"What're they selling?" *deep smoker's voice*
"…Chocolates."
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN BLEACH! ENJOY THIS PLOT THOUGH!
XXX
Chapter 7
He didn't know this city.
Houses soared, windows glancing down precariously. The only sounds came from a bubbling creak that was somewhere close by, the chirping sound of water hitting rock after rock filling the air. Grass—mostly dead, though some of it managed a sickly puke-green color—was littered in patches everywhere, dusty dirt covering it like a shawl. Some birds—blue and brilliant in their foliage—tweeted about casually, their little beaks breaking some unsuspecting worm. Flowers littered the ground, their colors contrasting sharply with the grass' own, reds and blues and verdigrises—
The little boy sneezed.
Dust fluttered in the air, and it was then he realized that fireflies were floating about, precarious, their beautiful colors of bright fluorescent green almost a testament to the night air. He stared at them, mesmerized, his hazel eyes widening to impossible proportions—
"Ichigo!"
Glancing back, his smile rivaled that of a thousand light-bulbs, his eyes closed in bliss. He ran towards her, the woman, the caller—his mother. She was bent over, arms outstretched, smile lighting that cherubic face of hers, bright red lipstick catching the fading remnants of night. In her arms, crinkled plastic rustled, eggs and milk and cheese and all the necessities he needed peeking out, like a newborn bird from its nest—
"Ichigo, dear, if you don't hurry up, I'm going to leave without you."
With an even bigger grin than before, Ichigo yelled, "Wait for me!" and proceeded to run towards her, dust kicking up everywhere. She smiled, her bright orange hair accentuating her face, her mouth, the very face of the woman he loved—
But then the scene changed, shifted. Now he was in a room, darkness settled in every corner, his own breathing ragged, impossibly loud in the dark space. There was hardly anything in this room except for the suffocating blackness and a window that overlooked a river. No stars shone, the moon a waxy proxy in the night. He shivered, afraid. Where was he? More importantly, where was his mother?
"Ichigo? Ichigo?"
Suddenly, he heard a woman's voice, the sound carrying, echoing, the winds of today and tomorrow and yesterday arousing even his most primal instincts. He wanted to cry out, he knew, but something deep inside of him told him to remain silent, to stay quiet even if it killed him. He didn't know why, didn't understand what was going on.
He just wanted his mom!
"Ichigo?" The voice carried through, and it was then he realized that it was coming from the window. Ajar, like it hadn't been before, he stared at it, his own eyes wide, his mouth opened in a silent, little gasp. Like a silent agreement had passed from his tongue to his toes, he stayed rooted to the spot, impossibly and irrevocably traumatized by whatever was happening outside. He wasn't sure why, though. This woman… she was his mother, wasn't she? Why couldn't he move…?
"Ichigo, where are you going?" The woman's voice raised in intensity, a shriek bordering on those perfect lips of hers. "Don't, don't—!" But the sounds died off as a splash reached his ears, the sound cannibalistically cutting into the deathly silence, his own ears ringing like a pan had hit against his temple.
It was like a curse had been broken, and with an intensity unknown to the little boy, he began to wail. His wails—could she hear them?—disintegrated the quiet and chilling night air, and he was suddenly very aware of how utterly alone he was. Where was he? What was he doing? He wanted to shout, "I'm here, I'm here!", but he couldn't find his voice, could only scream that terrible, terrible wail. Why couldn't she hear him? Why didn't she—
A loud gasp filled the air, plucking the scream away from his breath. Then, quietly, like a soft chime ringing on a windy day, he heard, "Ichigo… Leave my… son… alone…"
Somehow, he'd made it to the window, his feet moving against his will. He wanted to close his eyes, but he wasn't sure why. What was going on? That thought kept plaguing his mind, enticing his thoughts, destroying his will power to even stand up.
He fell to his knees, gasping.
Except, this time, he wasn't greeted with the pure-white plaster indigenous to this room or the shining window connecting the outside world and his heart. No—now he was soaked to the bone, his shirt ruined, three steady drops of rain cascading down his cheeks. Rather, not rain, but tears, salty, briny tears that constricted his throat, his eyes, his everything. He couldn't breathe, couldn't feel the cool, shiny window as his hands—soft and smooth, the hands of a child—opened it, couldn't feel his own heart palpitating in his chest…
The scene changed.
