Disclaimer: The characters in this story are all owned by Kubo Tite. I make no profit of writing this.
A/N: There is a poem written by Byakuya in this chapter. It is a masterpiece.
...
Pretend with me, people.
Yoruichi swiped away a layer of dust from on top of a tasteful armchair with a displeased grimace. She wasn't exactly a friend of extreme cleanliness, only Urahara knew how sloppy she could truly be, but the decreasing state of her old friend's apartment saddened her. The lights were never lit, dust covered almost every available space and surface. If she didn't know any better, she would say the small apartment was unoccupied. It was silent like a grave.
Maybe it was true in a way, she thought as she sat down to look the back of a writing man, it was home only for a walking corpse.
Byakuya didn't let the uninvited guest bother himself. If he even noticed the woman's presence he didn't show it, not stopping writing even for a second. At first Yoruichi had tried talking to him, months ago when she and Urahara had taken the position of Byakuya's "agents", but he didn't seem to be to eager to chat. He answered when asked direct question, but stayed otherwise silent.
On the corner of table lied a thick stack of paper, some of Byakuya's finished writings. Yoruichi or Urahara stopped by a few times in every two weeks. They payed the almost nonexistent bills of the water and electricity, dropped of some canned food and took the scripts he had been working on. Selling the scripts was a good business, even if the prices were ridiculously cheap considering Byakuya's talent. Most of the profit went to Urahara's and Yoruichi's pockets, since Byakuya didn't care about the money.
He said he wouldn't need it much longer.
"You're looking thin", she said to the man, not even expecting him to answer. "You should eat something else than instant ramen and tuna, just for variety."
Byakuya didn't say anything. The silent tapping noise of his writing didn't even slow down, as if he tuned out all the comments the dark skinned lady voiced out of habit. It would have annoyed a lesser woman, but Youruichi was used to it. It wasn't even a new development, Byakuya had always tried his best to ignore her. The new development was that he was succeeding.
"Fine, be that way." The feline woman threw her hands behind her neck and searched for more comfortable position. "Do you still remember Renji? Abarai Renji?"
The writing stopped. Yoruichi smirked, apparently pleased with herself. "Seems like there is still a bit life in you. That guy seems to know who you are. He is looking for you." She yawned, scratching her back. "He keeps asking about you now and then. Apparently he is working for some literature magazine and getting shitty payment, so sometimes he does cleaning and other small stuff at Urahara's shop to get some free food. The jackass."
Byakuya said nothing, but Yoruichi knew he was listening. "He seems to know we can't or won't tell anything, but he keeps asking anyway. Like he hopes some clue would slip... but of course we aren't that simple." The woman looked at the spiderweb filled ceiling, looking thoughtful. "I wonder why he is so obsessed with you."
She looked at her conversational partner. His shoulders looked a bit more stiff than normal, but no other difference could be seen. After the long silence he started writing again, first slower and then with increasing pace.
She sighed at let her head lull back against the armrest. "I just thought you should know." How boring. She had been hoping for much stronger reaction. Maybe her hunch had been wrong, and Byakuya wasn't as affectionate with that idiot as she had thought?
After a few more minutes of lazying on the dusty armchair she got up and left. Byakuya stopped writing again, considering what he should do.
This was unacceptable. Still, against his better knowledge sparks of curiosity, wonder and hope twinkled inside of him. They were smothered quickly. Where he would end soon, there was no need for love.
He started writing again.
There had been more today, five poems. Three of them were vividly descriptive feeling pieces, one resembled a old-fashioned ballad. The fifth one had caught Renji's attention. Mainly because it was clearly addressed to him.
He rubbed his his forehead tiredly, trying to calm his pounding head. The piece of paper, lying so innocently before him on the table, was mocking his past effort and belittling his wish to see the man he had once adored and respected..
Why he wanted to run away so much?
I know, there is no treasure
a worth one man to find
rare mirage of twisted reality
That could mean Byakuya knew he was looking for him, and said it wasn't worth the trouble. Or it could be something else.
Alas, thorny roses are growing
below in the soil of memories
alone with the past, sorrow and rage
Byakuya was obviously far from accepting what had happened. Sorrow and rage, hm? Frustrated Renji sighed and kept on reading.
Reach, and you shall find pain
oh, those hands will be scraped and bloody
forbidden, such things truly are
Well, fuck you. No matter the distance, Byakuya was once again doing pretty decent job in frowning at Renji's best efforts.
The last paragraph was much lower on the page, as it was added on afterthought.
Forward is the only road
the place for the beast in memories
shall be six feet under this ground
That was the part Renji hoped he had understood wrong. Thinking about it, in all the other parts of the poem had a touch of misery, as if Byakuya believed his life had come to an end.
Renji resisted an urge to rip the paper to pieces. That certainly wouldn't do. After all that trouble he wouldn't let Byakuya do something so idiotic.
Was this really the same man Renji had known five years ago? He could remember straight, prideful posture and the contrast between pale skin and raven black hair as he had seen them just yesterday. He wasn't a man who would take his own life, no matter the circumstances.
What sort of horror had his life been after his wife's death?
Renji wanted to see him again. Tell him he was forgiven, he hadn't done anything wrong.
He sighed and looked at his clock. Quarter to six. He had still time to drop over at Urahara's, bum some food and ask him to deliver a message to a friend.
A/N: Can anyone figure out how Renji knew the poem was addressed to him? You'll get cookies if you catch it. :D