08 Inner World

All shinigami have an inner world. It had been a long time since Byakuya Kuchiki had seen his. It had been a long time since he had spoken to his zanpakutō or since it had deemed to speak with him.

The whisper of a thousand voices. "Byakuya…" His name sounded airy – as if it had been carried away on some stray wind. It sounded like each syllable of his name had scattered into the darkness of his world the moment it was uttered. He knew the voice that called him well, and if there had been any doubts in his mind they were quickly dispelled the moment he felt the cool chill of petals caress his skin.

'Senbonzakura.'

He felt a sinking sensation in his chest when he examined the area. The scenery was decidedly dark and tenebrous. Too dark, he mused to himself. His inner world had changed dramatically. The sky above had never been black; it had always been a bright cloudless blue. Utterly perplexed, Byakuya lifted his gaze upward. The stars and moon above him were silvery, yet they did not emit any radiance nor afford him any light. Instead, the moon and stars appeared to have painted on that dark firmament.

"Byakuya," sang the legion of soft airy voices. Then came the scent of blossoms, engulfing his senses until he could almost taste the sweet fragrance. Becoming increasingly annoyed by this "game," Byakuya narrowed his eyes as he tried to locate his zanpakutō. But, his attempt was in vain. He could not tell from where his name had sounded. The endeavor, he realized, was nigh impossible considering the capricious nature of Senbonzakura.

"Senbonzakura," he muttered in the strictest tone he could manage. His attempt, he was sure, failed. The darkness swirling around him was oppressive. Even if his zanpakutō hadn't been as obstinate as himself, he was sure that his command had been thwarted by the intense shade.

"Why so dark?" it called out.

Now, he could feel Senbonzakura swirling about him. Its words felt palpable on his skin, in his ears, and against his robes. But, it took him a moment to process what the zanpakutō had said. There was a certain discord in its voices for they did not all sound in unison. To his ears, Senbonzakura rather sounded like a harmony of cacophony.

"Why so dark?" he echoed the words pensively to himself. His brow fell as did his gaze and he thought the meaning over.

'Is it implying that I am the one who…'

Byakuya turned to glance behind him. Slowly but surely his eyes were beginning to adapt to the darkness of his surroundings. Now, he could make out the rows of sakura that occupied his inner world.

"You look surprised!" Senbonzakura's many voices gradually began to synchronize, but its words still overlapped.

Byakuya spun around just in time to catch the capricious petals. The moment his eyes glimpsed the cluster of swirling blossoms, Senbonzakura amalgamated and took on a human form. Senbonzakura stood a few inches shorter than Byakuya, and was composed of a thousand softly glowing petals.

"Why am I here?" Byakuya muttered impassively.

Senbonzakura released a breezy chuckle and a few petals which swirled around his head. "How am I to know if you don't?" it replied irreverently. "I am only a piece of you – not your entirety." As it finished, Senbonzakura poignantly freed several more of its petals.

Byakuya was not particularly fond of what Senbonzakura was alluding to…

"See how grim my world has become?" Senbonzakura began rather unceremoniously. "It has been darkening, darkening. Dark, dark, dark. An eternal springtime is rather useless at night."

Byakuya arched a brow and gave Senbonzakura an unsympathetic look.

"So apathetic," it observed aloud. "And, look where that has gotten us! Have you any pleasures left?" Once more, Senbonzakura released more blossoms as it spoke. The velvety petals circled its wielder – gently brushing his ears and catching in his hair.

Byakuya, however, remained reticent on the matter; although, if truth be told hehonestly did not know how to respond.

"Look at yourself – so rigid, so stoic. What could you possibly be hiding? Hiding? Hiding from yourself for if you remember I am a piece - a mere petal, if you will - of your soul." The voices were beginning to sound discordant once more – their words slurred together until they were bleeding into one another.

There, Senbonzakura had finally said it. It had finally completed its allusion to petals. Byakuya clenched his jaws as he watched Senbonzakura's human form slowly begin to disintegrate. Like petals dropped from a basket to be dispersed on the wind, Senbonzakura took the form of a flowery blob and engulfed him. It should have been a pleasant feeling. The velvety flower blossoms against his skin should have felt welcoming. This, however, was not so. Byakuya's skin chilled and grew irritated by the constant fluttering sensation.

"You never answered my question." Its disembodied voices hissed sensuously into his ears.

"Which question?" he murmured indifferently.

"Pleasure," it purred in a collective whisper.

"What does that matter to you?" he spat, flinging an arm into the wall of petals. His efforts, however, were futile. As soon as he swatted a clearing to walk through, the ever moving whorl of petals mended the hole before he could escape.

"It matters because you seem to be losing your resolve," Senbonzakura's voices became sharp and clear at the end of the statement.

