaselessly?'
"Let me help you!" and he knelt before any utterance of protest could escape from her mouth.
Hisana intended to reply, "You shouldn't, Kuchiki-sama. You've helped me so much before; I couldn't possibly ask any more of you."
Nonetheless, the moment their eyes met, the power of speech abandoned her. Mind too preoccupied by the luster of his single glance, she could not even give her answer as he assured her that it was his choice rather than her request that made him do so. She even sensed her cheeks growing hotter and hastily turned her face away from the direction of the moonlight, concealing her blush.
When they had gathered enough, Byakuya picked one of the bellflowers in that meadow and presented it to Hisana. The moment he did this, he was surprised by his own action. Yet, people said love made one do foolish things and even theKuchiki Byakuya was no exception.
Hisana, too, was astonished by Byakuya's deed. After the initial shock, however, she accepted the flower with a smile and a word of gratitude.
The young Kuchiki had never taken a particular fancy in bellflowers before, but starting from that night on, Platycodon grandiflorus became his favorite flower.
Later, Byakuya did not offer Hisana any escort home. 'She is accustomed to coming here at night; she'll think I'm questioning her ability to get back safely,' he thought. Therefore, he simply tailed her home in secret. Little did he know that she was aware of this fact, this time, and he certainly did not expect her to whisper "Thank you, Kuchiki-sama" in the wind before entering the kimono maker's house.
Thirty meters away from the kimono shop, standing alone in silence, Kuchiki Byakuya displayed a smile that no eyes beheld.
###
"You came back late last night. Was the work of a soul conductor too troublesome for a young shinigami such as yourself?" Captain Kuchiki Ginrei questioned his grandson during their morning practice.
"It was nothing of the sort, grandfather. Nothing impeded me from accomplishing the task that I was assigned to."
"That's fine then."
The wizened captain said that on the surface, but suspicion grew within his heart. Summoning a subordinate or two to tail his grandson was something he could do without breaking a sweat. So he did.
Byakuya's parents had already passed away and, siblingless as he was, he became the sole Kuchiki heir. That his old grandfather was more concerned than necessary about him was not something new to him. That the very same grandfather would go through such length to intrude upon his privacy, however, was truly unexpected. Unknown to Byakuya, one of Ginrei's spies reported Byakuya's expression while spying Hisana from afar. Another spy reported how Byakuya protected Hisana in secret from the "wolves" who were enticed by her beauty.
What disturbed Ginrei most, however, was the fact that Byakuya took a midnight stroll every Tuesday, in accordance with Hisana's plant-picking schedule.
Those who had been admitted as members of the Kuchikis were always the best of the best. His mother was the niece of the previous king of Soul Society—the purity of her blue blood was unquestionable. His wife had been a fine woman who came from one of the most ancient aristocratic families in Seireitei. His son-in-law Kuchiki Kōga was also of good standing—not through noble lineage, but through distinguished achievements in his career … but that was before Kōga had taken the wrong path.
However, after what the ex-third seat of the sixth division had done and the premature death of Ginrei's only daughter, what Byakuya had left of his parents was nothing more than stories. Byakuya had been in Ginrei's care since infanthood. The hardworking, obedient, skillful Byakuya ought to obtain the best in victuals, attire, dwelling, and of course, spousal arrangements.
'Just like water which follows the shape of its container, people are affected by their surroundings. A Kuchiki heir deserves better than a commoner. From what I gather, this woman is nothing but a lowly textile laborer and a prostitute. What will become of my one and only grandson if I allow someone like that to become my granddaughter-in-law?'
The old man opened an elaborate wooden chest and took a wagasa paper umbrella from it. Tracing his finger to the waxed washi paper, he heaved a sigh. He too, had once experienced the spring of youth.
###
The daughter of a meager umbrella maker named Tomomi gave young Ginrei the wagasa umbrella once upon a rainy day. He was on his way back to Seireitei from a Menos slaying mission and he couldn't care less about the rain, but she did. Not a word was spoken, but the next thing he knew, a canopy of white wagasa sheltered him from the falling rain.