Now, instead of being in the room, he was there, the river's waters roaring in his ears, the slimy feeling of rainwater as it cascaded down his neck soaking him to the bone. A harsh scent enveloped his senses—almost the smell of metal and rotting flesh.
Blood.
He felt his Adam's apple quiver and he covered his mouth, fearful he was about to puke, his body shivering from the effort. Nothing came and deep down, he was grateful, though he didn't kid himself to think this was over. Glancing down, he saw deep, carmine stains, so completely unassuming in their nature, staining his hands, the color unnatural—deathly even. He realized, somewhere far back in the furthest pit of his mind, that this was blood, that this was her blood—
It was then he realized the woman's eyes were watching him.
Startled, almost like a gallivanting feline on the highway, he reared back, the rain pulsing harder. But the woman's eyes—dully lit, but still staring at him—were a beautiful hazel, bathed in matching eyelashes, lips the color of an ashy rose. She was beautiful.
And that was exactly why she was so horrendous.
Ichigo, his hands shaking, uttered, "W-what's happening…?"
It was like a strike of lightening, her reaction; the terrified scream that ripped from her throat almost as loud as the ominous toll of a church bell. Her eyes were looking at him—yet, they weren't, not really— those irises shrouded, completely disconnected from the outside world. She continued to scream and scream—
And just as suddenly, it stopped.
Cracking open a cautious eye he hadn't known he'd closed, Ichigo gasped. No longer was he there at the river, the woman's screams ripping into his body. No longer did he smell the blood, its metallic tang becoming the air, the scent heady. Rather, he was in a room—the same one from before?—except this time, there was nothing but a mirror, cracked and splintered along its crevices, a wooden frame encroaching the yellowed glass. He found his eyes and stood there, terrified.
But why? The more logical part of his brain asked. Why are you so scared?
In all actuality, he didn't know why his breathing was erratic, why his heart was racing, why he felt like a cornered rabbit, ready to be devoured by a wolf. He didn't know.
And, he supposed, that was the scariest realization of all.
He continued to stare at himself, unable to move, unable to feel like he wanted to move. He was pale, he noticed, the pallor as though he was an influenza victim, both startling and terrifying in its own right. His body was shaking, shaking as though possessed, like he was a puppet connected to some unforgiving string. His eyes, once such a righteous mahogany, were blood shot, the red veins like spindling spider webs in the country.
All in all, he looked like hell—or like he'd seen it, positively terrified. Against his will, a shaky hand touched the mirror, the glass smooth—smoother than he expected anyways—the dust clinging to his fingers like a second skin. He sneezed, and the dust flew everywhere, though it soon became lost in the inky darkness.
Eyes.
The hair rose on his neck and he subconsciously took a step back, his eyes wide. It had lasted for only a moment, but he'd felt as though someone was staring at him, sizing him up like he was some tasty morsel ready to be devoured. It was unsettling, sure, but more than anything, it finally explained the dread that had been enshrouding his mind.
"…Hello? Can anyone hear me?" No answer, but somewhere deep down, he hadn't really expected one. But those eyes! They hadn't left, hadn't forgotten him in his tiny act of bravery—no, they'd grown in their intensity, staring at him, the feeling horrendous, disgusting even. Who was there? Or rather, what was there?
"Hello…?"
The night dimmed, the blackness—still dark by any means, but less, almost like a gray charcoal as compared to the darkest depths of hell—dissipating, almost erased, evaporated. He wasn't sure why, but he felt a pull to the mirror, his gaze captured there.
What he saw nearly ripped a scream from his dry throat.
Two eyes stared back at him, except they weren't his own; no, these eyes were too dark, the hue a royal azure, black lashes framing alabaster skin, matching hair shining softly like a lamp. The gaze was intense and it seemed to strip Ichigo of every insecurity he'd ever harbored—only to replace them with horrifying revelations never meant to be unveiled to the human psyche. His face, once immaculate, was covered in blood, the unsteady dips and troughs like a portrait, splattered with paint. And his hands…
They too were covered in a deep crimson.
That was the final straw. With one last, terrified utterance in the dark void, Ichigo felt the blood rush from his face.
Then he was gone, clad in a familiar bed.
XXX
It was a whir of activity.
