The Kuchiki Manor was never welcoming, Kira Izuru realized for the third time when he passed through the heavy gates. He had heard before the Kuchiki-taichou's family had always held protocol and tradition as the most important pillars of society, but to see how that belief transmuted into daily life disturbed Kira.
Servants were unheard, unseen, unconsidered; the few he had glimpsed always hurried away from sight, as if being witnessed doing their duty was somehow abhorrent. The blond understood that being discreet and modest were good traits to have in serving; being invisible made no sense.
Still, he didn't have to endure this everyday. Kuchiki-taichou, on the other hand, had to. Kira felt a fleeting sense of sympathy for the captain: somewhere, thankfully, there had to have been a small measure of warmth in the captain's life, or he wouldn't have been able to love the lady Hisana nor found the compassion to take in Rukia, or to accept Renji as a brother.
The captain was nowhere to be seen today in the room designated for their data analysis. Kira shrugged philosophically. Pulling off his footwear so as not to soil the pristine interior of the room, he got to work mapping every incident that occurred in the past twenty days.
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Byakuya read through the documents his current fourth seat had prepared. She had applied for lieutenant position – apparently thinking that six years in Byakuya's service was enough reason to dare consider it – and Byakuya was assessing her suitability. Certainly she knew her stuff; the tables were well-planned, the roster laid out impeccably, and the training budgets balanced to the cent.
However, Byakuya felt uneasy assigning her the role.
With a sigh he put away the file, deciding to make the decision at the end of the week. He hated having to replace Abarai Renji, now that he could admit it without the chance of the redhead ever knowing it. Renji balanced Byakuya out. The passion and determination that drove Renji tempered the chilly calculation and precise ruthlessness that marked Byakuya's character.
This fourth seat was not going to make it. She had survived six years in his employ, but never stood out in any way. She would constantly be in his shadow, trying to anticipate his orders instead of developing a mind of her own, trying to be Byakuya.
Though he would never admit it, Byakuya liked seeing some defiance in his people. When he pushed them, he wanted to see them resist, to have them stand their ground. He would not tolerate them shoving back, of course, which was why he had been so furious when Renji tried to rescue Rukia even after he had been given specific orders. However, with the years between the incident and now, the captain could acknowledge that the then-lieutenant was just displaying the defiance that helped him rise up the ranks.
Byakuya needed someone with fire in their veins, because he knew he was a creature of ice. Hitsugaya was no match to him. If Rukia had been executed that day, Byakuya knew – he knew, completely – that he would have stood by and watched. Expressionless. Emotionless.
He wouldn't even have grieved for his adopted sister.
Not in front of the others, not where it could be witnessed. Deep within, where there was no ice, there might be sorrow, but no more than that.
Perhaps, in many people's eyes, Byakuya was a good man. But the Kuchiki noble knew himself far better, and he knew that, deep down, he was not.
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"Good afternoon sir. Your meal has been prepared. We have sent another to Kira-fukutaichou in the research room." The housekeeper bowed low.
Byakuya pulled off his captain's coat and handed it over. "How long has he been here?"
"Since this morning, sir."
"You are dismissed to your duties," said the noble. "I will have my meal with Kira-san."
He made his way to the room soundlessly. The door was ajar, and a low trestle had been set up in a corner with a tray of food. Kira Izuru sat with his back to the door, papers open all about him and a huge map tacked to one wall.
That was not the condition in which Byakuya left the room.
"I apologize for redecorating your wall, Kuchiki-taichou," Kira said without turning around, "but I needed a larger picture to see the pattern more clearly."
Byakuya walked over the the map. "There is a pattern already."
"Not until I color-coded them," said Kira with a respectful nod. He pasted yet another small colored disc on the map. "This isn't the latest layout of Hueco Mundo, but with Las Noches as the reference I think it's clear what the hollows are up to."
The dark-haired captain studied the map and smiled thinly. "They're fleeing Las Noches."
"They're heading outwards, to the edges," Kira concurred. "We know that Halibel had a stranglehold on power after Aizen and Ichimaru left. But this – exodus – is recent. I think there is a new power rising inside Las Noches, and these are afraid of being eaten."
"If anything I believe it's a power struggle," countered Byakuya. "The Espada Halibel wouldn't have gone down without a fight that easily. To power up further, without any external aid, would require ingesting and absorbing large numbers of their kind. If there is a power struggle, that would explain this groups heading inwards."
"Hm."
That noncommittal sound from the blond lieutenant drew Byakuya's attention.
"You do not agree," Byakuya stated.
Kira smiled without much humor. "I think that Halibel is long dead. Whatever hollow had set up base inside is using Las Noches as a fortress. Those headed there are probably the opportunistic or the dumb ones, thinking to serve a king again."
Byakuya looked at the map once more. "We won't know for sure until the ruins of Las Noches is explored again."
"In any case," said Kira, "the fleeing hollows probably attacked the shinigami out of blind panic. It's certainly not to spark off yet another war – even hollows had to have better memories than a goldfish, and the recent demise of their rulers would be news even for Hueco Mundo."
The Kuchiki noble said nothing, but he was a little surprised that Kira mentioned the traitors on his own. All the rumors of Kira being 'broken' after Ichimaru Gin were patently false; Kira Izuru wasn't a broken man. But maybe he was being presumptuous in analyzing the lieutenant – he was never close to Kira, what with Ichimaru on guard – yes, that was the attitude: Ichimaru was always on guard whenever Kira started to get close to others – and Byakuya's personal belief in never interfering.
They discussed other possible scenarios for the rest of the afternoon. The blond male noted down everything and sent the information to the First Division for Ukitake's perusal, and politely declined the noble's invitation for dinner.
