...

"I don't get it," Ichigo was grumbling, feeling out of place with his black clothes among all the white, "Why the hell would you wear white on a funeral? I mean-"

"Hoho, it's not that hard to guess, now isn't it?" Renji replied sarcastically somewhere from behind Ichigo and Rukia, "We usually wear black and on such occasions, we'll wear black too?"

"Well," he actually hadn't thought of it at all, "It still doesn't matter! Over at home, we wear black on funerals."

Rukia, who had been up until now chuckling at their antics, decided that it was time to intervene their argument. Not to mention that the Captain-Commander would soon start talking and those two had to be quiet by that time.

"The traditional colour for such events is white," she snapped at them, effectively shutting them up, "Ichigo, your culture now is too influenced by weird western movies, but in the past it was like here as well."

He simply gaped at her. Maybe the tone of her voice surprised him. Behind him, Renji let a smirk dawn on his face - he was finally beginning to see the spirit back in Rukia (at least he thought so.)

Right at that moment, there was a sudden sound which ended any stray senseless banter. The music continued with a solemn tone, as the Captain-Commander ascended the temporary stage. His hair was as white as usual, but it seemed like there was a new line on his face for every dead person in his war. The most important people who died (if one could say that) were in dark coffins, which were neatly arranged in a row around the old figure of the Captain-Commander, as though they had been waiting for the moment they were to be burnt for all their life. Rukia noted that his Zanpakuto wasn't in his harmless staff form, but instead it was in the traditional, deadlier form of a sword, taking a rest in its hilt.

And when that ancient man opened his mouth to speak, it was as though everyone stopped breathing, lulled by the words. He told of the terrible war Seiretei had to wage, of the sins it had to redeem by this war, of the horrendous loss everyone suffered. He said that there was no one who hadn't been affected by that war - everyone lost something; be it a limb, a friend, a relative or a mentor. Even he, the Captain-Commander was the same, having lost one of his closest people - his Lieutenant, Chōjirō Sasakibe. That was the reason why today he didn't stand above them, but beside them and shared their sorrows and grief over the past.

Then his hands went up above his head, reaching for the heavens in a majestic gesture, followed by the graceful sweep of the fabric of his garment.

"The bodies resting around us in coffins... They once belonged to souls of heroes. Their sacrifices shall reside in our repentant minds for as long as we last. Today, we offer them the only thing we can: our respect and a proper funeral."

With those words, he moved the hilt of his sword just a little upwards, but still the steel shone gray in the sunlight, making his intentions clear.

Then, just like that, he summoned his Shikai.

Everyone ducked, knowing the immense strength of their Captain-Commander, but were surprised as they felt nothing a second after. One by one, curious heads rose up to see what was happening. Apparently, Yamamoto was keeping his reiatsu in check so as not to scorch everyone and have to cremate not twelve but twelve thousand people.

And so he started burning the bodies in the coffins, without even opening them. He simply yelled out the name of the person, called him quietly a hero and proceeded with the burning of the flesh. It was nothing more than a formality since those bodies weren't material, but still the power of the moment rendered everyone speechless. They couldn't see the body in front of them turn into ashes as it was encased in a coffin; all they could feel was a sudden flash of heat and the quiet murmur of an old, tired man. And it was enough.

Once he was done with a body, he moved on to the next one where the same procedure happened, as some servants wheeled out the coffins from where they'd take out the ash.

Rukia's whole body was tensed. She knew her brother was somewhere out there, but all Yamamoto-sama muttered so far were names of people she could only attach to faces (and her brother was definitely not just a name and a face.) He would just simply... Right now... Wait, still... One more—

"Byakuya Kuchiki: a good Captain, grandson and brother. A hero."

Followed by a sudden wave of heat and pain.

Through the haze of the pain she threw a skeptical look at Renji who replied with the same. He had been called a hero.

Quite an unfitting title for Byakuya Kuchiki, she realized. A hero was someone who'd fight for glory, and her brother didn't even talk about glory. Not only had he simply wanted to help his only family now - she and Renji, to an extent - but he had done his duties as a Shinigami as well. There had been no talk about glory or being a hero. There had just been duties and family.

Byakuya Kuchiki had been called a hero. He shouldn't have.

A shiver ran up and down her arms and spine. She wanted to turn her eyes away. But didn't.

Suddenly, Ichigo's arm wound around her thin shoulders, but she didn't take any solace in that.

(He might disappear as well. Just like Onii-sama did.)

...

...

Random bits of trivia:

colour for funerals in Japan is, as you know, white. However, I've heard that nowadays, black is the more commonplace colour for funerals. Hence Ichigo's confusion :D