Byakuya looked on with impassive eyes, while Renji stared, mouth agape. His eyes took in the tall structure, amazed that such a thing existed in Japan—no, in the world. Outside, it was the picture of perfection; with hedges clipped to the exact millimeter, some blood-red roses surrounded them, their stems and thorns constricting the emerald foliage like a stunning halo. Steps came up to the door, a red carpet—with nary a speck of dust on it—leading the way, coating the entrance. It was almost like one entering an actor's party, the red carpet out to greet every guest, its presence both distinguished and reassuring in its nature. The doorway, a solid panel of oak, was slightly ajar, voices sounding from within.
"Damn it! Riruka, close the door! The air conditioning's going out!"
And if the structure was marvelous, the insides were perhaps even more so. People of every age and gender lined the walls, each wearing a tailored suit complete with noir accents, two button-up cuffs on the arms, and a plain but adequate white collar, complete with the company logo. Men wore their hair short, trimmed, yet too long to be military; and women, unless under similar circumstances, wore their hair back in buns, each as crisp and professional as the last. Plus—not like the owner would admit it— all the girls were young; possibly college-bound or post college-bound students who could dress well and exercise as though their lives depended on it.
Their attitudes reflected that as well.
At the receptionist's desk, a young auburn-haired girl sat, her stunning azure eyes shining delicately like fragile china. Her outfit matched the rest of them, a smile cultivating her pretty face—and pretty she was. If Renji didn't already have Byakuya, well, who's to say what could happen, really? He wasn't exactly picky…
"Welcome!" Renji felt his mouth quirk, her smile contagious, but at Byakuya's cool gaze, he stopped, collecting himself. Now was not the time to be a fawning schoolgirl.
"May I help you?" The girl gestured to her left. "Maybe some water—a glass of wine?"
Byakuya nodded his head, his eyes boring into hers. "Two glasses of water would be fine, thank you." The girl nodded and stood up, smoothing out her skirt. She excused herself quickly and efficiently, her heels clicking like tiny little shots from a gun; and soon, she disappeared out of sight. Renji sighed, relieved.
"I'm not used to stuff like that," he admitted, though his boyfriend didn't seem to hear him. Laughing slightly, he asked, "What're we doing here, anyway? Are we picking up paperwork or something?"
This time, Byakuya's face shifted from impassive businessman to devious lover. "In a sense," he answered cryptically, his mouth quirked slightly upward. Seeing the woman approaching out of his peripheral, he sighed. "You'll find out in a minute."
That was strange, Renji decided. Byakuya usually wasn't the sort of person who'd avoid the question like that—he was always straightforward, cutting right to the point, his rule of 'no bullshit' even dominating his private life. That was how they'd met actually—Byakuya, in all his blunt candidness, had taken Renji out to dinner in hopes of… furthering their relationship, so to speak. He'd even confessed to him in the typical Byakuya way: "Date me." It had taken Renji by surprise, his bluntness, and he remembered vaguely how offended he'd gotten at first…
Renji stole a glance out of the corner of his eye, his tongue running over his lips subconsciously. Yes, he remembered that day—quite well actually; but now here he was, standing with Byakuya through thick and thin, their partnership only the tip of the iceberg.
Shaking his head, he turned back to the receptionist, eyeing the glasses of water quizzically, his mind whirring at a thousand thoughts a minute. The puzzle pieces were coming together. No longer did Renji feel like they were just picking up paperwork, or some other mundane task partners are known to do—no, it was something different, this place, the quirky callousness Byakuya had exerted over the last few days all the more quizzical.
I don't even know what this place is called, he realized with a start, though on the outside he was as happy and composed as he had been. The woman handed him a glass, but he didn't even notice it; his heart was hammering that loud. Just what were they doing—
"Renji?"
"Ah—yes?!" His hand, much like a marionette's string cut off, flew up, knocking the glass of water to the ground, the glass shattering everywhere. The woman—receptionist, college student, whatever—gave him a dirty look, the smile from only seconds before most likely a lie. Still, professionally, she got down on her knees and started cleaning up the mess, water seeping into her shoes. She visibly cringed, but kept her composure as all businesswomen should, and placed a delicate little handkerchief on the mess.
Renji felt his face flush with embarrassment. "Ah, I-I'm sorry! Please, let me help you—"
The woman paused, fingers twitching. Renji couldn't see her face. Finally, after a moment, she said, "It's fine." It didn't sound fine at all.
Byakuya touched his shoulder, causing Renji to jump, whirring anxiously to meet his partner. "Y-yes, Kuchiki-taichou?"
There was silence.
