25 Frequency

A cacophony of slamming doors and heavy footfalls filled his ears: "Clack, stomp, thump, thump, thud." There was something all too surreal about what he was experiencing. Reaching, he slid open a door. It was easy enough, and the sound of it being pulled back on its track was appropriate, but… Then, there was another door. He opened the door, took a few steps, and was greeted by yet another door.

There were not these many doors in his house. He was sure of it. No, this was not the Kuchiki estate at all. His home had been replaced by some strange labyrinth of shoji doors. But, why? Why did he continue forward?

Desperation was the answer. There was a desperate urging inside of him that forced him to continue. It was a strange ominous force that compelled him. He knew that something was awry. He knew that when he reached the end of the never-ending hall of doors that something awful was waiting for him. He could feel the dread building in his stomach until it was palpable.

"You should have never broken the rules," his uncle's voice rang out from seemingly nowhere.

He did not pause to take stock of the oddity for in his mind it was inconsequential. There was nothing that was going to stop him from reaching the unspeakable thing that lie beyond the doors.

"You know why there are rules in place, young Byakuya. They are not arbitrary. They are there to prevent bad things from occurring. They are there to order life – to ensure peace and tranquility. That is why it is so imperative for us to uphold these laws.' The disembodied call wafted over him. It was the calm baritone voice of his father.

His brows furrowed and his jaw clenched the moment the advice registered.

"Bad things happen when the rules are broken. They are there to prevent things like this from happening…"

The sentiments kept repeating in his mind in an unending loop. With each door pulled back, the voices of his uncle and father grew more intense. With each pace forward, the loop sped.

His gut twisted and tightened in anticipation. His head pounded in rhythm to the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. It was all so terrible and dizzying. The scenery began to melt together, and the strange recording in his head began to slow and distort until the words became unrecognizable.

Then, he reached the last door, or at least what he thought was the last door. The wood of the door was red and the rice paper was black. He reached out for it, and threw it back with equal measure to reveal a dimly lit room. Shadows clung to the wall as thickly as despair hung in the air. Only a small rectangle of light was emitted from the newly opened door.

He knew this room. It was his wife's room except now it was bare – wiped clean of her existence. Stationed in the middle of the room was a small shrunken figure resting on a white futon. Beside the figure was Murasaki seated in perfect seiza.

"She is dead."

'This is why there are rules – to prevent heartache.'

- - -

He squeezed his eyelids tightly together upon waking. He could feel the sunlight streaming into the room, and the last thing he wanted to do was open his eyes and be blinded by the dreadfully sunny day. "Hisana," he murmured, stretching out an arm and patting his hand along her side of the bed.

Coldness met his touch.

His eyes snapped open and he pulled himself up into a seated posture. "Hisana?" he called, somewhat groggily. He looked out through bleary eyes and scanned the room. She was not in her usual place by his side nor at the desk. In fact, her futon was gone.

A chill bolted through him, and his heart skipped a beat.

Admittedly, he was not completely awake. Part of him, his rational mind to be specific, was still caught in that state of limbo that exists between dream and reality. He was not quite cognizant enough to decipher the imagined from the true.

'Is she dead? Was it real? Am I alone again?' The questions kept piling in his head. Anxious at the prospect that he had lost her and could not remember when or if she had died, he yanked back the covers that had tangled around him and took to his feet.

Hastily and somewhat dazed, he slammed back the door and poked his head out of the room to find Ito folding some linens as he wandered the corridor. "Milord!" the servant addressed Byakuya reverently.

Byakuya stared at him. His eyes calm belied his confusion.

"Is there something the matter?"

"Lady Hisana?"

"She's gone, Milord."

Byakuya's eyes noticeably widened, and a stricken look painted his face.

Immediately observing his master's distress, Ito stammered to finish his thought. "I-I mean, she left early this morning. She said she would be back shortly; she was just going to the Fourth Division to get the results of her blood test. Why? Milord looks unwell. Is everything-"

Byakuya shook his head in relief, and gave a wave of his hand. "You are dismissed."

