Four Years Later


With little resentment in my heart, I watched my friends grow. Sure, they had been sad to lose a practicing partner, a friend who spoke the jargon and understood their ambition. They recovered quickly. Their world kept turning, the river carrying them into a realm of new opportunities, while I floated on the surface of the still lake. I served them, Aizen, Gin, and Mr. Urahara tirelessly. I had no time to rest, except for the few short hours in the day I was allotted to eat, bathe, and sleep. I called no one by their title. To me, 'Ichimaru-Fukutaichou' was simply 'Gin.' It had irritated them at first, but they seemed to get over it.

Ichimaru-Fukutaichou had stepped out from Aizen-Taichou's hold, and been able to drop the 'Fuku' from his title. He was his own geisha now, and would be responsible for the education of another. Unsurprisingly, he snatched Izuru as soon as he reached the age of fifteen and was considered eligible to begin his apprenticeship. They had always gotten along, and I had overheard Mr. Urahara promise him that 'the boy is yours as soon as he graduates.' Izuru still attended classes with Momo, but had the added advantage of practicing under the guidance of Gin.

While there was no way for me to prove it, I didn't think that Aizen took Momo under his wing out of choice. Their interaction was awkward, though his attempts at being encouraging seemed to work for her. It was probably because, at a barely-detectable level, she was behind Izuru in skill.


Even though I wasn't an active student, it was impossible for me to avoid gaining some knowledge through observation. I had even been grabbed by Gin and Aizen to act as a mock audience while Momo and Izuru performed, trying to desensitize their proteges to crowds.

Though I had managed to conceal any jealousy that bubbled inside of me, time came where I felt the pot boil over.

"C'mere," Gin motioned. "I need yer opinion." I followed him to his bedchamber, where Izuru sat in only a dressing robe, hair clipped away from his face. A thick layer of white makeup covered his entire face, hiding even his lips and eyebrows. I barely concealed a laugh.

"Izuru. You look pathetic," I teased. Gin knelt in front of him, opening his makeup box.

"Right now he looks like an unfinished doll. Let's see if we can make 'im pretty." After a moment of stillness, Gin lit the end of his charcoal stick with a nearby candle and let it burn for a moment, extinguishing the flame before it turned to ash. With the stick smoking, he pressed it to Izuru's face, and began to draw. His wrist flicked in swift strokes, and it wasn't long before I could see where he was headed. I could see the outline of wings spreading across his closed eyes, accentuating lines painted down the side of his nose. When Gin was done, the edges of Izuru's lips were painted black, while the middle was an eye-catching red. The wings on his eyelids were filled in with black and silver, contrasting with the blue of his eyes.

"How's that?" Gin asked me as he finished, holding up a mirror for Izuru to see.

"He looks like a chicken," I deadpanned. Gin laughed.

"That's the point. Well. I was goin' for swan," he said, soothing Izuru, who looked rather offended, with the stroke of a shoulder.

"I can see it," I reassured Izuru.

He was a chicken.


Maybe that had been what prompted me to get my tattoos. On the way to the market, pocket lined with my meager salary and money for fish, I had met an artist on the street, who invited me to watch him for a moment. I watched as he left ink in the skin of a paying client, whose eyes were clenched in pain. With the needle he used, it looked like it hurt like hell. But the end result.. the client grinned from ear-to-ear, running fingers delicately over the dragon on his arm.

I reached into my pocket, and dumped my salary onto the table.

"Whatever you wanna do," I told him, and he sat me down in his chair.

Urahara had scolded me that evening. Not only was I late, but I had sharp, symmetrical designs covering my eyebrows and much of my forehead.

"They're atrocious," Aizen stated.

"Kinda nifty though. Looks like it hurt like a bitch." Gin reached out to touch them. I smacked his hand away. It had, but once the adrenaline kicked in, I felt the unbearable urge to go through the process again.

"Just wear a headband in public," Mr. Urahara laughed, waving his fan at me.


When asked over dinner, Momo told me that Aizen was saving her design for her release ceremony.

"Release ceremony?" I asked, eyebrow raised. She nodded with a smile. Uh oh. Momo was about to gush. I braced myself.

"It's when a student becomes a Fukutaichou," she stated, smile becoming dreamy. "Aizen-Taichou will bind himself to me as my mentor, and he will give me my professional name."

"Professional name?" I asked, still confused. "We just call him Aizen-Taichou."

