Verse: 'Half-Canon'.
The next morning after breakfast, they left the Kuchiki Manor together.
Having received her wardrobe for the trip from Akari, Hisana was swathed in a white haori over her pink kimono, as well as a thick pink scarf bundled around her neck and pink mittens encasing her hands. To her horror, her husband had not dressed any differently to combat the winter, and had even forgone his Captain's haori, leaving him in just his windflower silk scarf and shihakushō, his sword by his side. She'd implored him to put on something warmer, but he'd brushed her concerns aside.
Of course, his attire had rarely changed whenever he departed for the Sixth Division. The debut of winter since December had had no impact on him. Hisana supposed that he only really faced the cold during his journey from the manor to the Division Barracks, but today was going to be different. They would be out in the open all day.
Admittedly, she'd doubted herself the second she'd stepped out of the manor. It was freezing. She'd hibernated for so long inside the estate that she'd been completely taken off-guard by the arctic temperature. Bits of pale snow lined the grounds, and the trees, which once flourished with vibrant cherry and plum blossoms, were now bald, their branches like curled fingers.
How on Earth had she survived all those past winters at the Rukon District? Had she become so spoiled and pampered by the luxurious life in the Kuchiki Manor that she'd grown unaccustomed to the daily hardships she'd once suffered? It was either that, or her illness had weakened her constitution, but the realisation was humbling all the same.
She would have to prove to herself that she could bear it. Pulling the sides of her haori closer over herself and burying her chin further into her cashmere scarf, Hisana followed her husband down the path towards White Road Gate which led to the Rukon District outside Seireitei. Since he was accompanying her, she would not need her usual gate pass to return to the gate later.
Glancing at her lover walking alongside her, she felt guilt prick at her skin. If not for her presence, he would have used Flash Step to head towards the gate. It would take him less than half the time she needed to reach it. To make things worse, her walking pace was also slower than his usual long-legged strides, and she was painfully aware that his current pace was adjusted to match hers.
"I'm sorry," Hisana said softly.
He cast her a sidelong glance, one dark brow arched, and she ploughed on.
"That you have to walk with me," she emphasised, averting her gaze to the little snowflakes floating down from the blinding white sky. "I know you would have normally used Flash Step."
Even though she was not looking at him, she could still feel Byakuya's gaze upon her.
"There's nothing wrong with a walk," he said simply.
Hisana couldn't help but smile at that.
"I've walked down this path many times myself," she said, after a pause. "But today, Byakuya-sama is walking here with me. It feels nice—special. I'm glad."
She glanced back up at him, her earnest smile broadening on her lips.
He did not reply, but he did not have to, for she saw the fleeting softness to his slate grey eyes.
Before long, they came across the Seireitei street vendors. Hisana always passed them by on her way to the Rukon District. They sold a multitude of goods: accessories, makeup, clothes, food, chopsticks, sake cups, teacups, stationery, home decorations and so on. The first time she'd been here, she'd been blown away. There was such a wide, assorted range of items on sale that she'd felt dazed taking them all in. From lovely hairpins to varying species of flowers to fancy bottles of perfume, she'd taken her time looking through the displays before she'd gone off towards the gate.
She hadn't purchased a single thing, however, and she would never do so.
It wasn't that she didn't have the money, of course. Whenever she left the Kuchiki estate, Akari would hand her a kinchaku bag packed copiously to the brim with coins for her to spend should anything catch her fancy from the streets stalls or shops of Seireitei. Hisana would take it, painfully conscious of the fact that it wasn't really her money.
It was her husband's.
Her entire lifestyle now was supported by him. The roof over her head, the clothes she wore, the food she ate, the bed she slept in—they were all from her husband. It had been almost a year since they'd married, and she still couldn't get over how financially dependent she was on him. Obā-chan had scoffed at her guilt, saying he would hardly be a man if he wasn't able to support his own wife, but Hisana couldn't help but feel that in the modern era things were changing. Besides, women supported by their husbands were generally homemakers who took care of their children and did household chores, but she didn't even perform the latter with servants around.