Ito bowed his goodbye before speedily scurrying down the hall.

Exhaling deeply, Byakuya braced some of his weight against the frame of the door and glanced up into the ceiling. This had only been a test, the more cynical part of him observed. One day he was going to wake up alone. Would he then be cruelly tricked by some dream that she still existed in this realm?

He inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes at the thought. The day when he would come barreling out of his room in need of a servant to confirm that she was still alive when she wasn't would be a bad day indeed.

_ - - - -

"Come this way, Lady Kuchiki," a female orderly said sweetly.

Hisana mindlessly followed the woman into a small white room. It had become a routine by now. A disdainful routine, but perfunctory nonetheless.

The orderly gestured to the examining table. "If you will, Lady Kuchiki, take a seat," she said in the most sanguine voice imaginable. "The doctor will be in shortly."

Hisana forced a smile and nodded politely as she watched the woman turn heel and leave. And, there she was… alone. She sat patiently waiting with only the low rumble of her own thoughts to keep her company.

'Scheduling patients this early in the morning should be illegal. Why not? They seem to have a law for everything else around here,' she mused bitterly as she glanced over the room. It was sterile, smelt of disinfectant, and aside from the badly painted watercolor sketch hanging near the door there was little in the way of color.

'Remember, you are the one who agreed to this appointment. You thought it would be early enough to avoid the awkward conversation you'd have with your husband…' Her shoulders sagged at the thought. Indeed, she had been more than adamant to schedule the visit before daybreak. She knew that her husband was suspicious when it came to her treatment and prognosis. He had subtly, in his own indifferent way, pestered her to come along on her next visit, but she had refused. She always refused. So, now she had to resort to subterfuge in order to avoid a scene.

She furrowed her brows as she considered his motivations. 'It is awful. He's just trying to show support.' She bit the inside of her bottom lip, and swallowed the lump in her throat.

'Or, he's just being bratty as usual. Making sure you do as you're told – controlling as he is. Remember the medicine incident? That's when he started to insist that he accompany you to your appointments. He doesn't trust you.'

Suddenly, she began to feel very warm. Her gut clenched, and a sharp pain radiated out from her stomach. Sweat began to collect on her brow, and her limbs felt heavy and unwieldy. The whole room felt like it was tilting to the left, and whites and metallic silver colors began to swirl together in front of her.

Catching herself, Hisana gripped the edge of the table. She swayed from side to side until she steadied herself using the table as a way to brace her weight. "I feel so tired now," she murmured softly to herself.

"You look tired," a gentle female voice washed over her.

Turning her gaze to the door ahead of her, Hisana narrowed her eyes into a squint. "Captain Unohana?" she murmured, nonplussed by the Captain's presence.

"How are you feeling, Lady Kuchiki? Your blood tests indicate that you're system is strangely out of order. Did you bring the medication prescribed to you by Dr. Kaito?"

Hisana nodded her head tiredly, and shakily lifted a hand to withdraw the satchel she had tucked in her kimono. "This," she said proffering the medicines.

Unohana took the satchel from Hisana and offered the woman a smile. "Good. I want to verify the components here for myself. While I run some tests, I want to give you a few vitamin and electrolyte injections. These should hopefully ease some of your symptoms."

Hisana nodded her head approvingly.

"How is your back healing?" Unohana asked, moving to Hisana's side and gently easing her yukata down to get a glimpse at the wounds.

"They don't look like they've healed a bit," she said softly under her breath.

Hisana turned her head and glanced over at the Captain of the Fourth. Unohana appeared pensive, and her expression was slightly grave as she considered the implications of the wounds.

"If my body isn't able to heal myself, then --" Hisana began tiredly, but lost the interest to complete the sentence. There really was no need to state the obvious. Both of them knew what the stunted healing signified: Hisana did not possess the spirit power necessary to do something as basic as mend a wound. Her entire immune system was now severely compromised. A good chest cold could do her in now.