"That's because you're not a geisha or Fukutaichou," she stated. "To other geisha and his clients, he's not 'Aizen-Taichou.' He's 'Kyouka Suigetsu.' And Ichimaru-Taichou is 'Shinsou.' I can't wait for that day," she sighed, giving me her empty bowl to wash.


The bell rang, and the entire occupants of the okiya stood on the stairs. Gin opened the door and stepped just inside, closing the shouji behind him. He was in full formal kimono, the kitsune mask painted onto his grinning face. I looked at Momo and Mr. Urahara. Confusion was becoming my natural state, dammit.

"Allow me the honor of introducing my new Fukutaichou," Gin stated, kneeling. He placed his hand on the shouji.

"Raise your head, Wabisuke."

The shouji opened and Izuru stepped inside. His kimono was a vibrant cobalt blue, with images of flowers and birds in flight. It was lined in yellow, with an obi to match. He stood on the most uncomfortable-looking sandals I had ever seen, tall and slanted in the front. He held a nervous smile on his lips as he stepped into the full light. It seemed as if Gin had refined his makeup since the night I saw him freehand on Izuru's face. It was more graceful, a little less cartoonish.

I followed suit as, one by one, we greeted the upcoming Fukutaichou. Mr. Urahara and Aizen greeted him with a light bow, where Momo and I had been expected to fall to his feet. It felt wrong. I had grown up beside Izuru, played beside him, helped him dress. To me, he would always be my equal.

As Gin stood, he motioned for me to open the shouji for them. From what Momo had told me, on the night of the ceremony, the new Fukutaichou was to be introduced to as many geisha as possible. Gin exited first, while Izuru followed slowly. Not only did they look uncomfortable, those damn stilts he wore looked to be difficult to walk in. I counted the steps he could take before he fell.

One. Two. Three. Four. Fiv- oh, almost. Six. Seven. Eight. Ni- and he hit the ground.

I leaned in close to Momo. "Told you he looked like a chicken."


Only a few short months after Izuru's release ceremony, Momo was able to join the ranks of the Fukutaichou. Aizen introduced her with pride, something I hadn't really expected, but had appreciated nonetheless. Momo deserved a mentor who gave a shit about her. He had given her the name 'Tobiume,' which I thought to be considerably less depressing than 'Wabisuke.'

It wasn't a surprise that Aizen had kept her makeup a secret- it was more elaborate that even Gin's, with swirls and curves reminiscent of the wings of a resting butterfly. She dressed in purple and gold, with one of the most elaborate obi I had seen. Aizen had stitched silk to the sides, fanning out and fluttering as she walked.

"You're beautiful," Mr. Urahara praised, urging her to raise her chin. She smiled appreciatively, and redirected that smile to Aizen.

He smiled back, and I could maybe understand what made him so popular as a geisha.

As I descended the stairs, I realized that I was the only one in the okiya who would be expected to drop to my knees in front of her. While I didn't resent her success, I strongly resented the fact that, while I had been raised her equal, I was now expected to consider her my master. I should have resigned myself to that fate long ago, but there was still a part of me that resisted.


I hopped to my feet as the bell rang, throwing the scrubbing brush into the bucket and sliding the rag holding my hair back out of my eyes. Visitors weren't uncommon. Mr. Urahara had dozens of business partners in Seireitei. Clients came to talk out hiring one of the geisha for an event, particularly if it was going to be especially large or elaborate.

As I came down the stairs, Mr. Urahara stopped me.

"Clean your hands," he hissed. "Fix your hair. Present yourself, boy." God, who was out there? I moved to take a look, but he stopped me.

"Don't stare! Go! Quickly, don't keep him waiting." I wandered off to the kitchen to clean up, which I found completely unnecessary. Mr. Urahara turned to face Aizen, who sat at the table, practicing calligraphy with Momo. "What does he want?" he asked lowly.

"I'm sure it's something Renji did," he teased, tone light. If I wouldn't have been thrown out into the street, I would have drowned him in the sink I washed my hands in. "I try not to delve into his mind. It's dangerous territory."

"Who is it?" Momo asked. Aizen sighed, reaching out to help her with a brushstroke.

"You'll see soon enough."

I ran out to unlock the gate for the visitor, and slid the shouji open. Mr. Urahara had always instructed me to never look directly at guests.. but with that much commotion, I couldn't help but look up as he slid his sandals off and stepped just inside of the okiya.

My heart stopped.