She refused to even think of the former now.
Some days she wished deeply that she possessed the spiritual powers to be a Shinigami, so she could join the Gotei Thirteen and earn her own income. This way, she would be able to claim just the slightest bit of independence in her relationship, and reduce some of her guilt.
But like it or not, Hisana's spiritual capacity was near negligible, and her current circumstances didn't seem to be changing anytime soon. The only thing she could control was her spending.
Which was why she rarely opened that kinchaku bag, regardless of the beautiful kanzashi she'd seen in a stall nearby, or the bottles of red safflower rouge on display that she so wanted to have.
So as usual, she walked through the throng of vendors on either side of her, glancing idly at the displays with feigned disinterest. Some of the vendors recognised her, however, and their voices rose.
"Ojō-chan, long time no see!" one of them, a man with greying hair and a mustache, clamoured. "You haven't been around forever! What happened? Won't you change your mind for the first time and buy something today? Come on—you never do! I've got some nice daffodils—"
He stopped abruptly, frozen, when he saw the man behind her.
Clearly, her husband was a prominent figure in all of Seireitei, both for his Captain status and his noble birth as Head of one of the Four Noble Houses. Judging by the gobsmacked expressions on many of the vendors, they were probably wondering why Kuchiki Byakuya was standing by her side.
Sometimes she wondered that as well.
Hisana cast her gaze to the displays on the other stalls, trying to avoid looking at the flabbergasted faces of the vendors. She found herself fixated on the display of kanzashi on one of the stalls. Amidst the beautiful hana kanzashi, her eyes fell past the daffodil, plum blossom and cherry blossom motifs and upon a bright pink-red camellia hairpin. Its vibrant colour was stark amongst all the other kanzashi, and it even had a bobby pin, which suited her short hair.
It was so beautiful.
She averted her glance, looking back up at the line of vendors. The effects of her husband's presence were incredible. She'd never seen anything silence the vociferous vendors so effectively before.
And then Hisana felt movement beside her, and she turned her head only to see Byakuya calmly place a coin he'd extracted from his sleeve on the counter of the stall.
The vendor beamed at once, taking the coin with a bow. "What would you like, Kuchiki Taichō?"
Byakuya's reply was candid and succinct. "The camellia."
Hisana sucked in her breath. Had she been that transparent? She felt mortified. Sometimes it felt like a double-edged blade to have a husband so attuned to every fibre of her being; there was little of her thoughts she could keep private from him.
"Here you go, Ojō-chan," the vendor coaxed, holding the kanzashi out to her.
Hisana's cheeks heated. It was hardly the first time her husband had bought her a gift, but it was the first time she'd seen the monetary transaction behind it. It was measly—practically negligible—money to Byakuya in this instance compared to the other expensive kanzashi she'd been given, like the marigold kanzashi for the Celebration Dance as well as her betrothal kanzashi, but it didn't mean she felt comfortable about it.
Yet it didn't change the fact that she coveted the camellia kanzashi, regardless of how cheap it was compared to her other possessions at home. Her mitten-clad hands were a tad unsteady as she accepted the hairpin. She stared down at the vivid cerise flower, her heart beating faster, and for a second she stood, debating whether to remove her mittens to put on the hairpin properly, or to keep it in her kimono to wear another time.
But then Byakuya's gloved hands gently enveloped her smaller ones, and he extracted the hairpin from her mittened digits. She held her breath as he brushed aside strands of her hair framing one side of her heart-shaped face and slid the pin securely through the thick midnight locks behind those strands.
Just as he had the night he had asked her to marry him. Hisana's pulse sped up further, and she felt a sudden aching warmth in her chest at the memory. She looked up at him, her violet eyes glimmering with emotion, and she knew he would have read her mind. His slate grey eyes met hers easily, and just like that, for a pregnant heartbeat, the moment seemed to freeze in limbo between them.