"We could try infusions," Unohana said, but judging by her expression it seemed unlikely that they would help.

Hisana shrugged her kimono back over her shoulder, and forced a smile. "I would like to maintain my dignity about this matter whatever the treatment may be, Captain."

Unohana nodded her head. "That is understandable, Lady Kuchiki." Wordlessly, the captain began her way toward the door to the room. Before exiting, she turned to Hisana. "Would you like for me to send the report regarding the medicine to the Kuchiki estate?"

Hisana shook her head. "I can pick them up myself."

Unohana tried her best to hide her disapproval with Hisana's decision. "Are you sure? In your state it would be wise to rest."

"Thank you for your concern, but I am sure."

"A nurse will be in shortly. Please, rest. Afterwards, I would like to keep you here an hour or so for observation before releasing you."

Hisana's gaze drifted to the floor. "Of course, Captain."

'So much for a quick in and out…' she could not help but think to herself the moment Unohana left the room.

Feeling more than a little queasy, she scooted back on the examining table and leaned down. Her muscles slowly began to relax, and the pain in her stomach lessened.

All was going well until the nurse showed up. She was proficient and professional, of course, but all Hisana could remember before passing out was the woman inserting the IV.

Regaining consciousness, she fought hard to keep her eyelids from fluttering close. All she could feel was a chill running through her left arm, and the heat against her right hand. She lifted her head up to search the room through half-lidded eyes.

A faint smile lifted the corners of her lips. "Lord Byakuya," she murmured in a croaky voice.

He glanced down at her, and a look of relief crossed his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Drugged," she said, referencing the bag of serum hanging from the IV stand.

He nodded his head sympathetically. "Do you need anything?"

"Stay here with me, please."

"Of course," he said, rubbing some warmth back into her hand.

"How much longer do I have to stay here?"

Byakuya considered her question. Try as he might his mind could not conjure up the pretty assurances he was certain she wanted to hear. All he had was the simple truth. "I do not know," he murmured.

Weakened and struggling to keep her eyes open, Hisana squeezed his hand. "I would like to take my convalescence at the estate if it is possible."

He nodded his head. "Understood."

She managed a half-hearted smile in response.

He could tell that she wanted to drift off to sleep, but she did not want to be bad company for him. Soothingly, he stroked the top of her head. "Rest," he stated firmly.

She sighed at his request, and turned her head to face the wall opposite of her husband. "Do I look that bad?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light and conciliatory.

"You do not look well," he answered matter-of-factly.

'Always so honest, Lord Byakuya…' She turned her attention back to her husband. His hand was still firmly clutching hers even though he was reviewing some forms he kept balanced in his lap. She watched him intently for as long as she could stave off the darkness clawing at her mind.

It was not long before she was in a deep sleep. Byakuya could hear her breathing slow and grow heavy. He glanced up from his paperwork, and observed her. The dark circles around her eyes were a deeper shade of grey than before – giving her eyes a sunken look. Her complexion was blanched, and her skin had a waxy appearance. She seemed so frail, so brittle, resting there. Even breathing looked like an overly burdensome endeavor for her poor broken body.

Byakuya shut his eyes for a moment, and leaned into the back of his chair. It had been a long day, and it seemed that the never-ending day was going to bleed into a longer night. He was tired, and his body felt heavy and tense from sitting still in that rickety wooden chair for what felt like eons.

He kept his eyes close and retreated into himself, meditating. Mediation, however, quickly snowballed into slumber. It was a light sleep, though, for the subtle change in the frequency of the monitoring machines lining the room easily roused him.

His eyes snapped open, and he straightened his ever slouching posture in the chair. As he tried to collect his bearings, the papers in his lap went tumbling onto the floor. The moment the forms hit the tiles they made a muffled scratching sound as they scattered. He heaved an uneasy breath as he reached down to gather the papers.

Neatly stacking them on the nearby nightstand, he examined the room. Something had woken him, but what? One of the machines, he noted to himself. Byakuya gave each of the monitors his full attention. Finding nothing amiss, he furrowed his brows and turned his attention to his wife.