That face was not easily forgettable. His hair was longer, yes, reaching the small of his back, but those aloof grey eyes had burned themselves into my memory that one night, four years ago. He dressed in a silk yukata, black with an eye-catching sakura motif, a far cry from the simple robe I had seen him in. He presented himself with grace, offering me a polite nod as I closed the shouji behind him. He didn't recognize me, did he? I hoped not. Four years was long enough to forget.

"Welcome," Mr. Urahara greeted jovially, bowing a little more deeply than I usually saw him do. "It's always a pleasure to receive a visit from such an esteemed geisha," he said, holding out his hand to direct him to the living room.

"May we speak in private?" he asked of Mr. Urahara, who nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course." As they reached the living room, Aizen looked up from his paper, expression calm and even.

"Good afternoon, Senbonzakura."

"It is always a pleasure, Kyouka Suigetsu."

Though short, the conversation was tense enough to make even me feel awkward. Aizen collected the supplies spread out on the table and rose, making eye contact with the visitor as he exited.

"Ah, Hinamori-Fukutaichou!" Mr. Urahara caught her attention as she moved to follow her mentor. "I'm sure that our guest would like to enjoy a cup of tea. Would you care to brew some for us?" he asked politely.

She hesitated. "B-but tha-" She was cut off by the sound of Aizen clearing his throat from the hall, followed by a soft 'excuse me.' She responded with a bow. "I will be prompt," she promised, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Though the shouji had been closed, a sign that the pair was not to be disturbed, I took to scrubbing the floor of the hall just outside. I could hear voices, and with the slowing of my brush, I could make out words.

"I.. Momo is... bound.." The speech was muffled. I paused in my chores, crawling to the wall beside the door. Much better.

"It is not Momo I seek," that man- Senbonzakura- replied gently. "You have another here, one whose potential is unrefined."

"You couldn't possibly mean.." I leaned in closer. Yeah. What did he mean?

"Are you questioning my perception?"

"I wouldn't dare. But Renji.. he's a servant."

"I know precisely what he is." There was a slight pause in conversation. I cursed every second of that pause. I was on hands and knees by the door, my heart beating quickly. There was no way that I'd heard them correctly.

"He's so much older. He has so much to learn. The time and financial resources required-"

"Would be covered by my estate." Mr. Urahara took his sweet time considering the implications of what was being said. It took all of my power to not simply yell out 'just fucking agree already!' Senbonzakura was my only lead in finding Rukia if she was still in Seireitei. I needed this.

"Alright. He's yours. But do not forget that he is bound to this okiya. He flies under your wing, but in my forest."

"Naturally." He paused for breath. "There is no time to lose. I would like to begin his training immediately." I lunged away from the door, quickly resuming my task. That didn't mean the shit-eating grin stayed off my face.

The shouji opened with a snap, and I paused in my work to bow. Instead of passing by without even noticing me, Senbonzakura lowered himself to my level. A delicate hand reached out to push my elbow into my body. He slid it upward, pushing the back of his knuckles into my chest. I resisted his touch, not understanding what he asked. He held pressure.

"No weight on the hands. Tuck your back in." Picture of Aizen in my head, I pulled myself into a more upright bow, back slanted instead of parallel to the floor.

"Very good," he praised. "Now stand." I looked at him with questioning eyes. "Do not play the fool. I know that you were eavesdropping on our conversation." Shit, he was good. I rose quickly, eliciting a raised brow and upper lip from the geisha in front of me.

"We will work on that," he noted, and turned toward the okiya's entrance. I stepped out with him, sliding on my shoes and following closely. I left my bucket on the floor, brush lying forgotten beside it. I wasn't a servant anymore. But more than that.. I was going to find Rukia. I was sure of it.

But he was going to make me work for it.

We walked wordlessly. I wanted to strike up a conversation to fill the awkward silence, but what would I say to him? So I followed his lead, merely admiring the view.

What? I was a teenaged boy, and I was betting that almost every occupant in the city- no, country- would find him attractive. Gin had defined geisha as 'art on legs,' and that was exactly what Senbonzakura was, even with his face bare, hair loose, dress comparably plain.

I paused outside of the eerily familiar house as he opened the gate, and signaled for one of his servants to open the door. My last visit to his home had ended in disaster and a very, very sore back. He turned as he noticed my lagging, and beckoned me forward. Like a dog, I quickly ascended the stairs and left my sandals by the door.

The house's interior was awe-striking. Art hung on every wall. Light bathed the rooms, filtered by thin, flowing curtains. I was overwhelmed by the scent of sakura, nostalgia hitting me like a kick from a horse. He led me to his bedchamber, and sat me at a lone black lacquered table. It was nice- I had gotten out of the habit of being seated on pillows. We remained silent as a servant poured us tea. Senbonzakura did not look at me as he sugared his.