After all, before her wedding, and before her pregnancy, that night had been the happiest night of her life.
It had been an unexpected ride to the Rukon District. Upon reaching White Road Gate, Hisana had found herself thrown by the sight of a rickshaw waiting on the other side, accompanied by a sandy-haired Shinigami, who bent his back into an obsequious bow towards both Byakuya and herself.
Even the gatekeeper Jidanbō Ikkanzaka, a bearded giant that towered over thirty feet into the sky, had looked deferential when he saw the Kuchiki Head, his head bowed.
"Hisana-sama," the sandy-haired Shinigami had said respectfully, still bent in a bow, and she'd realised he was the driver of the rickshaw. He stood beside the leather seat, and she rapidly grasped his intentions.
Her breathing quickened. Surely… there must be a mistake. She'd never ridden a rickshaw into the Rukon District before. If anything, she'd always felt detached from the thought of ever being near those vehicles—only high-standing Shinigami or noblemen sat in them.
It was peculiar, but it had taken Hisana a belated second before she registered that she was a noblewoman now, and of upper nobility too, her station technically only second to the royal family within the hierarchy of Soul Society. Even now, after eight months of her marriage to the Head of the Kuchiki House, she still failed to truly accept her high status here in Seireitei.
She felt like a fraud, because underneath all of her expensive clothing, she knew she was nothing more than a peasant from the Rukon District.
And she knew there were plenty of people in the Kuchiki House and other noble families who privately agreed with that assessment.
"Byakuya-sama," Hisana stammered, turning her head towards her husband. "I… I don't think…"
He looked back at her, unruffled, his windflower silk scarf fluttering in the breeze. Despite his silence, she could read the implicit message behind his tranquil disposition.
It was either she accept this, or they were to head back home. She had been naïve to assume he would disregard her health just because he'd agreed to her request to visit the Rukon District. Evidently he was accompanying her for a reason, considering he'd made arrangements to accommodate her recent recovery from her illness. Touched and happy as she was by his care, her pulse skittering, she still could not feel comfortable with the rickshaw.
But Hisana knew better than to refuse. The last time she had gone against his wishes and neglected her health, the consequences had turned out to be devastating.
She owed Byakuya this much.
The girl took the offered hand from the sandy-haired Shinigami, and he helped her onto the leather seating. As she sat, she bent her ebony head, chin buried into her pink cashmere scarf, staring down at her mittened hands, and a minute later, she felt the rickshaw set off, the wheels grinding against gravel. Her husband had walked sedately alongside the rickshaw, moving swiftly and gracefully in those long-legged strides.
Her sole comfort, she supposed, was that at the very least, he need not slow himself so much to match her sluggish pace anymore.
She had still felt terribly self-conscious, however, as they had traversed down the districts, aware of residents stopping in their tracks when she passed them, looking on in awe. Sitting in the rickshaw, dressed in her lavish silk haori, kimono and her cashmere scarf whilst accompanied by her elegantly attired husband, she clearly looked like a lady of prestige and aristocracy.
She knew then that for the rest of her life, she would never get used to living this lie.
Fortunately, the journey to Hanging Dog had not taken as long as it would have had she travelled on foot herself, and they soon arrived at the outskirts of her home district. Hisana had requested that she alight here, and she was almost giddy with relief when her husband assented.
This time, it was Byakuya that held out his slender gloved hand to help her down from the rickshaw. Even after so long into their marriage, her heartbeat never failed to escalate at the warmth of those strong, calloused fingers on hers.
Encouraged by his warm touch, she raised her head towards him.
"Byakuya-sama," Hisana said softly. "Thank you for caring for me." She meant it wholeheartedly; there were few people in the world whom had ever made her feel so treasured and cherished. No matter what, regardless if it pushed the realm of her capabilities, she vowed to herself that she would protect and care for the man she loved the way he did her. "But in the future, when I have fully recovered and my health is completely fine again, I would like to walk here as usual. This mode of transport…It isn't, um..."
