A/N:

Welcome to the fourth chapter! Ulquiorra's number. :3

I have a feeling most of you are angry with me – just leaving you hanging and the romance isn't there properly yet… I must have proofed this chapter one hundred times now, so I just hope it's all right. See, I've been trying to continue with my other fic just to get it over and done with (even though that's not working too well). I've been on hiatus (obviously) and still will be, but I'd like to leave you with something at least… so you won't have to wait long for Chapter 5. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or anything related to it.

Chapter 4: Spring

Byakuya opened his eyes, responding to the rising sun. A warmth and haze was spread over his large yet plain bedroom, telling him that today was the first day of spring. At last the days of dripping frost and biting wind were over. He rose and shielded his grey eyes from that brilliant sunlight, lifting the white covers and stepping out of the futon before flexing his arms. Hopefully today would be better than yesterday.

After they had escorted the woman – Hisana was her name – to the gallery, they had went to the hall. A religious sage from the Spirit King's dimension had come to give a presentation of some sort, talking about the old culture and history of Soul Society. A few of the other noble clans had attended, including the Shiba and Shihouin clan. It was a great honour to host someone from the Spirit King's court; the Kuchiki clan was chosen for their responsibility over the records of Soul Society.

An honour it was, but not the most exciting one.

While he freshened up, Byakuya thought about the drawling speeches, lamented by the sage, of the ancient myths involving reiatsu and reiryoku – goodness, he was not even sure why he was still thinking of something so trivial. Afterwards, he wove his inky black hair into his kenseikan; he had long given up on those ridiculous hair bands, even when he was not wearing the intricate hairpieces. After tying the white sash of his shihakusho, he tugged on a faded green haori and left his chamber, headed for the room leading off from the Sunken Garden.

As he strode through the corridors which were gleaming with the morning sunlight, he passed Kouga Kuchiki's old study, where Namae was sitting behind the low desk upon a senza bench. She was indeed an aged soul, being on rather good terms with Retsu Unohana from when they were infantile souls, but like her friend, she appeared quite young. Her chocolate brown hair was worn loose, with only the top layer woven around hair ornaments. Today she wore grey forget-me-nots – but was she not wearing those yesterday, as well? Looking at her delicate face, smeared with weariness, Byakuya understood. She had spent the entire night in the study, with that thin blanket over her shoulders.

"Namae-sama?"

As if being jolted from a trance, she looked up from the white kenseikan in her hands, red hair still caught in it. "Byakuya? What brings you here?" she said softly.

"I was passing by. Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you. Today…" she drifted off.

"I know. I'll leave you now," said Byakuya. He was not sure what to say, so it would be best to make his exit. He had already given her a sincere apology last week at dinner for his behaviour, but now she needed to be alone.

And again he was making his way to the Sunken Garden, only a courtyard away. But when he arrived at the door, he could have sworn he felt a reiatsu inside. He had not felt it very often, but could recognize it easily; though when he tried to sense it again, it was as if his ability to sense reiatsu had been fairly muffled. He slid open the door, only proving his theory to be correct. "Who are you?" he asked, making sure it was her.

She jumped a little, her back to him. She was holding a large paintbrush, stroking it over the large sheet of parchment on the floor. She began to turn around. "I'm Hisa…" she drifted off, recognizing the man at the door. After a moment of stunned gaping, she dropped the paintbrush and scrambled to her feet, bowing her head. "Apologies, Kuchiki-sama, my name is-"

"Hisana," he finished. "I know."

Hisana nodded, biting her lip in her bowing position.

"You're the artist from yesterday?"

"Y-Yes, Kuchiki-sama," she confirmed with a stutter.

Silence.

"What is it that you're painting?"

"Calligraphy, Kuchiki-sama."

He stepped into the room until he was standing right next to her, looking down at the elegant letters. "It's beautiful. You have a lot of talent," he commented honestly.

She had turned around beside him to look at her work, making sure to keep her head tucked. "…Thank you, Kuchiki-sama."

Looking down at her, he could see her ears pinking darker than her cheeks. He looked back at the scroll, smiling to himself. "Please, rise," he finally said, deciding her bowing form must be uncomfortable. She rose to her full height; it only reached up to his shoulder. Once again, his grey eyes surveyed her, noting she had her hair pinned up with a navy blue clamp, only her frayed fringe hanging between her eyes. "I'd like for you to teach it to me."

