Compression, Chapter 14

:*:*:

Brushing off the winter chill clinging to his coat, Byakuya stepped silently through the foyer and dark hall leading to the dining room.

There Kuchiki Rukia sat, a studious figure surrounded by weighty tomes and stacks of stuffed binders. Her eyes scanned the page before her, rendered wider and more wondrous by the magnification of thick glasses. A floorboard creaked beneath his stocking feet and Rukia looked up, blinking owl-like in surprise.

"Nii-sama!" The girl exclaimed sotto voce, slipping off the coke-bottle lenses as if expecting him to disappear.

"Rukia."

The detective stood still, watching as his adopted sister glanced at the clock, then at him, in silent inquiry. One sleek eyebrow inched upward, reflecting the question without a word.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted with a smile, "so I figured the all-nighter would be more comfortable at home."

Home.

Byakuya inclined his head, privately gratified. Were it not for you, this building would simply be a museum as Renji claims…

The stoic man bowed further as his lips curved upwards without permission; it was a relief to think of the redhead, if only for a moment, without a pang of guilt.

"I see," the inspector covered as he pulled out a chair. "Surely you have already studied sufficiently for your examination?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rukia blushed faintly, tucking a bookmark into the text as she shut it. "It can't hurt to give it another look. I really enjoy this class, so I don't mind reviewing the syllabus again."

"Forensic psychology?" Byakuya guessed, satisfied to see her smile brighten.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded conspiringly, leaning in. "I hate to admit it, but the sheer variety of all the things that affect the human mind just fascinates me."

"That is nothing to be ashamed of," the captain declared drolly, eyeing the teapot off to the side. "Some misguided souls earn a living by delving into the depths of the psyche."

Rukia snorted, leaving her formal brother to marvel at the minor miracle of their casual conversation.

"Would you like some tea, Nii-sama?"

"I believe so," he ventured, well aware of her penchant for strong, sweetened brews.

The girl's tiny yet steadfast hands retrieved the small, cast-iron pot from its roost atop a candlelit stand, filling a cup with an alluring amber liquid. Accepting the tea, Byakuya inhaled the crisp, floral steam and decided against inquiring about what he was going to imbibe; he had recently come to trust his sister's aesthetic despite his own hidebound habits.

Once again, his lively protégé came to mind. They certainly share a willingness to embrace novel concepts, he mused, sipping his drink while envisioning the redhead's flame-emblazoned socks.

"Isn't it good?" Rukia broke into his reverie and he quickly nodded, realizing he'd been caught sporting a near-smile.

"So…" she continued, doing her best impression of an innocent grin, "what kept you out so late?"

The noble exhaled gently, as the young lady was well aware of 'the lesson' slated for that evening.

"A high-profile case took an unfortunate turn," he pronounced carefully, mind already mulling over his next words. Byakuya watched his sister's exuberance falter, a cautious, blank look absorbing her expression.

You are now well versed in the ways of the family, Rukia, and it is a pity. Must I drain the life from all who surround me?

It wouldn't do to put it off any longer.

"Though lacking conclusive proof," he continued in a somber tone, "it is likely the result of an order handed down by Aizen Sosuke."

The petite girl blinked and set down her tea.

"Oh," she said, calm as she folded her hands over a book. "I see." Rukia paused. "I'm not surprised. The really evil ones don't go down easily, do they?"

"I suppose not," Byakuya agreed, astonishment naturally kept to himself. "Abarai came to the same conclusion."

"I bet he did," she sighed as her diminutive frame relaxed. "How is Renji taking it?"

"Remarkably well," the inspector admitted. Certainly better than I have.

"I'm glad," Rukia trailed an index finger around the rim of her cup, averting her eyes.

While their relationship had thawed considerably, certain topics were still avoided as an unspoken rule. Neither would pry into painful corners of the other's past, nor would the insinuation be made that any Kuchiki – especially not the two assembled siblings - was vulnerable to the same woes that plagued the rest of humanity. Byakuya was fairly certain this arrangement was more for the benefit of his own beleaguered pride than that of his resilient, street-smart sister.

"I have to say," she eventually continued, "that in a way, we're all better off for what we went through."

"Oh?" The detective schooled his countenance into a perfect, placid mask with practiced ease.

"Sociopaths like Aizen prey on the very humanity of others," Rukia enunciated carefully as her voice began to falter. "He might have taken advantage of the hurts and histories we'd rather have kept secret, but in the end, he brought us together to face the threat he posed…I mean, he poses."

The raven-haired beauty set fell silent as she struggled to maintain her composure. Her brother remained still, tapered fingertips stealing warmth from the porcelain cup in their grasp.

"If it weren't for that whole morass, I'd have never met Ichigo….and…well, Renji and…" her soft alto tapered up and off.