She struggled to find the words, and he simply watched her instead of pressing for details, looking distantly interested.
"It isn't befitting," Hisana finished at last. "I'm very grateful, of course, just…"
"Why is it not befitting?"
She blinked. He had spoken, unhurriedly and levelly, with the same detached interest.
"Um…" She looked down at her feet. She had never spoken the words aloud before, and she couldn't bring herself to, even though she knew he must have, to a certain extent, noted her insecurities throughout their time together. The hints were all there for him to see today, from how she'd never bought anything for herself before from the vendor stalls, from how uneasy she'd been sitting in the rickshaw, and from her statement now.
Her breath caught when his gloved hand cupped her chin and gently lifted her head up to look at him. His slate grey eyes met her violet orbs intently.
"You are my wife, Hisana," Byakuya said quietly. "Do well to remember that."
She stared up at him, unable to respond. Her heart felt like it was about to burst, and her eyes felt wet with hot tears despite the cold wintry air.
Of course she remembered that. Being his wife was the best thing that had ever happened to her, not because of the status and wealth that came with it, but because it meant she legally belonged with the man of her dreams. She remembered how forlorn and miserable she'd once been, thinking of him married to another woman while she remained as the other woman he secretly met in the Rukon District.
For months since she'd moved into the Kuchiki Manor, she had completely forgotten about her past fears, and her chest felt light with joy and relief now.
Tenderly, Hisana smiled back at Byakuya.
"Yes," she said. "I will never forget that, Byakuya-sama."
She would never forget this joy.
For the next few minutes, neither of them spoke anymore as they ventured into the decrepit, dingy streets of the district, marked by rows of dilapidated huts on either side of them, and she'd been faintly surprised when her lover had chosen to walk slightly behind her. This was his way of allowing her the flow of her usual routine whenever she came to search for her sister; his way of watching over her but not interfering.
Not for the first time, Hisana wondered what she had done in her past life to deserve someone like her husband.
"Hisana!"
Her head jerked up in surprise, and she saw the familiar sight of two young children dressed in rags scrambling towards her across the pale snow, their little feet clad in socks. Their robes and coat were tattered and threadbare, and a pang of upset and guilt seized Hisana again when she thought of her own refined clothing compared to theirs.
"Ritsu, Ran," Hisana beamed, bending down at the cherub-faced siblings. "What are the two of you doing out in the cold? You should go back to your hut."
"Hisana, we haven't seen you for so long!" Ritsu—the older brother—cried. "Where haven't you come back? You always used to come back every week! It's been… Has it been a month?"
"Have you forgotten us?" Ran, who was his little sister, demanded petulantly.
"No, of course not," Hisana laughed. "I'm so sorry. I've been…" She paused, then continued, "I've been a bit ill, but I'm fine now."
I was going to have a baby, but I lost that baby.
She tamped the anguish down. This wasn't the time.
"Are you okay now?" Ritsu queried, wide-eyed, then he jumped when he noticed the much taller male standing quietly behind Hisana. She knew he would recognise the black robes her husband wore to place that he was a Shinigami, though she wasn't sure if the boy would recognise the loaded significance behind his decadent windflower silk scarf and the kenseikan in Byakuya's raven hair. "Who… Who is this?"
She could tell Ritsu was intimidated, even if he didn't thoroughly comprehend the nuances in Byakuya's attire. There was an elegance, self-assuredness and regality her lover always carried himself with that had nothing to do with his physical appearance. Hisana herself had sensed that the first time she'd met him in Hanging Dog, that he simply didn't belong here—that nothing she offered him in her hut where she'd played hostess would come close to befitting him.
"This is…" Hisana hesitated, feeling abruptly surreal. She'd never envisioned this scenario ever happening before. "Ran, Ritsu, this is my husband."
This is the man I love.