Realizing what he'd just said, Renji flushed an even more impressive shade of red, his hands trembling. Byakuya, much to Renji's utter horror and chagrin, looked positively amused—well, as amused as Byakuya could get, anyways. His lips were curled up in a little half smile, though that disappeared just as quickly as it'd appeared. Even so, his eyes held just a twinge of worry.
"Renji, what's—"
"There!" Renji glanced down, startled, as the woman sat back on her heels and rubbed her forehead. Her teeth were clenched. "All done! Now, what can I help you two fine gentlemen with?"
Byakuya looked at Renji, mouth open as though he wanted to say something, before he shook his head and turned towards the woman. "I'm here today because I scheduled an appointment. I would like to speak with Kugo Ginjo, if that's not too much trouble."
"Oh—OH…" The woman's eyes were wide, the gears slowly clicking in her mind. "I-I'm terribly sorry, Kuchiki-sama, but Kugo-san is not in today. He's… out." She sounded strange when she said that, like the words left a bitter taste in her mouth. "But I can relay you to one of our other associates, if you'd like."
Byakuya nodded. "That would be fine, thank you. When could we see him?"
Covertly, the woman glanced down at her watch, her smile broadening. She was probably happy to get the troublesome redhead out of her hair. "Actually, right now." Finally, she decided to stand up, but not before she sent a radiant smile at Byakuya and a pointed glare at Renji. Pressing a small box located right above her desk, she said, "Riruka, if you'd be so kind…"
Something that sounded like unidentifiable buzzing filled the room.
The woman rolled her eyes, perfectly glossed lips open in an annoyed little 'O.' "I'm aware, Riruka. But you're the only one who can do this!..." She paused. "Don't be selfish. If you want to get paid, you'll march your ass—er, yourself right over here this instant!" Her voice had taken on a tone of a mother, disciplining her child; the tone of authority.
The static chatter from moments before ceased, and a loud click filled the area.
"One of our interns will be right with you," she laughed, her hands clasped blithely in front of her. "You can take a seat over there, if you'd like, and as always, we appreciate your support, Kuchiki-sama." Renji cocked an eyebrow—now that was definitely strange. He'd always been aware of Byakuya's finances, hadn't he? If this was a philanthropist excursion, or maybe something relating to the Kuchiki family, he would know about it. Wouldn't he? Hadn't he and Byakuya gotten past this a long time ago—
"Are you Kuchiki-sama?"
Renji looked back at a young girl wearing what looked like a… maid's outfit?—her hair was a surprising shade of red, it's color only amplified by the silky white cap on her head. Her eyes were two swirling pools of magenta and her mouth was set in a tight little line. She regarded Renji deeply, boredom and a hint of impertinence clouding her eyes. Again, she asked, "Kuchiki-sama?"
"Huh?" Renji looked around for a minute, eyes wide, looking for Byakuya. But he was nowhere to be found. "I uh… I'm not exactly…"
"Huh?" The girl's response reminded him of a barking dog, her face scrunched up as though she smelled something awful. "You need to speak up. I can't hear you."
Renji's eyes narrowed, a few choice words lining his tongue in a most obscene fashion, before he sighed, disregarding them. He'd dealt with people like this before. "I said," and he paused, like the smartass that he is, "that I'm not Kuchiki-sama. I'm… his partner."
The girl was silent for a moment.
Is it just me, Renji thought, or does she seem… embarrassed?
"Riruka."
The voice snapped both of them out of their musings. "Y-yes?!" Riruka all but screeched, her cheeks an impressive crimson. "W-what's wrong?"
The woman from before was battling to keep a smile off her face. "You're blushing." It was stated with such certainty that Riruka began sputtering.
"I-I wasn't! I-I just… Oh, never mind! You!" Her finger was only inches from Renji's face. "You're coming with me, okay?! A-and that partner of yours—"
"That would be me, Dokugamine-san."
If it was possible for people to jump out of their skin, her body would've been a husk on the ground, Renji thought bemusedly. Somehow, somewhere, Byakuya had appeared, face set in that impervious way that Renji was familiar with—brow arched, eyes regarding the scene with a disquieted disinterest.
"T-the hell?! Where did you come from—,"
"Language, Dokugamine-san."
Riruka opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something else, but at last, she shut it obediently, cheeks red from embarrassment. With little mortified bow, she nodded at the receptionist before she gestured for the two men to follow, her eyes staring directly at the floor. She looked like some wolf, far from being the alpha in the pack, tail located snuggly between her legs.