"You may speak," he invited. Weight dropped off of my shoulders. I had so much to say.. but if could all be summed up in one word.

"Why?" I asked, hands flat on the table. He took a moment to consider his answer, taking a slow sip from his glass.

"I am sure that you have been told over again that you are filled with fire." I had. "It's stifling. When fire burns too brightly, it singes. It burns the lungs. It destroys everything in its path." Alright, I'd never heard that take on it.

His eyes met mine, and held contact. I'd never met someone who freed me from thought with something as simple as a glance.

"But when fire is taken care of, it is a vital component of living. It brings warmth. Health. Love." He broke our gaze. "I aim to contain the fire."

I nodded, taking a long sip of tea. It was strong. Bitter. Just the way I liked it. He regarded me with amusement in his eyes.

"You can bear it plain?" I blinked, looking down at the glass.

"It's good," I said simply, taking another sip. He chuckled behind his own glass, a rich, warm sound.

"Perhaps I underestimated your strength."


The others had been thrilled to learn of my continued training. By others, I meant Izuru and Momo. Gin didn't care, and I'm sure the news of me being taken in by his rival pissed Aizen off to no end. When Mr. Urahara announced my internship, Momo threw her arms around me.

"I'm so happy for you! We can practice together agai-" She was cut off as Aizen grabbed her by the arm. She unwound herself from around my neck.

"Now, Hinamori-Fukutaichou. Is that how you act among all of your rivals?" he asked, loading his tone with disappointment. She shook her head, lowering it as she moved to stand beside her mentor.

Gin laughed, running fingers up Izuru's spine. I could see him barely contain a shudder. "My Izuru can help ya," he offered, turning toward Aizen just slightly. "You'll need it."


The next two weeks would be filled with the most bromidic lectures I'd heard in my life. I went to Senbonzakura's home every morning, and didn't leave until the sky glowed orange. We weren't learning music. We weren't working on any kind of intricate dances.

Manners. From sun-up to sun-down, I had to listen to Senbonzakura drone on about etiquette. He physically forced me into proper posture. He slapped my hands with the thin wood of his fan if I moved too quickly, or if I made an incorrect movement.

Alright.

I got the message.

Don't be a dick.

I understood the need for discipline. I was disciplined! Just not in the way that the prim and proper Senbonzakura was accustomed to. I had considerably less of a stick up my ass than he did.

I took my time, wandering to his house more than rushing to get started. He stood outside the gate, patiently waiting for me. Shit, was I that late? I jogged to catch up.

"Sorry I'm late, Sen-"

"We are beyond that point. You may call me Kuchiki-Taichou, if you prefer." I blinked. "Your tardiness is of no consequence. Come with me. We are taking our lessons elsewhere for the day."

I couldn't help it. I groaned. I wasn't going to have to sit through some boring ceremony, practicing the strict manners that had been infiltrating my mind for the last half month of my training.

"You will enjoy this lesson," he promised as we began to walk. "There is no way that I can teach you everything that you need to know. Not in the time we have allowed." What was he saying? That I was slow?

"I'm doing everything you tell me to," I said defensively. He held a hand up.

"That wasn't what I said. It is unwise for me to teach you everything myself. It would bring you to such a high disadvantage." But Senbonzakura was considered one of the best geisha in the Hanamachi. Eyebrows drawn together, I waited for him to make his point.

"If I give you only my tricks, you will be the trunk of the tree, not the branch. You will not bend with the wind, you will break in it. You need the influence of others to develop your own style. While Kyouka Suigetsu and his dear Tobiume are less than inclined to tutor you, I have strong connections. The geisha you are about to meet see you as a brother, not a rival."

Kuchiki-Taichou had friends?

The okiya we stood in front of was far more lavish than the one I was accustomed to. He rang the bell for me, and only moments later, we were greeted. A dark-skinned woman, hair colored an interesting shade of purple, bounded out of the okiya with a wild grin on her face.

"And here I was thinkin' that you didn't love us anymore, little Byakuya~," she teased as she opened the gate. "How about a hug?" she asked, arms wide open. My eyes were drawn immediately to her breass.. Hey, if Kuchiki-Taichou didn't want a hug, I'd be more than willing to suffer on his behalf.

Wait, his first name was Byakuya?