She turned to stare at him in shock, but when she did, her gaze locked onto his. Her iris-coloured eyes widened, and she averted her gaze to the ground. Her cheeks became an even more violent shade of pink; he smiled again – this time openly – and looked away, straight ahead. She cleared her throat quietly; she had to provide an answer, of course. "As you wish… Kuchiki-sama," she uttered, her voice shy.

"Mm," was all he said before sweeping away, the disturbed air rushing over her.

Outside, he was trying to figure out what had just happened. Spring must have settled in on his mind, too. He had definitely been thinking of doing that, but could not arrive at the answer as to why he had. The words had just come out; to ask her to teach him traditional calligraphy. But as the future head of this clan, he felt could not regret his actions, and did not even try to do so.

Then he realized something. How had she gotten into the room? It was not that he minded, but who had told her to? This was the answer that he could arrive at now: Ginrei Kuchiki.

Any ordinary onlooker would have seen a pale, young man in deep thought, his long forefinger pressed to his chin. They would have seen him look up, as though coming to a conclusion. They would have seen a sudden flash and the sound of whooshing air as the young man moved at the speed of light. But they would have thought he disappeared, instead of moving with his advanced ability of shunpo.

Byakuya moved with ease through the halls of the manor. His grandfather would be making his way to the dining room; breakfast was going to begin quite soon, and Ginrei was always more than punctual. He halted himself at an angle when he arrived at the door of his grandfather's bedroom, of which Ginrei stepped out at that very moment.

"Good morning, Byakuya. I see you're up early. Your reiatsu was moving quite quickly," said the aged man. "It's good to see how your abilities have improved."

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. "Good morning, Grandfather-sama."

"What is troubling you?" said Ginrei, lazily noting his grandson's expression.

"The assistant-artist." Ginrei began to walk, and so Byakuya followed beside him. "I know you sent her there to work on purpose."

Ginrei sighed. "Don't be paranoid, Byakuya. It isn't healthy, especially for the future clan-leader."

"I am not upset, Grandfather-sama. But I would prefer if you admitted it."

"Ah, good. Your temper is under control, and that means you are improving."

That still doesn't answer my question. "Well?"

"Yes, I have sent her there. And now you can be more focused."

Byakuya's face eased into something of a smirk. "Actually, Grandfather-sama, I will be spending more time in that room."

The older man's calm expression wavered for just a second. "In the same room – by the Sunken Garden?"

"The very same." Byakuya's smirk deepened. Ginrei nodded once expectantly, prompting Byakuya on. "She has agreed to teach me calligraphy," said Byakuya airily – or at least as airy as he could manage.

"Calligraphy? Your writing is perfectly fine."

"I am not learning to write; I wish to cultivate my interest. Why, Grandfather-sama? Are you not a member of the Calligraphy Society yourself?" The grandson was secretly delighted to be winning this argument.

"The president, of course," answered Ginrei. "But I did not think you had such an interest."

"It seems that I do," said Byakuya, complete with a shrug.

"Very well." Ginrei sighed once again. "Let us go to breakfast, then."

And so the argument was won.

Breakfast had been a quiet, tedious affair. Everyone was still worn out from the night before, but as usual, very little words had been exchanged between neither the immediate family nor the elders. For the whole duration Byakuya had been distracted, still thinking about last week's tea. There was something going on, something the captains of the Gotei 13 did not want anyone else to know about. Could the lieutenants be involved too?

These things ran through Byakuya's mind as he walked further and further from the dining room. Ginrei did not often invite outsiders to the estate, nor would he try to hide it from his grandson… But then an odd sight halted his thoughts: his grandfather was talking to the assistant-artist, handing her a roll of parchment yellowed with age, her head bowing as it had earlier on. Byakuya darted towards them – he knew his grandfather would not use someone specifically to spite him. There might be another motive for her to not work in the gallery with Nikugaki.

"Afternoon, Grandfather-sama, Hisana," he said coolly, his eyes reluctantly tearing away from her to look at his grandfather.

Ginrei nodded in acknowledgement. "Artist, you will paint the flowerbeds and the greenery in the Sunken Garden – basically the majority of it. Be sure to include the insects, especially the stinging ones. Dismissed."