Byakuya's heavy eyelids lowered, not faring much better than his sister. For the hundredth time in a matter of days, he privately shuddered at the prospect of what they almost lost…and might still lose. There is nothing to say that our newly forged bonds won't disintegrate under the shadow of his machinations. We've all proved how gullible and insular we can be, how easily we can be turned against each other; I remain mortified by how neatly I played into his hands, how I nearly destroyed all I now hold dear –

"I'll never forgive them for hurting you."

Gunmetal gray eyes popped open, startled.

"Never," Rukia repeated, her own large, violet eyes filling with tears. "But I won't regret being able to sit here, to talk like this with my brother. And I'm glad that you're not alone anymore."

It wasn't until the girl had appeared at his side and seized him in a saline-splashed hug that he realized what – or more correctly, whom – she was referring to. He swallowed, wrapping an arm around the young woman quietly sobbing into his hair. There were too many thoughts and feelings vying for dominance, so Byakuya suppressed them all with a gentle sigh.

I shall not regret our circumstances either, Rukia. I will not disappoint you again.

As his frozen frame registered the warmth and life of the person beside him, the permafrost of his mind, or daresay heart, allowed another vow to enter its depths.

Renji, I will almost certainly disappoint you, but…but…I shall stop running away.

If either Kuchiki noticed the tear trailing down the elder's face, neither was inclined to mention it.

:*:*:

Glancing at the clock, Byakuya settled into the high-backed chair with a resigned finality usually reserved for clan events.

His eyes roved over the neatly stacked folders before him, settling on the thumb drive as he mentally catalogued the contents therein. Having spent the better part of a sleepless night perusing case files, the inspector considered his work with some satisfaction; the interminable conference might just turn out to be fruitful as well.

As the minute hand neared twelve, the Kuchiki heir opened his laptop and connected it to the central USB hub, watching the projector power on. Idle banter continued amongst the other assembled captains, with the exception of Zaraki Kenpachi who was already asleep and snoring in his chair.

Byakuya cast him an envious glance, wondering if it was possible to nod off during his own presentation. He knew it could be done – Renji had once managed it, standing up no less – but the homicide detective held out little hope of accomplishing such a feat himself.

A moment later, the conference room doors opened and in walked an atypically sober Superintendent Kyouraku with Ise Nanao hot on his heels. Taken aback at their supervisor's unexpected punctuality, Byakuya looked at his Rolex before signing in to the on-line meeting platform and entering their access code. The webcam light flashed and an image of the assembled detectives filled one half of the projector screen, while a cranky Hirako Shinji appeared on the other side, leaning out of the frame and whispering to an off-camera individual.

The Kuchiki shot a sidelong glance to the bearded man settling in at the head of the table, then at Ise-chan, who returned his gaze with a wink and a smile.

Startled and a bit confused, Byakuya blinked and eventually decided on a curt nod as he was unable to summon a more appropriate response. Looking again at Kyouraku-keishi-chō, who carefully avoided meeting his eyes, the noble pursed his lips.

Torn between curiosity and suspicion, he was no longer in any danger of falling asleep.

"Well, shall we get things started?" Kyouraku drawled as he sat back, crossing his legs and loosening his pink, petal-laden tie. His laughing eyes followed his subordinate as she distributed manila folders to each of the captains seated around the large table.

The background chatter trickled along unabated as a drowsy, bearded man slipped into the room and sank down in the chair next to the superintendent. Assistant District Attorney Stark seemed as bedraggled and uninebriated as Kyouraku, mused the homicide detective as he took in the homologous pair.

There are some advantages to morning meetings, Byakuya decided as the Power Point presentation finally loaded on his computer. Rather than waste time and breath on introductory comments, the inspector simply advanced the slide, replacing the webcam images with a pair of crime scene photos on the wall-sized projector screen.

An abrupt silence swept through the room.

Zaraki Kenpachi snorted himself awake and turned a glazed golden eye toward the gruesome scenes.

"-the fuck?" The waking gargoyle croaked, a half-smile crimping his face at the lack of budgetary projections.

"Are you getting this, Shinji?" Kyouraku leaned forward slightly as he reached for his coffee.

"Yeah," the federal agent sighed, papers shuffling loudly through the speaker centered on the conference table. "I'm with you. Whenever you're ready, Kuchiki."

"What is this?" Hitsugaya-keibu wondered aloud. The solemn head of the white-collar crimes division paged through the file in front of him before his large eyes settled on the screen again.

"S'our bust," Zaraki announced, stretching and yawning as he gestured to the image on the right, four familiar forms sprawled in an empty bedroom within one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city. "Don't any a'you bastards watch the news?"

"Why bother? You blab all the relevant details in the break room," Soi-fon murmured, evaluating her nails disinterestedly.

