Hi...No, wait, don't kill me, yet...(urm..)...explanation at the end of chapter, read first, please!

Disclaimer: No, don't own Bleach...sadly enough...

...

(Byakuya's POV)

Being distracted in the middle of a meeting wasn't something Byakuya usually accepted from anyone. Of course, he had years of practice at keeping a straight face no matter what his mental condition was so it didn't show.

And it wasn't like there were people around who knew him well enough to know that, right then, he didn't give a damn about the wooden handles of brushes imported from some foreign place.

Yeah, his favourite Calligraphy Association's meeting wasn't nearly as important as certain other things on his mind. Like what happened yesterday and today...

He knew he had done something surprisingly sneaky for his usually stoic character when he had responded in that manner to Renji's innocent, everyday expletive. That in itself was not what bothered Byakuya. What bothered him was the look he had seen in Renji's eyes: a mixture of shock, fear, anger and guilt. He understood the anger and the shock...

"But why would you be afraid or guilty, Abarai Fuku-taichou...Should I begin to assume?"

Of course, he hadn't dwelt on it that much immediately. He had gone about the day's duties and had returned to his Mansion at the usual time. He had had his dinner and had spent some time going through the papers for today's Meeting.

Here, Byakuya almost frowned as he remembered what had followed next. He had been about to turn in, dressed in his night-clothes, hair free of the Kenseiken, when he remembered about a new ink that had been delivered a week ago. He had wanted to try it out. The purpose was to discuss this in the Calligraphy Association meeting.

*flashback*

Byakuya was pleasantly surprised at the extra smoothness of the ink. It was a deep, rich royal blue and it flowed flawlessly from the tip of his brush. In fact, he was so taken by it that he didn't realise that he had been sitting at his work-place for almost an hour, in a state of semi-consciousness. His mind was peaceful and almost devoid of any thought and he was just writing mechanically, his experienced fingers dictating words automatically.

Of course, Byakuya was Byakuya and not even his favourite art form could keep him in such a stupor that he wouldn't realise it when he had written a person's name.
With some shock, Byakuya paused in mid-stroke to see the graceful letters that shone on the paper:

ABARAI RENJI

He froze, eyes wide. WHAT was he thinking...no, he wasn't thinking...He looked at the innocent-looking ink bottle and realised that the ink must have some special, sinister properties.

He dipped the brush in the pot and gave a wide stroke, over the name he had written down. No, he wasn't thinking, because if he had been he would have realised that the ink was indeed something sinister. The ink glistened and started spreading around the name, as if he had painted over damp paper.

It happened so quick, Byakuya couldn't react quickly enough: the blue liquid seeped right through the paper and somehow growing in quantity, it stained through onto the rich wooden table. The sleeve-end of his loose, simple night-kimono got caught in the alarmingly increasing pool of blue ink and he swiftly drew away from the table, ripping his sleeve apart.

The torn shred fell to the floor, now completely blue.

Meanwhile, his desk was in ruins: his sudden movement had upset the papers and the other items on his desk. Half of them were already soaking in the blue ink.

Now, Kuchiki Byakuya had a place for everything. His work-clothes were neatly arranged in expensive, antique closets while his other dresses were in other casements, all separated according to occasion. All these were in an adjacent room.
But a few things he kept in his bedroom: Accessories (as much as a man might need) were placed on a low table, right next to his futon. Here he put his comb, a bowl of clean water, a silk ribbon he rarely used and of course, his dear Kenseiken.

The level of the ink had risen so much, that Byakuya was walking in a pool of blue. He tried Kidou but immediately realised that it was futile. Byakuya seldom panicked. He didn't panic now either, but he still was in a state of slow, bemusement. His eyes scanned the room, as if in slow motion, and landed on the low-table. It was all but gone, floating on the ink. Byakuya shunpo-ed to it, grabbed his comb and his Kenseiken and shunpo-ed out the room. Once outside, he quickly tried another Kidou spell, this time to bind from outside. Miraculously, that seemed to do the trick and the treacherous ink, about to spill out from the door-threshold, stopped moving.

Byakuya immediately felt the daze lift. He blinked in surprise and then examined what he had managed to salvage. The comb was unharmed; it's smooth, off-white edges shone in the glow from the Kidou placed on the room. The Kenseiken, on the other hand, were completely blue.