"Uh, if you'd follow me... Kuchiki-sama, sir." Renji's eyebrows shot high in the air. So this girl had some manners, huh? To say Renji was surprised was an understatement.
After a few moments of navigating the halls, each person's eyes glued on the strange couple, they'd made it to a door, completely and obviously in a state of disuse. It was immaculately clean, strangely out of place in the pristine building, almost like it hadn't been used in some time. No visible marks or even specks of dust were to be found by wandering eyes—just a plaque, a rich coppery hue, that said, "Tristan Jackie."
Riruka knocked on the door, a scowl on her face. "Oi, Jackie! Open up! We have potentials!"
There was a bit of shuffling behind the door; then, slowly, the door cracked open, showing the tired eyes of a dark-skinned woman. "Riruka, how many times have I had to tell you that you have to be professional? You won't go anywhere in this company if you keep acting like an infant."
Riruka snorted, obviously not intimidated. "Boo hoo. Like I'd even want to go anywhere in this shitty company anyways!" But then, her eyes took on a worried light, face scrunched up. "B-besides, it's not like this is the best job I've had or anything…"
Jackie sighed. "What are you going on about?" Glancing at Byakuya and Renji, she said, "Please excuse her. Dokugamine-san was just leaving."
Riruka opened her mouth, almost as if to protest, before she imperceptibly nodded. "Y-yes." She bowed a little. "If you'll excuse me…"
And then she was gone, her presence—or lack thereof—leaving a very bitter hole in the awkwardness of the trio— more specifically, Renji. Because, loathe as he was to admit it, her rudeness had entertained him, allowing him to keep his mind off the issue at hand.
But now…
Now, it was back to the forefront of his brain, like an unwanted mosquito, prickling about for veins of blood. He couldn't ignore it. The question was nagging him.
What is this place?
Jackie's voice snapped him out of his little reverie. "I'm terribly sorry about her. She sometimes… well, it's not really my business to talk about it, but she's one of Kugo-san's adopted children. He wants them to learn the trade so he can pass it on and 'keep it in the family,' so to speak." She smiled, though it was bitter, a little foolhardy. "Thing is, neither she nor her brother want it. It's such a shame, really. Anyway," the subject was changed so quickly that Renji was sure he had whiplash, "how can I help you two fine gentlemen today? And please, come in, come in."
Byakuya nodded, grabbing Renji by the hand, his own smooth and silky fingers squeezing in a vice-grip. Renji stuttered, indignant; didn't Byakuya know they were out in public?! What if someone saw? What if Jackie did? After all, Japanese people weren't exactly known for their warm, fuzzy, accepting personalities.
But luckily, Jackie didn't seem to be paying attention. With a muttered, "You can take the leather seats," she began making tea while the two men sat down, her back towards them. He heard the splashing of water, plus a muttered curse, before two steaming cups of tea was placed directly in front of them.
"Thank you," Renji said quietly, his nerves getting the best of him. When he looked at her, she didn't look like any business associates he'd dealt with before. First and foremost, her skin was a deep caramel, bordering on black—definitely not Japanese. And her hair was a deep mahogany, reaching just barely to her chin, a chic bob in the ways of Western European style bringing out the black in her eyes.
"Now," Renji hadn't realized, but she was sitting directly across from them, her posture both relaxed and rigid. And Byakuya still hadn't let go of his damn hand! "What can I help you with today?"
Byakuya's fingers dug almost painfully into his own. "I was making an inquiry as to whether or not my… proposal would be acceptable."
Jackie hummed, her fingers brushing through a large manila folder. "Is this in regards to that child?"
"Yes." His voice was curt, though there was a hint of something else in it, something Renji had never heard. "Do you know how long it would take…?"
Jackie frowned and glanced up at Byakuya. "Kuchiki-san… your credentials are impressive, I'll give you that. I'm sure it isn't easy being the head of a multimillion company at such a young age." She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "But… well, I'm sure you understand Japanese custom." She gestured to them. "Many believe that this isn't natural."
Renji's head was spinning. What was she talking about? 'Japanese custom?' What the hell did that mean? Or, even more pressing, 'This isn't natural'? What isn't natural? A young man owning a company at such an impressive age? Byakuya and Renji?