He turned to the side. The feral gleam in his eyes had not subsided yet; his comrades-in-arms had fallen in the battlefield and he fought hard to avenge their deaths. To survive.
The people on the street did not talk to him, some even scurried away as he—a tired, bruised and blood-spattered beast—passed. Yet this girl, this ordinary girl from the nineteenth district of Rukongai, held out an umbrella for him without a trace of fear. Such resoluteness was what drew him back to the real world he was in. All thoughts of the Menos gone, he started to hear the pitter-patter sound of the droplets descending onto the ground, smell the damp air, see the dark sky above, touch the bamboo shaft of the wagasa umbrella and feel the kindness that the umbrella owner was conveying.
He promised to return the umbrella to her, but she smiled and told him to keep it in his possession instead. He visited her father's store the next day, only to find out that she was going to be married within ten weeks. Her husband-to-be was a mediocre blacksmith—someone who, in Ginrei's opinion, did not deserve her.
The young Kuchiki fully realized that it was not his place to stop the marriage. He was not discouraged from visiting her either, only he did so in secret. He was the holder of the eighth seat of the sixth division, and a soldier was no stranger to spying. Whenever his schedule permitted, he would practice the art of spying on the only woman that managed to snare his attention.
One evening, Tomomi returned home from buying some tofu. Her fiancé, who walked next to her, suggested a shortcut through the forest. The thickness of the foliages allowed Ginrei to follow them even more surreptitiously than usual.
Suddenly, from the opposite direction, came a hind. She galloped past them in a hurry and it was no mystery as to why such animal, which usually preferred to keep herself out of sight of the humans, now dared to make an appearance: a tiger was on her heel. Alas, the predator realized how easier it was for him to get a meal out of two humans than out of the speeding hind.
Telling his fiancée to run away, the blacksmith drew a kitchen knife from a bundle in his hand. This was supposed to be a delivery item, but the intended receiver was not home, so he just had to redeliver it another day.
Overcame by shock and fear, Tomomi did not move from her spot. The tiger, on the other hand, leapt onto her, pinning her to the ground while his claws tore a portion of her kimono sleeve. She tried to cover the tiger's mouth with her bamboo basin. The tofu and water inside the basin were poured out, and neglected, for why would a tiger touch bean curd when fresh meat was available?
Tomomi's fiancé attacked the tiger's back with his knife. But as soon as the beast's claw scratched his forearm, the man fled for his own dear life. Only then, Ginrei came out from his lurk and jugulated the white tiger within minutes.
"Why would you marry someone like that?" The question just had left Ginrei's mouth uncontrolled before she had the chance to thank him. He knew he was lower than the lowlife. He could have helped them sooner, but a part of him had been hoping that the blacksmith would die so he could marry Tomomi in the blacksmith's stead.
"It's for my family's sake," weakly she answered.
This time, Ginrei even lost control of his tone and roared, "Your family? What about your happiness?" He dared not, however, mention the next words, 'And mine?'
"Ginrei-sama, my happiness doesn't mean much compared to others', though…" she hesitated, but then continued, "… of course, in my case, it isn't as significant as yours. You are a Kuchiki, and a Kuchiki must uphold honor, not only for the family alone, but also for everybody else in Soul Society because people look up to the noble house of Kuchiki."
###
Ginrei then gave up his pursue because of her words. He never spied on her afterwards, but once met her on his patrol, while she was walking with her two children years later. And now, the aged sixth division captain expected his grandson to do the same.
'The Kuchikis—the role models of exemplary conducts—must not slip, for if they do, the common people will lose hope and fall.' Bearing all these in mind, the incumbent Kuchiki clan leader summoned an underling.
As Ginrei waited for the underling to arrive, once again the memory of Byakuya's younger self flashed through the sixth division captain's mind. In this very part of the garden, where the old man currently stood, his little grandson was playing with the son of a houseguest. While running around, both children fell and bled. The guest's son cried aloud and his nanny hurried off to soothe him. Byakuya, on the contrary, held back his tears so as not to embarrass his grandfather in front of any guest of the Kuchikis.