"Husband?" Ran's round face looked confused. Hisana didn't blame her. Both children had been raised by their grandfather in their hut, and the covenant of marriage must be foreign to them. Weddings did not take place often in Hanging Dog, and most families that lived together were formed by groups of residents unrelated by blood nor by marriage.
"Yes," Hisana said gently. "He is my family now."
"Is this why you left Hanging Dog, Hisana?" Ritsu asked. "To live with your new family? Obā-chan said you were moving into a new family."
Hisana nodded, conscious of her husband watching. "Yes. Something like that."
"But why do you need to move away to the new family?" Ran probed persistently, darting her big brown eyes at a silent Byakuya. "Can't he move here with you? I wish you would stay, Hisana."
Hisana smiled, squeezing Ran's small hands. They were far too chilly for Hisana's liking. "I miss you too. I'll come and visit you lots, all right?"
Ran's gaze fastened onto the stark pink camellia pinned in Hisana's hair. "Hisana," she whispered, brown eyes widening in admiration. "What's that? It's so pretty."
"Oh." Hisana reached for the kanzashi. "Do you want this, Ran?"
Ran nodded eagerly. "You'll give it to me?"
"Of course," Hisana said affectionately. "But you need to do something for me, all right?"
"What is it?" Ran looked beside herself with excitement.
"You see, Byakuya-sama—my husband—bought this for me," Hisana explained softly. "So make sure you thank him when you take this, okay?"
Ran stiffened, then nodded furiously. She turned to the Kuchiki Head, and bowed. "Thank you, Byakuya-sama!"
Hisana smiled as her husband gazed calmly back at the little girl. He didn't speak, but she didn't expect him to. As she watched, he glanced at Hisana, his grey eyes as unfathomable as ever.
She smiled back at him in a faint apology for giving away the present he had gifted her, then slowly tugged the camellia kanzashi free from her dark hair with her mittened hands. Despite that, she was sure he would not be angry.
For deep down, she knew Kuchiki Byakuya was a kind-hearted man, regardless of how others might perceive him.
Then she reached down and beckoned Ran over, and, after removing a pink mitten from one hand, she helped pin the camellia kanzashi in the child's hair.
"How do I look?" Ran asked exuberantly, patting and feeling the flower with her clumsy, animated fingers.
"You look so pretty, Ran," Hisana told her. "Like an angel."
Ritsu snorted. "She looks stupid. It looked nicer on Hisana."
Ran glared at her brother. "Shut up!"
"Now, now, enough, both of you," Hisana said, grabbing Ran's wrist before she punched Ritsu. The little girl's hand was still freezing cold, and Hisana felt her heart wrench.
"Ran, take this—" Hisana began, about to hand her the mitten she'd taken off, only to stop in surprise when a lean, long-fingered hand touched Hisana's bony wrist.
She looked up, stunned, into her husband's dark eyes. He didn't look that different from before, but despite his mild countenance, she recognised the tacit warning.
The kanzashi was fine to give away, but the mittens were not. In her current condition when she had just recovered from her latest bout of illness, she could not afford to catch a cold.
Hisana bit the inside of her cheek, but knew better than to argue. She slowly pulled the mitten back over her thin hand, and smiled at the two children, who both appeared puzzled by the change in the now heavy atmosphere.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I need to go now. The two of you are to return to your hut now, all right? It's too cold to be hanging outside. That's the deal for the hairpin, Ran."
Ran hesitated, but nodded.
"Will you come back again soon, Hisana?" she pressed.
Hisana nodded, half-praying that her husband, who was listening without comment, would allow it. "Of course. Now go back home."
They nodded together, waving their hands in cheerful farewell to Hisana, Ran's beam unwaveringly radiant.
And then, as Hisana watched, waving back, they scampered off, Ran chorusing ebulliently to her brother that she couldn't wait to show their grandfather her new hairpin. She looked so happy—so oblivious to the biting cold of winter and the snowflakes falling fast on her dark hair.