"Yes, Captain Kuchiki," she said with a nod, leaving Byakuya and Ginrei alone.

"What was that about?" demanded Byakuya when she was out of earshot.

"That's not very polite, Byakuya."

"What do you expect? You refuse to tell me of anything that is going on with the clan or the squad."

"Some topics are best left untouched."

"I am the future head of this clan – I have the right to know."

"Is that the only reason you can find to make me divulge? Well, it isn't very promising."

Byakuya's wispy brow creased, his eyes unusually widening. "Not promising?"

"Calm down, calm down," said Ginrei, as he began his explanation. "It seems I have to remain captain of the squad for another period of time, but you will still be head of the clan."

"Why?"

"Have you achieved Bankai yet?"

"I see. So that's the reason why I can't be captain."

"So you haven't achieved Bankai, then?"

"No, but I am getting there."

"Excellent. Take your time, grandson."

"I plan to. But I don't want to become a captain with a pathetic Bankai, and neglect my training just because I think Bankai is all I need… I want to develop my Bankai and learn more special abilities."

Then Ginrei did something he had not done for a long time. He lifted his arm and placed his hand on Byakuya's head, pressing down lightly on his kenseikan. "I am proud of you, Byakuya," he said.

Byakuya was surprised. His grandfather used to do this when he was a child, and for a moment he was a hot-headed young boy again, his hair loose and untidy and a polished Moku-Sakura gripped tightly in his scrawny hand. And his grandfather would chastise him, trying to calm his temper, reminding him that if he would just calm down, he might improve. After those practices, they would have a steaming cup of tea together or walk around the squad barracks. His grandfather was his role model.

Rushing back to the present, Ginrei removed his hand and moved past Byakuya, so that they were side-by-side, facing opposite directions. "And that is what we discussed at the tea."

Byakuya felt a rush of air as his grandfather used shunpo to make an escape. He sighed. That hasty exit made him wonder how true the previous statement was. I'm sick of thinking about that tea. He pinched the bridge of his nose and made his way to the Sunken Garden. Hisana had been given a scroll by Ginrei, and now that she may be alone, Byakuya would take the opportunity to question her.

Walking a few paces, something rather strange and twinkling caught his eye. He bent down and plucked a small, brass ring from the ground – no, it was more of a hoop. He suddenly felt a sting on his finger, and realized there was a pair of small fangs on its side, one hooked loosely in his flesh. This must have been carried by his grandfather, until just under a minute ago when he used shunpo. But why would Ginrei be in possession of such a thing? With a wince, he pulled the hoop away from his finger. One of the fangs now had a single drop of Byakuya's blood clinging to it.

Hisana – and the Sunken Garden, too – would have to wait.

He was going to the Kuchiki family library; not only were recreational readings there, but in another section of the building was where the histories of noble and well-known families in Soul Society were compiled by Kuchiki family members. The actual histories were kept in the Seireitei Record Building, but it was here that they originated. One man, the Recordkeeper, was in charge of seeing that the exchange of information from here to the Record Building was successful and discreet, and that all information was current. But in other cases, he was the faithful yet scarce employee of the Kuchiki family, doing normal library work as well. And it was he that Byakuya would have to speak to in order to gain the information he needed. Byakuya walked briskly to the Kachikachi Courtyard, in which the main entrance to the library could be found.

The quiet ticking of the gigantic black stone clock permeated the thick calm of the courtyard, bouncing off the cold walls; the clock was placed high above the library entrance at the end of the courtyard. Only members of the Kuchiki family and invited guests, ones with permission, were allowed access to the library, the entrance of which resembled an elegant, grey stone carving set into the wall. It was too easy not to notice the heavy double doors – also that depressing grey colour – which opened responding to a single light rap upon their wooden surfaces.

The pair of Onmitsukidou guards stepped aside, uncrossing their staffs and opening the low iron gate. Byakuya stepped onto the cobbled stone. The courtyard was not as large as it seemed, as a colossal library occupied most of its space, though it still had the ability to dwarf anything. He had stepped out of the warmth of the main corridors behind him, feeling the cold air capture him at once. Now he proceeded forward, further into the shadows of the Kachikachi Courtyard, where the sunlight could barely reach. Even for him, one who had grown up on this estate and who was familiar and comfortable with most places, this courtyard seemed sinister, more so in the day with the moving shadows – he should rather have come in the night.