In no way would he allow the grandson who was his pride and joy to wed a mere proletariat. In a cold voice, the wizened shinigami decreed, "Dispose of her!"
The assassin bowed at the sound of this order and vanished.
###
That night, the second month after many a moon had gone and come since the secret meeting between Byakuya and Hisana became an unspoken routine, the raven-haired maid set off for the bellflower meadow.
While gathering the necessary herbs for dyeing ingredients, she heard a rustle of the leaves. "Byakuya-sama?" she turned, half-expecting the gorgeous figure to appear, half-rebuking herself in hoping for such improper occurrence.
There was nothing but the somber-colored grasses beneath the cloudy firmament. Disappointed and relieved at same time, the maid resumed her work.
Without warning, a sharp pain invaded. She looked down and saw blood gushing from her stomach. She did not have the chance to turn or identify her attacker. All of her strength abandoned her.
The silent minutes passed by. She was certain death would come to get her.
People said delusional thoughts emerged when one was dying. That had to be it. Otherwise, why would Byakuya appear before her and carry her in his embrace?
###
By the time Hisana reopened her eyes, the first thing she saw was an unfamiliar elaborate ceiling. Sitting up to get a better look at her surroundings, she felt an enormous pain in her stomach. She tried to take a deep breath in hope to ease the pain, only to be surprised at how toilsome it was for her just to breathe.
It took a few minutes for Hisana to adjust to her new breathing difficulty. Afterwards, she learned her whereabouts. So vast was the room she was in that the distance that covered the lone maid and the brilliantly painted fusuma door was at least twelve tatami long, and she was not even located on the edge. Every single object within this room—from the quality of the futon upon which she lay to the material of the decorations—seemed extravagant. At one corner of the room, on the tonokoma alcove, for instance, there was a faience which held, besides a few flowers, two long, gracefully bent twigs of willow. Behind that, hung a kakejiku calligraphy scroll containing a haiku about the spirit of bushido.
What convinced an inexpert individual like her of this room's value, however, was none other than the ramma or ventilating transom friezes, on which carvings of sakura petals vied with each other to bestow their splendor upon the viewer, each and every petal picked out in perfect detail, no matter how small. Murakami-sensei, one of the kimono-maker's clients who happened to be an architectural specialist, once blabbered about the painstaking detail of his cherry blossom patterned panels, and this man typically charged millions for each of his works.
Before Hisana had finished inspecting the room, she heard a familiar voice: Byakuya was shouting furiously from a distance, somewhere outside. Hence, compelling herself to rise and leaning against the shōji door, she crept closer to hear his voice better.
"What do you mean you have nothing to do with this?! The cut on Hisana-san's back was not an ordinary one; it had the curved shape of the Kuchikis' heirloom, Hebi no Ō. Nobody could get hold of the King of Serpents sword without permission from the family head. Furthermore, your chosen assassin had dipped the blade into Kanman ‒ one of the Shihouins' most potent poisons. Just as its name indicates, 'Sluggish,' any victim of Kanman, even if he or she survived from the initial wound, could only live for a few more years." Byakuya's voice wavered at this point. But then he roared, "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?"
"Is this the tone you are supposed to use while address your grandfather?" a dry reply resounded.
"What kind of grandfather kills his grandson's acquaintance mercilessly and without good reason? Has Hisana-san ever wronged the Kuchikis?"
"Her existence is a threat; a plebeian does not deserve a patrician, especially a Kuchiki heir."
"Then she will be fine if I'm nota Kuchiki heir?" Byakuya was no longer yelling instead, there was coldness in his voice—ostensibly a coal from one angle, but a glowing ember from another. The sharp tone came followed by a none-too-soft thud of some fabric being slammed down onto the ground.
"Take back that kenseikan this instant, boy!"
"From this day onwards, I'm no longer a Kuchiki; there's no need for me to follow your orders!"
"Cool your head, brat!" Kuchiki Ginrei's voice was beyond irate: it was bad enough that Byakuya made Hisana recuperate inside the Kuchiki mansion, but now his usually obedient grandson even defied him for some harlot's sake. 'How dare him!'