Byakuya froze. A chilly flood of sensation ran down his spine, and his heart skipped a beat. Senbonzakura had finally called him out, and he was struck dumbfounded. Had he been losing it? Inch by inch, yard by yard, until what happened today? Ah, yes, now he remembered the day's events. Too clearly did his mind draw up a mental picture of the past. His squad had been down to the World of the Living to perform a menial task, but something unexpected had happened. They had fallen prey to a trap – a very clever trap – one that was far too sophisticated for any ordinary hollow. He had moved to the front to defend his subordinates when he had ascertained that things had gotten out of hand. The attack really was nothing, he remembered. The hollows hadn't been particularly troublesome for a shinigami of his rank, but…

"Your resolve faltered." Senbonzakura's words brought him crashing back to "reality".

Byakuya scanned his surroundings. There was no sign of Senbonzakura or its soft effulgence. No, now his vision was blinded by darkness. No susurrus could be detected. In fact, his inner would became deathly silent. Dead – everything felt dead and drowned – like he had plunged into the depths of an inky ocean.

'This must be what it feels like to be in oblivion,' he thought wearily to himself. 'This must be what it feels likewhen one first dies…' He blinked and fixated on the latter thought. He, of course, had no memory of being plunged into the transitional world of the dead after departing the World of the Living. He had been too young to recall those events. To him, he had always been "dead" and residing in Soul Society. At the thought of death, he felt his heart pang a cold pang in his chest. No, he did not fear his own death for he knew what was to come. However, he did fear another's departure… On some level, he supposed, we all fear an aspect of death. For him, although he would be loath to admit it even to himself, he did despise being left behind. He had been left behind while others whom he knew and respected had died before, and he supposed he would endure yet another loss…

Byakuya glanced down at his hand, which he could just barely make out only a few inches in front of him. He repressed the urge to smile grimly at the observation that his zanpakutō took the form of cherry blossoms. Cherry blossoms were known and perhaps even cherished because of their short lives. They were never around long enough for one to truly tire of them, and yet when they left there was a sense of mourning. Everyone, even children, understood this cycle of the life and death of the cherry blossom. And in a small part, the transitory and ephemeral nature of the cherry blossom paralleled the cycle of life and death of all souls.

Stepping forward a few paces, Byakuya glanced up to find that if possible his world had darkened. "What?" he wondered aloud, turning his head to find that he could no longer make out the dim shapes of the sakura nearby.

"Your resolve is weakening," Senbonzakura noted, swirling up towards him. "Have you found any pleasure in all of this?"

Byakuya eyed Senbonzakura with an unrelenting gaze. "I do not understand your meaning," he responded in a listless monotone.

"Come now, I cannot be the only color in your in life," it chimed in an airy whine. Senbonzakura's glittering petals illuminated the area around him in a pale pink sheen.

He remained rigidly stoic. "I have pleasure." At this he felt the air chill and the wind pick up, almost as if Senbonzakura was mocking him.

"Really? What pleasure do you take for yourself?"

He furrowed his brow. "I fail to comprehend the signif-"

"Answer." Senbonzakura retaliated by turning one of its deadly petals on Byakuya, gently nicking his cheek.

Byakuya's eyes widened the moment he felt the metal skid across his face. Immediately, his left hand shot up to feel the damage while his right hand gripped for the hilt of his zanpakutō. The hilt of his sword, however, crumbled on receiving his touch.

"No," Senbonzakura hissed playfully. "This isn't about that. That is nearing mastery; this is far from it."

He blinked at the insinuation. "I enjoy my nightly walks," he snorted indignantly. On hearing his response, Senbonzakura's petals swooshed together, mimicking laughter.

"Walking? Is that all you come up with? You call a nightly stroll a pleasure? Are you sure it's not just your own compulsion to not stay idle after your evening meal. Or worse, it is an activity in which you engage to clear your mind while you are contemplating a problem. You call that a pleasure?"

Byakuya cocked his head to the side to shoot Senbonzakura a scathing stare. It, however, did not seem in the least deterred from its line of questioning. "Go on," it urged.

He folded his arms defiantly across his chest. "I take pleasure in spicy foods."

Again, his response garnered the same "whooshing" mimicry of laughter as the last answer had.

"What's wrong with that?"

"You call eating in moderation a pleasure?"

"No," he stated.

"Oh, yes, you enjoy spicy food when you do eat. I don't think that's much of a pleasure as it is a preference. You abhor sweets, so you eat hot foods. This sounds more like a wise nutritional choice than anything else. Especially, when one considers the advantages of spices when it comes to metabolism, alertness, brain functioning, and overall health."

Byakuya sharpened his gaze in response.

"Try again," Senbonzakura implored, ignoring its wielder's dark look.

"I take pleasure in calligraphy and reading," he replied threateningly.

Once more Senbonzakura laughed. This time, however, Byakuya wasn't sure if his spirit guide was laughing at his reply or if it was laughing at the menacing manner in which he delivered the response.

"You only took up calligraphy because your father told you it would help you improve your swordplay. As for reading, when you're not reading material relating to your many obligations, you're reading books on strategy."