"Figured I'd save I.A. the trouble; either brag over coffee or have to lean over and talk right in ta' yer mike," the demon grinned at the wiry woman across the table.

"Those who follow the rules have nothing to fear from Internal Affairs," she huffed, frowning into her cup.

"It's kona, compliments of the lovely Ise-chan," Shunsui attempted to redirect the conversation and ignore the glare of his longsuffering se secretary. "Anyhoo…"

"I'm not recognizing the photos on the left," Tōshirō confessed, indicating the grainy, yellowing image with corpses posed identically to those on the opposite side.

"I do," Komamura-keibu pronounced quietly, deep set eyes gleaming in the dim room. "The sake massacre?"

Byakuya silently inclined his head.

"1977," the chief of the Vice squad continued, powerful fingers drumming on his folder.

"Before most'a you ladies were born," Kenpachi inserted under his breath.

"A shipment of high-grade heroin had been imported from South America," Komamura went on undaunted. "The benevolent brotherhood that distributed it saw enormous profit, so much so that their competitors tried to doctor their own product to pass for the import. They were found out, and things came to a head in a sake distillery in Old Town."

"The four men pictured were gunned down in the cook-lab there," the tall captain explained, "and rather than dump their bodies in the river, the yakuza hitmen displayed the corpses thus as a message to the competition."

"Hmm," the young, white-haired captain stared at the screen. "Is this the work of a copycat?"

"It'd have to be a pretty retro one," the disembodied voice of Agent Hirako chimed in. "And not too creative either; that photo was plastered all over newspapers nationwide for months."

"Meh," Zaraki shifted into a dangerously horizontal pose. "Why the picture show? Didn't ya already nail the guys?"

"For the more recent crime," Komamura clarified, "as the sake massacre was never officially solved."

"Yeah, yeah, fur face," the bored S.W.A.T. captain snorted.

Byakuya observed the Vice Chief bristle slightly before turning away from Zaraki and back to the screen.

"Well, your suspects died in transit to federal custody last night," the off-screen Shinji announced to a barrage of gasps and disgruntled noises.

"How could that – "

Soi-fon's question died in her throat as the noble advanced the slides. The right side of the screen was now covered by a photo from the previous evening, displaying the contents of the secured van, including one corpse with gold hair and another albino-pale, slumped in their seats with necks twisted and clearly broken.

Again, the image on the left was quite similar, though the black and white scanned photograph contrasted sharply with the high-resolution digital file standing opposite. The picture's subjects were the bodies of two young men outfitted in military garb and propped up against a fence, nooses still around their throats.

An empty Styrofoam cup clattered to the floor. Ise-chan bent to retrieve it as the double doors opened again and the chief Medical Examiner slipped inside to lean against a wall. Surreptitiously surveying the room, the noble saw the surprise and horror he'd experienced earlier that morning echoed in every face within the room; even Zaraki Kenpachi's typical bellicose indifference had transformed into disgust.

Urahara's whistle broke the tense silence.

"What are, 'the Izumo twins?' I'll take convicted traitors for a thousand, Alex," Kisuke quipped, emptying a packet of sugar into his coffee.

"I take it those were the brothers convicted of passing submarine technology on to the Soviets in 1943?" Hitsugaya-keibu inferred, gesturing to the older photo.

"Right you are, Toushirou-kun," the blond pathologist congratulated. "What else did I miss?"

"The part where an explanation is provided," Soi-fon supplied in an even, if chilly, tone. "The similarities between the old cases and new are disturbing, but I'm not sure what justifies an interdepartmental investigation."

"Besides the deaths in custody?" Kisuke cocked his head to the side, a cheeky grin on his face. "Is a kinder, gentler I.A. on the horizon?"

"Hardly," the petite woman shot back. "We were involved from the time of the drug bust, as Kuchiki-keibu had concerns about the protection afforded the suspects. If there was a deviation in protocol, it wasn't on our end."

"I wouldn't be so sure," a dubious Shinji reclaimed the right-hand side of the projector. "You did read the part of the report that documented breaches in your firewall and ballistics from a weapon that went missing from evidence, right?"

"Those deficiencies were corrected months ago," Soi-fon glared at the screen, then cast a displeased glance at the homicide detective sitting silently at his computer. "Kurotsuchi-keibu revamped the software personally; both the mainframe and on-site security have been upgraded since then."

"Well, if you find a fool-proof means of keeping hackers out, let the feds know," Hirako-san quipped with no small amount of sarcasm. "There's a good chance that your upgrades might have introduced a new problem into your system."

"Alright, alright," Kyouraku-keishi-chō intervened, hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. "The point of this little get-together wasn't to assign blame, but to regroup before things really hit the fan."

"What makes you think there is more trouble to come?" Komamura addressed their superintendent.

Byakuya spoke, at long last. "The four bodies discovered last week bore traces of Kyouka Suigetsu."