Byakuya and Renji…
Oh my God, she knows, Renji thought suddenly, panic clear in his eyes. She knew! She knew they were a couple, dating, and could probably infer what they were doing behind closed doors—
While Renji's inner monologue was going on, Byakuya said, "In Japan, yes. But I've heard of influential people in our situation adopting children in America." Byakuya shook his head. "I understand it isn't common for two Japanese men to do it, but—,"
Byakuya's voice drowned out, two words ringing ostentatiously in Renji's ears. Adopting children. Adopting children. Adopting children, adopting children…. adopting children—
"WHAT?!" Somehow it all made sense. The strange company Renji had never heard of, the odd glances all the employees were sending his way, Byakuya's strange and almost clingy behavior… "You mean that we're… we're…"
Jackie glanced up, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. To Byakuya, she said, "I take it you haven't told him, then?"
He grunted. "I wanted it to be a surprise."
Renji fell back into his chair, completely shell-shocked. Byakuya… he wanted to adopt kids? H-he wanted… to have a son or a… a daughter…?
Renji groaned, putting his face in his hands. "Oh my God, oh my God…" and he continued saying this, almost rocking back and forth on the leather seat.
Byakuya gave him a slight frown, but shook his head, turning back towards Jackie. "Anyway… about our inquiry into adopting a child—"
"Wait wait wait! Byakuya… this isn't some cruel joke, is it? I-I mean… what the hell? You wanna adopt?" Dropping his voice to a whisper, Renji said, "Couldn't we have discussed this before coming here? A child… Byakuya, that's a lot of responsibility—"
"I'm well aware."
Renji glared at him. "Well, then, what makes you think we can take care of him? Her? It? I know you have money but… we're not even married, Byakuya! And, and…" His mind was grasping for straws as to why this was such a bad idea. Unfortunately, he found none. "Well, you know…!"
Byakuya opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and turned towards Jackie, his eyes so much like the entrepreneur who could send grown men into tears. "Tristan-san, could you excuse us for a second? I have to take with my… partner."
Jackie nodded, her eyes alive with mirth. "Please, take your time, Kuchiki-san." Winking at Renji, she said, "We wouldn't want him to have a heart attack now, would we?"
Byakuya nodded, grabbing Renji by his upper arm. "Thank you. It will only take a minute." And they were out, again in the cold dredges of the world, a respectable distance between the two. They were, after all, simply business partners.
"Renji…" Byakuya apparently hadn't got that memo and brushed a stray strand of hair from Renji's face. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier about this."
Renji blushed, not used to hearing such a gentle tone from the ingenious tycoon. "I-I'm sorry too. It's just so much to take in right now and I… and I…" He took a deep, shuddering breath, Byakuya's fingers playing on his temples. He leaned into that hand, staring heatedly into those obsidian eyes. "Byakuya… don't you think this is a little sudden? I mean, what do either of us know about raising a child?"
Byakuya paused his ministrations, his brow furrowed. "I'll acquiesce," he said at last, continuing rubbing Renji's scalp, "that frankly, I know very little about raising a child." Renji could tell he hated admitting it and he smiled softly. "But Renji…" His voice was a husky whisper, barely above a breath. "What if I told you I wanted to stay with you forever…?"
Thousands of thoughts ran through Renji's head at the moment. Despite that, he settled for, "H-huh? W-what do you mean, Byakuya—"
And then Byakuya kissed him, his lips soft, like wild honeysuckle in the countryside. There was no tongue, no urgency to the kiss—just a soft brush of lips, chaste and so very sweet. Renji sighed into the kiss, pulling Byakuya closer to him, to which he received a bemused chuckle.
"Renji…" The deep purr of his baritone sent tremors down Renji's spine. "As much as I enjoy doing this, it seems we've procured an audience."
At first, the words didn't register in Renji's mind. But then, slowly, he heard a shocked gasp, followed by the embarrassed stutter of the one and only Dokugamine Riruka.
"A-ah… I didn't see anything! I swear! I swear on my life!" She was apologizing repeatedly, her hands floundering in front of her, like a fish on the haul of a boat. "I-I just was, uh… coming to see if you needed any tea! Yeah! S-something like that!" Her face was bright red, even rivaling her hair. "I-it's not like I was curious about your relationship or anything…!"
Renji couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.
XXX
"I take it you brought him up to speed, then, Kuchiki-san?"