"I am meeting Hinamori-san and Hitsugaya-taichou, Kuchiki-san," he said at the door. "Perhaps you might wish to join us instead?"
Byakuya hesitated before shaking his head ruefully. "It would be rude. I would like to join in the next time though; Hitsugaya-taichou's company is quite restful." He didn't continue with the rest of his statement, unlike certain captains like, for instance, yours, but Kira chuckled as if he heard the remainder of Byakuya's thoughts.
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Hinamori was as quiet as ever, though there was more life in her gaze and she responded with quick, fleeting smiles. It was difficult prattling on by yourself, though Kira did his best, sharing interesting anecdotes about Isshin's exploits. Hitsugaya hardly spoke himself, though now and then he chipped in with stories about Matsumoto or Karin. Both men avoided the issue of Hueco Mundo with unspoken consent; Hinamori's memories were easily invoked, and she was still completely devoted to her treacherous former captain.
After the strained meal, Hitsugaya and Kira strolled back to the officers barracks. The white-haired captain said, "Thank you for coming today. Matsumoto was not up to traveling and I wouldn't have been able to handle it myself."
That was probably as close to rousing cheers and a garland of appreciation from the young captain as was possible. Kira bowed and smiled. "Hinamori is my friend. It's not a chore to visit."
"I will see you again then." The captain turned down the path that would lead to the tenth division.
"Uh, Hitsugaya-taichou, please wait." Kira cleared his throat; Hitsugaya could be touchy when it came to Hinamori. "Would it be all right if I invited other shinigami to come along another time? For her to see other familiar faces?"
"Who do you have in mind?"
"Renji and Shuuhei, and, um, Kuchiki-taichou as well."
Hitsugaya paused. Then he nodded curtly. "Only those, and no more."
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Shinigami or not, Kira was apprehensive of the dark now.
He had never really liked being surrounded by the darkness. Anything could come out of it, and being a shinigami, Kira had been attacked far too often by monstrous things with claws and fangs in the black of night for his comfort.
These days though, the fear of what might leap out in darkness was overpowered by the reluctance to be surrounded by what thoughts could be dragged to the forefront of the mind.
When there was no work, when there were no friends to be concerned about, when he was alone... memories crawled forth and swamped him with heartache. Even now, even now, he could recall with perfect clarity the way Gin looked resting against a window, the only illumination from flashes of lightning scrawling across black storm clouds.
His embrace, his smile... Kira closed his eyes and pushed away the thoughts. He brushed his teeth, brushed his hair and stepped into his tiny shower. The water was icy cold and jolted him back from the brink of sleep.
Kira wished he had something to do, anything instead of lying in bed waiting for exhaustion to claim him.
As he dried his hair at his low table, his eyes scanned the bookshelves near him. Maybe there was a book he could read...
A journal.
He gave one to Shuuhei a long time ago; Shuuhei was still using it, having replaced the papers of course, but the leather cover was the same, along with its repository for ink and a slender brush, now a fountain pen in its place.
This one was his own, a matching one that he had never shown to anyone. It had been a long time since he found it in his heart to write. What could he write? In fact, he couldn't recall the last time he cracked the leather cover open.
You've left.
The words seared into Kira the moment he opened to the marked page. Unwillingly, his eyes trailed the words scribbled by an unsteady hand. He had to have been drunk to have written that untidily and with that much swearing.
You've left.
You've warned me before, that you'd trample on my trust, my respect. I thought you hadn't been serious.
Fuck you. You were serious all along. That smile was a mask, wasn't it? You fooled me, fooled everyone with a smile.
And yet you have been completely honest. You still follow your captain, still love him. Still love him, the way you've shown me every single fucking day. Damn it, dammit. Dammit.
I'm dying here, I think. I die, inch by inch. Pain blooms inside. You planted it. You planted it and watered it with sweet words and praise and goddamn lovemaking, you planted it and groomed me to yearn for you. And you rip my heart from me.
Fuck you. I hate you. I hate – I love you. I love you, and you've left.
Renji warned me. Shuuhei warned me. Hell, I warned myself. But like a fool, I fell in love with you. I fell in fucking love, and I told you I did.
My world spins. I think that's because I'm drunk. But you were – are – the center of my world, so yeah, center gone, hence the spinning. Like a top.
Everything reminds me of you. A cut. A sheet of paper. The damn budget increment request form. The fucking walls remind me of you. Even grass.
You were every part, part of everything in my life. I relied on you and now, I fall. There's no support. Everyone is so damn kind, like I'm about to break. Like I'm nothing without you.
Yeah, I am. So what? I don't need their pity. Don't need their sympathy.
Need you. I need you.
Why were you nice to me, Gin? If you had been horrible, if I had been abused or tortured as everyone seemed to think you did, then maybe I can forget all this pain. I can enjoy the lack of you. I wish I can enjoy this empty space, this... this space. Space which I don't fucking need.
I can't feel you now. Not in anything I do. In everything I do I feel the lack of you.
You bastard. I hope you burn in hell.
I wanna be with you.
The very last stroke of the word had been dragged out and there was a smear of ink on the facing page; Kira supposed he had slammed the journal shut and jammed it into the bookshelf after that ramble.
He turned out the lights as he felt the stirrings of bittersweet memories swell within him. I did not break then, I will not break now.
The difference of then and now, of Gin being elsewhere but alive and of Gin being dead and entirely unreachable, was forced down, clamped shut, discarded. Kira closed his eyes and made his way to the bed by feel.
The lack beside him was ignored. The gaping emptiness within was ignored. The tears were ignored, and left to roll down cheeks and absorbed into his pillow.
He would not break.
Tomorrow he had more things to do.
He would not break. Not for one who would never know, even if he would care.