"Perhaps I enjoy reading books on strategy."

"And, perhaps you read those types of books because you think those are the types of books you should read as a captain…"

"Is there a …" Byakuya began but was quickly interrupted.

"Try once more," Senbonzakura commanded, knowing full and well that its wielder hated being commanded to do anything.

Almost against his will, Byakuya's lips parted and he uttered a soft, "Hisana." His breath sharply caught in his chest, and his lips quickly smacked shut before he could get out all of the syllables. It was too late. His answer had been detected by Senbonzakura. He prepared for the inevitable laughter that was to follow, but stiffened the moment he realized his expectation was unwarranted.

Senbonzakura stopped its intense fluttering and reverted to its humanoid form. "Pleasure…" the voices uttered in a low susurrus. The moment the word sounded, Senbonzakura burst into a thousand blossoms and dispelled on an invisible wind.

Byakuya, still on guard, glanced over the area. The sky was brightening, at least. Now, it looked like a sky at the very early strokes of dawn. Streaks of red, sienna, and purple colored the horizon. But, Byakuya could not deny the uneasiness hefelt in his stomach. Senbonzakura's lesson had yet to be learned.

Byakuya's eyes lifted to view the now clearly visible rows of sakura to the right and left of him. The trees were in full bloom. He fixed his gaze on the trees while waiting for the inevitable. The air had become sharp and chilly, and the trees swayed and shook. They truly were remarkable, he noted to himself. There were sakura of every kind – but it was the weeping cherry tree that shook the most violently the moment the wind picked up. Byakuya could feel the air pressure begin to rise. Building his resolve, he shut his eyes and inhaled a deep breath before being assaulted by the swarm of petals that were quick to engulf him.

He had been completely swallowed whole by not only petals but voices. Hateful, angry voices, which spoke words, phrases, and sentiments that he had heard far too often.

'She is not good enough.'

'She will ruin us.'

The words, the thoughts, and the paralyzing realization that they existed in his heart stayed him and weighed him down. It was all absurd – those accusations, he told himself. Yet, he could not deny the fact that he had given them all consideration at one time or another. He had done all he could to convince his family and their affiliates that she was "good enough" and that she wouldn't "ruin them"… or had he been the one he was really trying to convince? Byakuya shook his head and the thought away. It no longer mattered, for now he was very much of the opposite opinion.

'She is weak.'

'She is a burden.'

He stiffened at these allegations. Had he considered her weak? Wasn't she, though? Part of understanding another was also assessing their flaws. And, yes, while she was weak in physicality, he did not think her weak in spirit nor mien. As for burdensome, that had been her own worry bleeding now into his. He had always reassured her that she was never a burden, hadn't he? Had he believed it?

'She cannot possibly give us an heir.'

'She only married you for your money... she does not love you.'

He stood transfixed the moment he heard these sentiments being chanted around him in harsh dissonant voices. An heir would be preferable, but that was never one of the reasons he married her. No, that concern had always spewed from the mouths ofhis family. It was the latter accusation that stayed both his heart and mind.

"She only married you for your money. She does not love you." He had heard those phrases countless times from countless family members and social relations (mostly of the female variety). He had to admit that he had given considerable consideration to this. He had wondered if she had only married him for his wealth and power. He, however, was convinced otherwise…. But yet…

'She's near death… and then she'll leave you forever…'

His body froze cold. Of all the ugly words assaulting him with the sharpness of steel, this was by far the sharpest… He had already lost so many…

Finding his resolve in the torment, he opened his eyes. The whorl of petals immediately fell to the ground – limp and defeated. They remained static on the ground for a few moments before fluttering upwards to reform the humanoid Senbonzakura.

"Very good," its voices rang as it lightly drew forward.

Byakuya watched quietly. He did not appear entirely triumphant in the matter. In fact, if truth be told he rather looked like he had been run over by a buggy and dragged a few furlongs.

"It seems you have regained your resolution."

Whiteness.

Tired, heavy eyelids fluttered open. A blinding whiteness came flooding into his mind, then came the all too familiar smell of disinfectant and chemicals. Blinking through the groggy cloud that had settled over his thoughts, Byakuya glanced up to confirm his surroundings.

'Infirmary,' he sighed.

Then, a soft lilting hum washed over him. He reopened his tired eyes and followed the trail of sound. "Hisana," he murmured.

She was seated at his bedside. One of her hands was resting on his, while the other was holding a few sheets of paper. She stirred upon hearing her name. "You're awake," she said, smiling. She instantly perked up in her chair and squeezed his hand. "How are you feeling?"

He managed a small smile as he blinked back his tiredness.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, drawing nearer. She gently brushed back a few strands of hair from his face, and felt for his temperature. "Your color is returning," she observed soothingly. She had just parted her lips to speak once more, but was quickly silenced by a feverish kiss.


A/N

Ah, my very rough and loose interpretation of Byakuya's inner world.

Hope you liked!