"Disgusting as always, Ms. Shihouin." She waved him off. Damn, I liked this woman, Not only was she hot, but had balls big enough to talk down the mighty Senbonzakura.. and have him allow it.

"Is Sogyou no Kotowari home?" he asked, thinly veiling the annoyance in his voice.

"Oh, him? Yeah. He's with Yumichika and Toshirou in the practice room. You kept us waiting," she scolded.

"And Sode no Shirayuki?" Kuchiki-Taichou looked at the woman expectantly.

"School. You know how the upper level classes can be," she waved off. "Go. Yumichika's probably getting pissy."

"Ruri'iro Kujaku does not frighten me."

"That's because you haven't seen him in the morning," she muttered.

As we wandered through the halls, I realized that Byakuya knew his way around. For some reason, I had simply assumed that he had started out independently.. but maybe this had been his okiya? He seemed to know each bend in the hall, the location of each hidden room. He opened a shouji and gestured for me. I stepped inside, and wasn't exactly sure what I had walked in on.

Three men occupied the room, seated around a small table. The room itself was enormous, with the back wall completely covered in mirrors, reminiscent of one of the practice rooms at school. One of the men stood as soon as we entered the room and approached us, bowing and greeting Byakuya with a smile. He was tall and slender, and moved with practiced grace. His gaze was soft-mannered, his wide brown eyes full of kindness, and marked by the subtle presence of crows feet creeping toward his temples. White hair fell long and loose toward the middle of his back. Even in private, his dress was formal, with a white haori resting over his navy blue shitage and hakama.

"I was hoping that you would pay us a visit," he said warmly. Byakuya responded with a deep bow of his own. His attention turned to me, and he smiled widely. "Is this who you spoke so highly of?" My brow raised and I turned to my Taichou. His expression remained even.

"I would like to introduce my new apprentice, Renji Abarai," Byakuya said, gesturing toward me. Taking the cue, I bowed to them.

"Renji, these are the geisha who will be assisting in your training. They vary from Fukutaichou such as yourself, as well as geisha more experienced than myself. May I present.."

He gestured to the white-haired man standing before us. "Sougyo no Kotowari."

"Ukitake-Taichou, please," the man corrected, bowing to me.

"Hyorinmaru." Another white-haired man stood from his sitting position at the table. His hair was shorter, spiked with bangs falling into his striking, intense blue eyes. His hair wasn't the only thing that was shorter- he rose to my chest, at best. He dressed in a striped white and blue yukata, the hem cut short to add invisible inches to his legs. I could barely contain a smirk. For such a short man, his expression was grumpy, harsh even.

"You may call me Hitsugaya-Taichou." Though he grumbled, his tone was of a high quality.

"Ruri'iro Kujaku." A lavish looking man stood before me, purple eyes bearing down into my soul, lips parted. The majority of his hair was cropped at chin level, with the exception of a braided segment which fell to his collarbone. His pink and purple flowered kimono fell low on his shoulders, revealing much of a pale neck. He had tied the garment loosely, and I could clearly see flashes of thigh as he approached.

"I am the Fukutaichou serving under Hyorinmaru. Ayasegawa-Fukutaichou, please."

"There are many skills that a geisha must master," Byakuya explained to me as the entire group moved to sit at the table. "I have conferred with everyone in this room, and we will all focus on different skill sets. Much of my job will be to ensure that you understand the commonalities, the links between each art that make a geisha different from a common artist."

I took this to mean that I would not be overwhelmed by trying to learn every skill from every geisha. I appreciated the fact that I would no longer be stuck listening to Byakuya speak on the same subject for hours. Sure, he was easy on the eyes, but in order to avoid any.. unexpected embarrassment.. I had to focus on the subject matter.

"Hyourinmaru has agreed to teach you music, including vocal music. Ruri'iro Kujaku has shown an aptitude for dance, and he will be instructing you in that subject. Being the most experienced geisha, as well as my Taichou, Sougyo no Kotowari will tutor you in your weakest subject." I frowned. "He will guide you in your practice of the art of conversation, storytelling, and flirtation."

I barely contained a groan. It was true. I was better on my feet than with my words. Byakuya went on to explain that I would begin every morning under the tutelage of my many volunteer instructors. After I had spent two hours with them, I would spend an additional two hours in his company, or until he was required to leave to entertain a client.

"When do I start shadowing you?" I asked. From what Izuru had divulged, he'd been given the opportunity to meet many different geisha, as well as their apprentices, while merely sitting in the background while Gin worked.

His answer took consideration.

"Soon."