"Ah, yes." Byakuya gave an unreadable glance at Renji, face neutral. "Abarai-san here understands perfectly well, thank you." He turned back towards Jackie, professional businessman back like a breeze. "Now, about the stipulations…"
She sighed, her fingers clicking against the wooden desk, her lips drawn in a frown. "The stipulations… well, frankly, it's not a bad idea. The United States has made huge steps towards marriage equality lately, so I don't think it's impossible for you to adopt from there." She brushed her hair out of her face, her eyes staring intently at a mug on her desk. "It's still a risky proposition though, Kuchiki-san. It's very rare to hear of a couple adopting from the United States, even with the outstanding credentials you possess. Over here in the East, but especially in places like China, you tend to hear horrific stories about newborn babies thrown into trash cans and teenagers joining gangs and the like." Her eyes were sad as she said, "It's not exactly a kind world for unwanted babies."
"I understand entirely. But, if I'm—we're—able to give a child a good home in this cruel world, why should it matter if we're lovers or not?" Byakuya stared at her eyes, trying to find an answer. "Well?"
"…It's true that helping orphaned children find homes in the world is one of our biggest concerns, but…" She bit her lower lip, thinking. "Well, not to be rude, Kuchiki-san, but how do you plan to help your child as a parent? From what I understand, you're away on business a lot, aren't you?" Her eyes were hard, filled with an inner light Renji didn't know she possessed. "Frankly that isn't exactly a suitable environment for a child, regardless of your sexual preferences. I guess what I'm trying to say is…" She steeped her fingers, looked Byakuya square in the eye. "Why do you want to adopt, Kuchiki-san?"
Renji's ears perked up, his curiosity overweighing his anxiousness. Why did Byakuya want to adopt? He gave some half-assed answer out in the hall, but now that Renji thought about it, he'd almost completely circumnavigated the question.
What's your answer, Byakuya?
Said man paused, his brain whirring, the gears clicking into place. Grasping Renji's hand, he said, "Because… I want to make a family with this man." He held Renji's hand up, his face dead serious. "Isn't that reason enough to have a family?"
"I understand what you're saying, Kuchiki-san, but—"
"I don't think you do." Byakuya's voice was cold, his tone commanding. "You've repeatedly mentioned that our company is quite a success despite my young age. As such, it isn't impossible for me to work entirely out of Japan. And secondly, this isn't up for discussion. If you don't want to help us adopt because of our predicament, then fine. I'll simply find someone else who will."
Byakuya stood up, to which Renji followed clumsily. "We'll be taking our leave now—"
"W-wait, Kuchiki-san, please don't be hasty." Jackie sounded defeated, like a dog kicked by its drunken owner. "What if… what if I told you we could help you adopt?"
Byakuya stopped, his hand hovering inches from the door. "And how to plan to do that? You've made it very clear that we should pursue other interests." His voice held a tinge of disgust. "Well?"
Jackie cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable. "W-well… we could send in a good word to the agencies in America. They would undoubtedly allow you to adopt right away."
Byakuya's hand had retracted slightly from the door. "What's the catch?"
"Catch? I wouldn't exactly call it that…" She laughed slightly. "Basically, all you would have to do is go through a comprehensive screening process from our agency. It works like this." From seemingly out of nowhere, she brought out a diagram. "We'll send one of our reps on an undisclosed date to your house. Once there, the rep will be responsible for not only judging whether you two would make fine parents, but also if the house, work, and education opportunities are sufficiently high for the child. They would do extensive background checks on everyone in the family, including distant relatives and those who have passed away. After that, it'll be another two or three months before we can complete the analysis of our findings. If you receive a high score from the rep who visits your home, then we will send the request to America right away. Then it's simply a waiting game." She frowned a little. "I get that it doesn't sound hard, but please be aware that we take all interests into adoption very seriously. This will not be some easy test where you can get by being 'good enough.' You'll have to be the best in order to have even an inkling of a chance to adopt a child—you can't half-ass this."
Slowly, like the hour hand on a clock, Byakuya turned around, his face unreadable. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. Be prepared though; I won't lose this battle, Tristan-san."
Though Jackie's face was completely blank, Renji could see the bemusement dancing in her eyes. "I wouldn't think otherwise, Kuchiki-san. But please remember…" Her tone grew grave as she said this, like a ninja giving away national secrets to an enemy country. "If even one member of your family makes a mistake, your chances of adopting will reach nihility." She smiled. "Is that acceptable, Kuchiki-san?"
"Of course." Byakuya's look lingered on Renji's face for just a moment. "That would be perfect."
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