And minutes later, the children were gone.
They trekked through the forest, which looked a far cry from how it normally appeared in the summer and spring. All the trees were bald, the boughs like bleak spidery digits, weighed down by a thick mantle of snow. The once leafy undergrowth, too, was coated substantially in a layer of ivory snow. Blinding snowflakes were falling fast on their heads, dotting their dark hair in pure white, and Hisana found herself blinking frequently at the bits of icy wet snow that landed on her long lashes.
Just last year, she remembered herself travelling around Hanging Dog with a heavy heart during the winter, not just because of her sister, but because of the man she'd started to fall in love with.
The memory struck her now. Her first meeting with Byakuya had been way before the winter, but they had technically only started meeting properly and embarking on their affair during the winter. She remembered that for the two months after their first meeting, she had wandered the snowy, arctic-cold streets of Hanging Dog, wondering despairingly if she would ever see the elusive Captain again.
"Byakuya-sama," Hisana said, stopping in her tracks to look up at her companion. He gazed down at her steadily, and she had to resist the magnetic pull of falling straight into those piercing dark silvery depths. "Do you remember when you gave me your scarf last year, when we first met?"
He regarded for her a moment, then spoke. His response was quiet and even.
"I remember."
All she'd had left of him was the windflower silk scarf around her neck to help see her through the winter.
Hisana smiled at the memory. "It kept me warm during the winter."
He said nothing, but he continued watching her with those smothering slate grey eyes.
"That made me so happy," she said, and continued walking along the snowy forest floor, her sandals sinking into the fluffy but otherwise rather solid surface. A trail of footsteps in the alabaster snow followed their figures. "I used to hate winter, but the last winter was different. No matter how cold and lonely it got, I had something to remember you by."
It was true. Last winter had been the most special time in her life, when she'd received all those gifts from the elusive Captain, and when she'd finally seen him again for the second time since their brief meeting for the first time in this very forest.
And yet this year she'd started to hate the winter again. How could she not?
It was the season during which she had lost her baby.
Hisana slowed in her steps, a mittened hand going to her lips as she coughed. Her throat felt uncomfortable, dry and itchy, and she coughed again, feeling slightly light-headed as well.
Byakuya's arms were instantly around her, holding her close, and she relaxed into his soothing warmth as he gently caressed her slender back with his gloved hand. Suddenly, she was very glad that he had accompanied her here—her health really wasn't like before, where she'd been able to endure the winter even in her thinner clothing back then. Dimly she realised she was shivering a little in the protective width of his arms. She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling his heady scent of rain, lavender ink and something else unique to him.
She felt Byakuya lean forward slightly, one arm going under her knees and the other still around her shoulders, before he lifted her slight form fully into his arms.
"Byakuya-sama—" Hisana began, taken aback, but he interrupted her with a velvety baritone murmur in her ear.
"Hold onto me."
And then her senses were a blur as he set off using Flash Step, the ends of his scarf fluttering serenely behind him.
To her surprise, he had not brought her back to the rickshaw, where she knew the other Shinigami must be awaiting them. Probably to ensure she received some warmth first, her husband had brought her back to her old, ramshackle hut. A part of her had been astonished he still remembered the route towards it, and now that she was back inside her former home, she couldn't help but experience a jolt of nostalgia when she saw the crumbly, miniature table in the corner, where unlit candles lay atop it. She'd used to light the candles for warmth in here.
With the door shut behind them, Byakuya laid her down onto the dusty straw mats, resting her back against the stone wall. And then her violet eyes had widened when he removed his windflower silk scarf with his usual unhesitant, methodical efficiency before he seated himself gracefully beside her and proceeded to entwine the luxurious silk carefully around her neck, over her own pink cashmere scarf. She felt as if all the air had deserted her lungs.