*flashback ends*

Byakuya almost let out a soft sigh of frustration. He had spent the whole night trying to get the Kenseiken clean, trying everything from water to tea to the strongest of Kidou-spells. He had summoned the staff who cared for him in his Mansion, and he had made them all try out various methods to clean it. It had come to a point when he had all but started yelling and crying!
Well, maybe not that...

When he had realised that he couldn't do anything about it, it was already way past office-time. Byakuya rounded up his staff, warned them from going anywhere close to the room, and his Kenseiken, which he had put in a case and stowed away. Of course, it went without mentioning that no-one would ever speak of the incident unless Byakuya said otherwise.

"...Ah, but its coarseness adds to the charm, ne Kuchiki Taichou?"

"Excessive coarseness makes him remarkably like a baboon..." Byakuya replied, a soft growl rumbling through him

"Eh? Taichou...we were talking about..."

But Byakuya mental capabilities, though prone to the occasional stumble, were fast to recover

"...like an animal with no other thought than food on the mind, and so he who wields the tough brush should also be wary of its gentle nature."

"True!"

"Kuchiki Sama truly knows his Calligraphy..."

"You are always so helpful in ordering of fine quality brushes, Taichou. You never go wrong..."

Byakuya inclined his head politely, not a twitch on his face or a dot of colour change to indicate that he had almost slipped on his calculated, cool reputation by almost giving away that he was talking, and by extension thinking, not of calligraphy brushes but of a certain red-haired Fuku-taichou.

...

Far, far away – almost in a different world:

The Man stood out in a crowd, there was no way around the fact. You'd think it was his dress or his slightly short trousers, maybe even the hat.

The average person took a while to realise that it was his face – no one can look at a face that knows, and smiles with that knowledge, a knowledge you don't and can't ever have.

Currently that face, hat and all, was turned towards a peculiar, round instrument – almost like a glass football – perched on a table littered with God only knew what else.

A shadow moved past the door and a lithe body followed, quiet, catlike.

"You know you'll pay one day for all the interfering, don't you Urahara?"

Urahara jumped a foot away from the table, clutching at his heart.

"Hello, Yoruichi-San! You really shouldn't sneak up on people...bad for health..."

"Talking about being sneaky, what do you intend to achieve by your latest prank?" Yoruichi leaned against the doorway, a smile playing around her lips

"Come now, Yoruichi-San...that was no prank! How was I to know that the Thoughtful Ink of Persia was contaminated by some random segments of Marking Spirit?"

"Marking Spirit?" Yoruichi's eyes narrowed ever so slightly

"Well...yeah..." Urahara let out a nervous chuckle and shuffled his feet, trying to look guilty and regretful. Of course, he wasn't really trying hard, now, was he? "...It might also have had a few drops of Double Duplicate in it..."

Yoruichi's eyes widened. Last year, the Double Duplicate had caused so much of ruckus in North Karakura Town (Let's just say that 128 Giraffes running around loose wasn't a very natural, manageable phenomenon) that they had stopped selling it and destroyed every last bit of it...

"Well, not every last bit, apparently..." She thought, looking at Urahara. The football started glowing behind him and following her gaze, he turned to it.

"Ah, Yoruichi-San, you might find this interesting..."

"Is that a football, Kisuke?"

"An Orb from Egypt...Have you been there...no, I know you haven't...we should go sometime...I heard they have excellent processes of preserving dead bodies, turning the soul into..."

"Dead bodies do not interest me..."

"They worship cats..."

"Hmm..." Yoruichi grinned at Urahara "Well, now that's something..." She walked towards him and peered at the Football-Orb-from-Egypt

"Kisuke, is that Byakuya?"

...

So?

I know I have been a pig, a cow, a hollow, anything you can think of that is a strong enough abuse, for not updating for so long!
(Exams, projects, internships, more exams, 2 cats and one virus-infected laptop are to share the blame...)

I also know this chapter does not have much Byakuya-Renji interaction, but it needed to be written. The next one (and I promise, I have vacation for a week, I'm already writing it) will be better!

Please review, love you!

Moonlitpride