In the uproar that followed, the noble glanced first at the assistant district attorney, then the prefectural chief, both of whom shrugged and rolled their eyes.

It appears that I was not alone in my suspicions, he mused as the pandemonium died down.

"How long have you known?" A slightly irate Komamura demanded.

"We only got the trace back yesterday," Urahara supplied before the noble could respond. "I'm guessing it'll be at least a few days before you guys can confirm, Hirako-san?"

"Yeah, and don't call me that," Shinji grumbled, paging through something on his desk. "I've got my guys going through missing persons and John Does from the last couple of years now, to see if there are any other surprises Aizen might be cooking up for us. Hitsugaya, it'd be great if you could review any cases over the same timeframe; it may not be big-time heists…we're thinking that he'd stick to small transactions, things less likely to attract attention from us."

The youngest captain nodded. "It will take some time, as he liked- likes to operate under L.L.C.'s with superficially legitimate operations."

"No problem. Komamura, I'll put forth a similar request," Agent Hirako continued. "He's probably diversified his investments, so I apologize in advance for the drudgery."

"It is no trouble," the brawny man declared with certainty. "My department will make this a priority."

"Good, good," Shunsui murmured, unbuttoning his collar. "Soi-fon, I'd be in your debt if you could sit down with the amiable Kurotsuchi-keibu and give the whole place a good once-over; if you run into any trouble, I'm sure Urahara-sensei could offer some support?"

Kisuke beamed, only rendering the wiry woman more furious.

"We'll leave no stone unturned," the Internal Affairs chief promised in a carefully controlled voice. "Likewise, Agent Hirako can be assured of our full cooperation."

"Excellent," Shinji remarked, expression marginally less dubious than his tone. "Well, guys, thanks for sharing. I think we've all got our hands full for now, so what'dya say we conference call again in a week?"

"Sounds like fun," Kyouraku nodded. "Thanks for helping us out."

"No worries," the bowl-cut sporting agent spouted with a sigh. "Never a dull moment with you guys…"

The camera feed blacked out, and Nanao brought the room lights back up to full power.

"Gimme a call when you track the bastard down," Kenpachi whispered in Byakuya's ear, suddenly and alarmingly close. "My boys'll take care of'im. Wouldn't want'cha to muddy up yer prom dress."

The noble resisted the urge to jump, turning only enough to deliver a disdainful glance. In truth, he couldn't begrudge Zaraki's bloodlust under the circumstances…only his manners.

"I shall consider it, if you ask politely," the Kuchiki murmured. "Wearing a tiara would also be most persuasive."

Kenpachi cackled. "Hah! For a chance to nail that son-of-a-bitch, I'll sit through a budget conference wearin' nothin' but a smile."

"I'll be sure to disable the heater beforehand," Byakuya threatened with amusement as the superintendent's secretary handed out the quarterly finance report.

"Shit, I'd strip now if I could skip out on this part," the S.W.A.T. commander sighed, prompting Ise-chan to blush and the homicide captain to clear his throat.

"Better to save that for an appreciative audience," the aristocrat mentioned under his breath.

Suddenly his brain supplied images of Abarai Renji, grinning as he moved through various states of undress. Recently acquired information, such as the redhead's spicy scent, the extent of his exotic tattoos, and the way the defined muscles of his arms bulged and rippled made the dapper man's mouth go dry, and he coughed again.

"Tell ya what, let's set some rules," Zaraki went on conspiringly. "I'll lose something every time someone says 'cost,' and you strip something off whenever you hear the word 'expense'. Put anything ya want back on with 'savings,' and we'll both chuck an article o' clothin' with 'yen.' Got it?"

"No," Byakuya said quickly, both to the proposal and his body's continuing response to the scantily-clad Renji in his mind's eye.

"Aw, come on," Kenpachi chided with a manic grin, eyeing the other's three piece suit. "You've got twice the clothes on that I do."

"Absolutely not," the blue blood refused as his face warmed, to his mortification.

"Heh, the virgin princess defends her virtue," the demon chuckled. "I'd a'thought the kid woulda loosened ya up by now."

"What?" Byakuya hissed, following the other's golden gaze to their superior. Once again, Shunsui appeared amused and more than a little guilty as he made a 'tone-it-down' gesture towards Kenpachi.

The Kuchiki blinked in disbelief. Surely not. I must be imagining –

But as another knowing look passed between Kyouraku-keishi-chō and the S.W.A.T commander, then between the superintendent and his secretary, the noble felt his delicate stomach settle like lead.

Deciding to end the conversation by abstention, Byakuya turned his attention to the financial spreadsheet and the rows of tiny numbers therein.

"Well," Shunsui sighed at length, "guess we'd better move on."

Yes, indeed, the homicide captain silently agreed.

:*:*:

To be continued...