"Byakuya-sama—" Shocked, Hisana raised her pale hand and grabbed his wrist. Her breath escaped her lips in tendrils of mist. "No, I already have one, you'll be cold—"
She was immediately silenced by the level, piercing look Byakuya sent her way. Meekly, she stilled, allowing him to finish binding the windflower silk scarf around her neck.
Once he'd released her, Hisana found the courage to speak into the silence.
"I love you, Byakuya-sama," she said, very softly.
Now it was his turn to still, those unreadable grey eyes boring into hers. While he'd never uttered those words to her, she realised with some regret that she didn't say them often to him either.
But she did. She loved him so much; his kindness, his gentleness, his coldness, his aloofness—every little contradictory piece of Kuchiki Byakuya. She'd been so destroyed by the loss of her baby as of late that she hadn't paid enough attention to that fact.
The loss of their baby had been agonising, but by the end of the day, as long as she could remain by the side of the man she loved, she would survive this.
She had to.
With that, she gently pulled at the windflower silk scarf from her neck and then worked on bundling the lengthy scarf around both of them. The scarf was long enough for her to wind it around their necks multiple times, just as she had during the first time she'd ever brought him inside this very hut.
And then Hisana rested her head against her husband's shoulder, feeling content, warm, and tranquil with both his windflower silk scarf and his spiritual pressure cocooning her body. For a long while, neither said a word.
They didn't need to.
He hadn't said he'd loved her back, but he didn't have to. So much in her life were far more momentous than words, and that, she knew, encapsulated their relationship. All the wordless things Byakuya had done for her were proof enough: remaining steadfastly by her bedside while she'd been ill, holding her in his arms every time she broke down at night and, in the process, keeping her from falling apart altogether; and even now, as he bent his raven head towards her own upturned head and kissed her with those soft, minty-cool lips, it was all evidence.
She felt like she was transported a year into the past; for back in the previous winter, they had had their first kiss inside this hut too.
Winter.
She'd associated its coldness and bleakness with loss because of her miscarriage, but that hadn't been entirely true, had it?
And as Hisana's eyes fluttered shut and she melted into their searing kiss, she felt the perpetual anguish that had settled in her chest ever since her miscarriage begin to ease, just the tiniest bit.
Now, she reflected that the storm of winter didn't seem so unbearable anymore.
Hisana trembled.
She trudged forward through the snow, her socked feet wobbling, spindly arms wrapped around herself as a weak shield against the howling gale of the incoming blizzard. The moth-eaten, torn wool mantle she'd found earlier did little to soothe her cold. She felt as if she was being assaulted by an onslaught of pointed icicles pelting every inch of her skin. Flakes of heavy pale snow fell fast as she approached the door of her hut, her feet reduced to ice blocks. Her button nose and pale cheeks were stained pink.
Despite her agony, she willed herself to plow forward, wading her socked ankles through the thick island of snow. She practically collapsed onto the battered door, flinging it open with her weight.
Hisana landed gracelessly on the stone floor of her hut, and then huddled herself into a tiny, shivering ball. Flecks of snow slid off her raven hair. The gale promptly shut her door behind her with a bang, casting the interior of the hut in darkness. She needed to light her candles, but for now, she was content just lying where she was, waiting for the feeling to return to her limbs, especially her feet. She couldn't be more grateful for the still, silent air.
Unexpectedly, a familiar silver-white flutter caught her eye, and she stiffened.
Was she dreaming...?
Instantly, a dazed Hisana was transported back to that very moment months ago... one that had irrevocably changed her life since.
The amber glow of the sunset illuminated the stranger's long windflower silk scarf, which flickered in the soft breeze.
She stared dumbly at the ebony back of the Shinigami facing her. As she watched, her breath caught in her throat, he turned slightly from where he'd been observing the inside of the hut, and slate grey eyes met her violet ones quietly in the dim.
Her lips, now numb for a reason that had nothing to do with the cold, parted, and tendrils of her warm breath spiraled into the chilly air.
"... Byakuya-sama?"
After all, winter had been but a new beginning for the both of them.
:tbc: