Chapter 3
Shock runs through his mind, stirring him, crashing, foaming.
What on earth is going on?
Before he can say a word, or at least sufficiently recover, she cuts in, grinning at him, something he finds almost automatically distasteful.
"Hello! You must be Byakuya. I'm sure you've heard of me."
Without waiting for a reply, she ploughs on, tapping herself on the chest proudly. "I'm Yoruichi, Shihōin Yoruichi. They call me shunshin, the Flash Goddess." Another grin, showing white teeth like a cat's.
Byakuya is taken aback; he hasn't expected this. What was his grandfather thinking?
His new teacher studies him some more, circling his kneeling form- first to the left, and then to the right. Byakuya feels scrutinized, almost defiled by her gaze.
"He's a fine young boy, Ginrei," she remarks to his grandfather, casually, as if they were friends and he was cattle. "Aren't you, Byakuya-bō?"
Before she can say anything else, the anger surges within him, and Byakuya stands in a sudden, fierce motion, pointing at her.
"How dare you show such disrespect to my honored Grandfather!"
Everyone in the room is still, and every gaze is trained on him. Yoruichi watches him, arms crossed, a smirk on her face that he wants to march over and tear off.
The silence is pervasive; it reaches deep into the air, tainting it with the odour of tension. Byakuya looks to his grandfather for support, waits for him to agree.
"Enough!" His grandfather thunders, and disbelief runs through Byakuya's every nerve. Byakuya's eyes widen; he struggles to force his mouth closed, shame burning his cheeks like a fever. "Insolent child! You will not dishonor the Kuchiki name with your selfish words. Shihōin Yoruichi is a family friend, and a master of the Four Arts. I trust you will be in better hands with her than with anyone else."
Now it is rage that consumes Byakuya, a river of endless resentment. So this is what his grandfather has responded with; a thoughtless solution to his decades of endless pleading - a woman. And one who does not know her place, too!
He kneels again, face burning. "I thank you, Grandfather."
The tension hangs there, stiff as a wooden rod.
"Well then," says Yoruichi, as if she is completely oblivious to what had just happened. "Glad that's sorted - boring ceremony, that one."
She winks at his grandfather. Byakuya feels another boiling splash of resentment. Yoruichi turns to him, setting her hand on his shoulder- his shoulder!
"Well and fine, little one. Training begins at 6 on Monday. Meet me at my mansion."
And she's gone, leaving barely a breath of wind.
Byakuya wishes Monday would never come.
Much to his disappointment, it does, and he is forced by the light of the dawn to rise, put on a tunic and hakama, and bring along his bokken, proceeding about halfway across Seireitei to where the gates of the Shihōin mansion stand, regal and proud in the morning sun.
By his estimate, it will be 6 in another few minutes. He waits.
Somewhere far away, a bell chimes the start of the day.
His gaze turns expectantly to the gates, but there is no sign of Yoruichi.
Instead, there is a movement in the nearby bushes, and Byakuya tenses, lifting his bokken, but it is just a black cat that wanders out of the bush. Byakuya observes the animal. It drifts to his feet, rubbing itself against his trousers, and he sighs, bending down to pat its back. It stretches lazily and purrs.
The cat stays with him for a little while more before wandering off again. Byakuya straightens, and frowns.
She's late.
As if to spite him, Yoruichi comes bounding through the gates, spots him, and waves. "Hello there, little Byakuya!"
She turns to walk back into the mansion without so much as beckoning him to follow, and Byakuya is forced to hurry after her before the gates swing closed.
"I'm not little," he grumbles, catching up to her, "and you're late."
"Oh, I am?" she asks, waving her hand carelessly, but it is a rhetorical question. "Must've forgotten the time."
They walk further into the compound, with no further discussion. Byakuya's gaze wanders to a set of well-trimmed lawns, the gilded roofs of buildings that catch the sun, and the sheer extravagance of the place, one that rivals the Kuchiki compound's.
He's never been in the compounds of one of the other Houses before, but his grandfather certainly wasn't lying about Yoruichi being a member of the Four Noble Houses - he can see their clan sign imprinted on every building. Four intricate maple leaves surrounding a crescent moon, enclosed by a hexagon meant to represent a courtyard, and Byakuya notes that that is the meaning of their clan name, Shihōin - the courtyard of the four maple leaves.
The place is rather lively - some servants are bustling about, and some others are doing laundry - he can hear the chatters of some maids in another yard behind a nearby building, but Yoruichi doesn't stop there.
Soon, the voices fade, to be replaced by the chirps of crickets, as trees close over the way they have come. The forest is twisting, confusing, alive, yet beautiful; several times Byakuya spots a brightly-colored bird perched atop a branch.
He is so absorbed by all the sights the forest has to offer that when Yoruichi stops dead in her tracks, he bumps, with considerable force, into her.
Quite to his surprise, she does not fall like most court ladies; instead, he feels as though he has banged into a stone pillar, and unprepared for this incongruity of assumption and reality, he overbalances, and lands in a heap of trousers and tunic and mossy ground.
Rubbing his forehead, he sits up, brushes himself off, and looking up at that deceptively diminuitive figure, grumbles, "Why have we stopped?"
She replies simply, without turning to look at him, "It is because we have no more need to go on." Byakuya almost marvels at the elegant, philosophical answer before he reminds himself that it comes from a brutish woman who has no regard for etiquette whatsoever.
They are at the foot of the thick trunk of what Byakuya supposes must be the largest tree in the entire forest. He can sense its life energy humming, pulsing from within its gnarled depths, and just stares in awe.
"Climb it," instructs Yoruichi.
"What?" asks Byakuya, perhaps louder than he should have, but this is ridiculous. He is supposed to learn the ways of a Shinigami, not how to climb a tree!
"You heard me," says Yoruichi, nonchalantly. "Climb the tree. It's your first assignment."
"I refuse," says Byakuya blatantly, crossing his arms. He has put up with this woman's impudent attitude for too long. He is grown, a fine young man ready for the mantle of responsibility. And here she treats him like a child!
He waits, almost expectant, for her reaction.
Instead of blowing up in his face, she retorts, with a calm smile that sets the hate gnawing at his bones again, "So the great Kuchiki Byakuya cannot even climb a tree. That is no news, I suppose."
She couldn't have done more damage by hitting him with any other taunt.
"I can climb perfectly well," he growls.
"Prove it," she replies.
"I don't need to prove that I can climb a tree," he hisses, glaring at her like an offended cat.
"That's just another way of saying you can't," she replies, curtly.
"I will not." He crosses his arms adamantly; looks away, because his eyes cannot match the intensity of her gaze.
"Do you want to become a Shinigami or not?" she asks in reply.
Byakuya loses it.
"Yeah, but you can't make me one! You were at least supposed to teach me at least how to protect myself! Climbing stupid plants isn't going to make me a Shinigami; nothing you pretend to make me do is going to change that. I wanted to fight with a sword! That's what was going to make me a Shinigami, and I'm never going to get to do that! This is going to get me nowhere!"
Suddenly, he is forced down onto the ground by a huge pressure, something intangible; yet it pummels the breath from his lungs. His face meets hard, cool dirt, and however much he tries to move, he can't bring himself to even breathe. Anger gives way to panic that builds up inside, walled up by the fact that he has lost control, lost control, doesn't have any sovereignty over what is his-
A voice speaks, powerful and thundering and slamming against his already pounding head.
"You'll do what I tell you to, Kuchiki Byakuya, because here I am your master, and you will be nothing without me." Byakuya can't even breathe, can't respond.
The voice mocks. "Look at you, poor weakling. Can't even stand the simple pressure of a bit of reiatsu. I'm here to make you a Shinigami, even without wielding a sword, and I'll do that in my own time. You will not question me. Is that understood?"
Byakuya can barely fight against the force that is pushing him down to move his head, the barest fraction of an inch. The pressure fades away, and he sits up fast, gulping air in huge, sweet gasps - life!
"Climb the tree," Yoruichi repeats, looking down at him, inflectionless tone stinging in his ears.
Byakuya is reduced to just glaring. After a while, he mutters, "Fine. I'll climb. But I'll never call you master, Shihōin demon."
As he stands, turns away to face the tree, he gets the insidious feeling that he never had much of a choice anyway.
"It's just a tree. I can climb it," he mutters, though more for his own benefit than hers. It is huge, and tilting his head back, Byakuya cannot see where its enormous canopy ends, and the rest of the forest begins.
No, it is as if the entire forest has its roots from this single tree, and the whole spread of vegetation is a giant, interconnected organism.
A shudder runs through him; the insignificance of his being compared to this ancient, powerful entity hits him then, with the intensity of a lightning bolt.
But he must conquer it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yoruichi has returned to watching him with the same, serene smile on her face that neither deters nor encourages, and the rush of anger floods through him, overpowering his fear.
Taking a cursory glance to determine his projected path up the trunk, he takes a few steps backwards, readies himself, and charges. He leaps, getting about a meter up the trunk, holds on to a thick vine with arms muscled from continued bokken practice, and for a few seconds, it is as if he will actually make it, but then, the vine snaps.
Byakuya lunges for the trunk, but gravity overpowers him, and he scrabbles against the gnarled wood helplessly before landing hard on his back, all the air knocked out of him. He lies there for a few moments, trying to regain his breath, but cannot seem to re-inflate his similarly crushed pride. He slides his eyes shut, squeezes the lids together, and concentrates on breathing, his heart pounding. When he opens them again, turning his head to the left slightly, Yoruichi sits beside him, face bent slightly over his, brows creased.
"Are you quite all right?" she asks, and in his mind the words take on a sort of ironic mockery.
"That's none of your business," he growls, sitting up so abruptly that she is forced to pull her head out of the way to avoid a collision, and Byakuya feels a sense of perverse triumph.
Getting to his feet and facing the tree, Byakuya rushes at it with a yell. This time, he is able to get a grip with his feet, but his hands slips before he can propel himself higher, and he falls.
Byakuya slams his palm into the ground. "Stupid tree," he mutters.
"Again," Yoruichi orders.
Byakuya sends a smouldering glance in her direction, then gets to his feet. He takes another moment to size up the tree, then charges at it again. When he leaps, Yoruichi can pick out so many things wrong with his stance, and she knows before he's even taken off that he will fail.
And fail he does.
Again and again he tries, to the same result, while Yoruichi watches, unmoving, the smile on her face fading to a cold mask devoid of expression.
As Byakuya pushes himself off the spot where he's fallen for the umpteenth time, and sits up to breathe, he is met with the sight a trail of red, snaking for a few metres up the tree. Scattered here and there amidst green and brown are fragments of bloody handprints. Gritting his teeth, he wipes his stinging palms on his tunic, only to discover that the fabric is similarly streaked with red.
Exhaling, he readies himself for another attempt-
"Enough."
Byakuya looks up, surprised. His eyes, clouded with exhaustion, flicker around, shadowed, apathetic, searching until they land on Yoruichi's face.
"Enough," Yoruichi repeats quietly, exhaling through her nose, and is that... is that something pained, something soft creeping into her voice?
"Don't waste your time. You'll never make it up that tree today. Go home now. I'll see you tomorrow at 6."
She is gone.
Byakuya blinks, then picks his bokken up, and contemplates the tree for a little while more. Eventually, he, too, leaves.