He knocked on the door, and an eye peered through a camouflaged peephole. The heavy doors opened wide.

"Good afternoon, Kuchiki-sama," said the timid little man, bowing deeply.

"Afternoon, Recordkeeper," said Byakuya.

"Do come inside, my lord."

"Of course." He stepped inside as the Recordkeeper shut both doors with too much effort. "I wish to see the histories."

"If I may ask…"

Byakuya nodded. "Yes?"

"Do you require help with a specific topic?"

"Actually, I do."

"Let us go to the records room, then."

Inside the library, it was quite a warm atmosphere, surprising anyone who thought the library's interior would be worse than outside. Shelves upon shelves of books ran the length of the floor, with alcoves scattered here and there. There were two or three blazing fireplaces in the main alcoves, and all of these objects stood on thick, red carpeting. Many lamps gave the large area light; not too dim, not too bright, natural almost.

But the Recordkeeper led Byakuya down the centre aisle all the way to the last shelf, where a narrow staircase led up to tiny double doors made of stone. These doors opened into an enclosed room cluttered with draws and shelves and cabinets and boxes; all were organized quite neatly, but there were definitely too many. Three plain desks with two chairs each sat amongst the various containers.

"Now, may I be of help, my lord?" asked the Recordkeeper.

"Yes." Byakuya produced the hoop from his pocket. "I found this in a corridor. What do you make of it?"

The Recordkeeper took the hoop from Byakuya. "Ah, I am familiar with this design. This definitely belongs to a member of the noble Fon clan."

"The Fon clan? What it is doing here?"

"As you may know, the members of that clan are highly skilled assassins, executioners, and the like, and it is a requirement that each member joins the Onmitsukidou, otherwise they will be cast off from the clan. Now, having dealt with elite missions and being highly proficient in Hakuda and Hoho, they have no trouble planting trinkets like these in other places.

"Originally, the first person whose blood was spilled on a trinket had to be killed by the trinket's owner. The clan members who had that belief died out a long time ago. Now, in the present, it simply means that you will be expecting a visit from the clan member whom the trinket belongs to."

"So who does this trinket belong to?" asked Byakuya.

"I'm not too sure. The members of this clan are usually named after stinging creatures, a well-known example being the bee. These fangs look much like a spider's, so naturally, the clan member's name will be something similar. But I can tell these don't belong to the clan's head, as that person owns round, simple hoops, without any other attachment. The clan's head will always be a woman called Soifon, and your friend, Shihouin-sama, must be acquainted with her."

Friend? Byakuya swallowed. "Why?"

"Both are from the Onmitsukidou. The head of the Fon clan has a purpose in her life, and that purpose is to serve the head of the Shihouin clan for as long as they are alive. It is quite a stressful operation, as bonds can be formed and severed. Especially in the case of the secretive Fon clan – their clan is made up of ambitious ninjas and ninjas-in-training; it is quite hard to form a good base of trust with such people, you see."

"Then does this hoop mean we'll be expecting a visitor?"

"Yes."

Byakuya frowned and took the trinket. "This is absurd. How will we know when they are coming?"

"Oh, yes, I completely forgot. Forgive me. The number of fangs, stings or patterns on the trinket indicates the number of days after which they shall be arriving."

There were two fangs on the trinket. "Two days."

"That is correct. But keep in mind how long the trinket was here for. Would you like some more information, or would you rather research it on your own, my lord?" The Recordkeeper was bowing again.

"No, thank you, Recordkeeper. I shall be off now." Byakuya turned. "Don't worry, I'll let myself out."

Now to tell – or confront, even – Ginrei about the trinket and their visitor.

A/N:

Thanks for your reviews, by the way! Appreciate them tons :D

Those questions few dare to ask: Who is the owner of the Fon trinket? When will he – or she – make an appearance? Was Ginrei truthful when speaking to his grandson? What will happen in the next chapter, when Byakuya gets better at calligraphy? And will I ever get good at these cliffhanger thingies? Stay tuned for the next episode (chapter)…

All right, now I shall tell you this. This is a Romance and Hurt/Comfort story, with the slightest hints of Mystery. Better? And next thing… don't you just love the word 'trivial'? Ahem, sorry. Bear with me, won't you? :P