The sound of swords clashing immediately followed, and so were the sounds of various crashing objects. Two gargantuan reiatsu opposed each other. So mighty was the vibration that it shook the floor upon which Hisana stood, sending expensive decorations toppling to the floor all around and sending the household staff into a frenzy of panic.
Hisana clenched her kimono. 'Byakuya-sama deserves someone better.'
'Someone from a well-off background.' In Hisana's mind, she pictured a girl with layers of silk kimono sitting behind a screen, a cypress hiōgi folding fan in hand, while her long hair was being tended by two handmaids.
'Someone whose ability is above standard.' Hisana looked at her callused hands. What could an ordinary person like her do? Dyeing kimono. Big deal. What a Kuchiki bride needs are chanoyu tea ceremony, ikebana flower arranging and classical dancing among other things. Hisana closed her eyes.
'Someone whose life is long enough to be devoted to him.' With this new sickness, she did not know how many more days, if not hours, she could survive.
"Lock him in the dungeon!" the girl heard the old man's voice again and ceased daydreaming. The younger Kuchiki must have lost to his senior.
Hisana got up. The wound on her back was still aching, but as long as this was about Byakuya, she was willing to risk her life. Gathering all the remaining strength within her, she slid the shōji door open and approached the source of the noise, passing a meticulously tended kare-sansui stone garden as she dragged her limbs along the engawa verandah.
One meter, two meters, three … every step the raven-haired girl took required her lungs to work double the usual load. She could almost feel the poison doing its lethal work, closing off her throat and inching her closer to death with every step she took. Hisana's chest burned with the effort of heaving like a bellows, trying desperately to siphon whatever life-giving air it could, her life-casted will compelling her to defy death until the last. The rich spirit particles which composed Seireitei did nothing to heal her wounds either—such was the sway Kanman held.
The ailing maid paused. On her left was a vast bed of white pebbles arranged so punctiliously that they resembled the ripples in a pond. To Kuchiki Ginrei, her existence must be just like those pebbles—one worthless chunk among many others. In no way at all would a common pebble look decent next to a recherché jewel.
With a repressed sigh, Hisana retraced her steps. She had realized the status issue since the first time Byakuya emerged in her life; what was the point of moping now?
Around the corner, the raven-haired girl noticed a kifu book lying open with crumpled sheets, like it had been treaded upon. The wooden goban floor board slanted, missing one of its legs; the goke stone bowls had been upturned; while the black and white igo stones scattered on the floor near the feet of none other than the lord of the mansion. Ginrei must have been replaying a game of go from the kifu before Byakuya's interruption.
As soon as the Rukongai girl's figure was within his sight, the nobleman's cooled down fury set ablaze once again. Not failing to catch the flicker in the old man's eyes, the maid prostrated herself on the ground. She placed both hands in front of her head, fingers facing inwardly, keeping her gaze on the floor and doing all she could to resemble of what was called "graceful" according to etiquette. She had made some kimono deliveries to the houses of the nobles in the past; she knew the very basic expected manner. Not until she had heard Kuchiki Ginrei's contemptuous remark of "you may speak" did she dare to raise her head.
"Kuchiki-sama, please forgive his temporary anger earlier. I shall do anything within my capacity to stay away from your honored grandson."
"Even if I ask you to disembowel yourself here and now?" the senior shinigami peered contemptuously at her.
Hisana couldn't help gulping at the very thought. Even so, more people needed Byakuya than her, and she wouldn't be able to live much longer anyway … this old man's request would only quickened her imminent death. Therefore, she resolutely answered, "I shall do according to your wish, so long as Byakuya-sama is alive and well."
"Go! The Kuchiki estate mustn't be tainted by the filthy blood of a commoner!" The old man's nostrils flared up and he once again averted his gaze from hers. His ears, nevertheless, did not fail to catch the unwavering tone of her answer.
Hisana bowed once again before leaving. She did not return to the kimono maker's house, but instead set forth on a journey to find a new life. Away from Byakuya. Away from anyone she knew … except perhaps Rukia.
Hisana decided that this was high time to search for her long-lost sister.
My apologies to Ginrei's fans—someone has to be the bad guy.