Hisana lay on her back, and her head was turned away from him. She looked so uncomfortable and rigid resting there. Her skin was as pale as the sheets that were pulled tightly across her chest, and judging by the temperature of her hand against his, she was suffering a fever.

Byakuya uncoiled his hand from around hers, and he stood bending over her. With a gentle touch, he cupped her cheek in his hand, and guided her head towards him. He leaned down further and pressed his lips firmly against her forehead to take her temperature.

She was burning up. Her skin was slick with sweat.

"Hisana," he called softly, hoping it would wake her.

She remained unresponsive to his voice.

Taking her wrist in his hand, he withdrew from her, and straightened his posture. With a discerning stare he observed her. Her pulse was weak, and she appeared to be having trouble moving air.

Carefully, he placed her hand back down on the bed, and reached for the "Call" button that was situated to the side of the bed's headboard. It took approximately five minutes for a nurse to reach the room. It took only two more minutes for the area to fall into controlled chaos.

- - - -

Byakuya was ushered into a waiting room when the infirmary staff began to pour into his wife's room. He was given no explanation regarding the happenings. There were no updates on her status. Hisana was beyond his reach; her life was completely at the mercy of the Fourth Division shinigami.

This was not an experience he particularly liked.

Byakuya was many things, but helpless was not one of them. He was very proactive when it came to everything: His family, his division, his training. He enjoyed, reveled even, in feeling in control. He was raised to be in control. It was the hardest lesson he had learned from his Grandfather, and to an extent he was still working on being in control of his surroundings.

Right now he was not in control of anything. Well, almost anything, that is. He was still mastering his emotions. At the moment he wasn't feeling much. Shock had set in, numbing everything as it spread from the pit of his stomach to his very thoughts.

Feeling very detached, he sat quietly in a small shrine. How he had gotten to the shrine from the waiting room he knew not. His memory was very blurry, and the specifics had been lost somewhere along the way.

He sat in seiza in front of a small alter. Incense was burning, he noted to himself as the shock began to subside. As the mixture of adrenaline and mental fugue began to wane, he was overwhelmed by a deep tiredness. He felt as if he had been drug behind a cart for a good mile or ten across shards of glass.

"Captain Kuchiki, would you like some tea?"

He stirred, and turned to look at the small orderly standing a few feet from him. She appeared scared senseless, bowed low behind the threshold to the room. Her head hung so low that her face was obscured from his sight.

"Yes." The answer surprised even himself.

The girl immediately lifted her head. Her eyes were bright and large, and she looked excited to be of service. "Yes, sir!" she called.

"My wife – what is her status?" he asked sharply before she had the chance to escape.

The woman lowered her head. "I do not know Lady Kuchiki's condition. I could inquire."

"Inquire," he said tersely before she had the chance to ask the question.

She nodded her head subserviently before taking her leave of him.

It was another hour before he was disturbed again. When the door to the small shrine was opened, however, it was not an orderly that hovered over the threshold to the room. No, it was Captain Unohana that addressed him.

"Lord Kuchiki," she said softly.

Byakuya straightened on hearing her voice. "Captain Unohana," he greeted, turning to face her.

"Go get some rest. You have been up all day and night. You must be exhausted, and you are doing no one any favors staying here."

"How is she?"

Unohana lifted her head, making sure to keep her eyes trained on his. It was not good, he could tell. The sympathetic yet grave look etched into her face confirmed that much.

"Lady Kuchiki is in intensive care right now. She seems to be stabilized for the moment, but her state is very tenuous."

"What is wrong? What is the cause?"

Unohana closed her eyes for a moment, and inhaled a deep breath. "Her spiritual pressure is very weak. Her body is rejecting many of our conventional treatments. We cannot ascertain why. She could have caught something during her travels. Her system may be compromised due to her recent injury."

"What?" Byakuya's brows pulled together. He knew of no recent injury.

"She sustained injuries to her back. You did not know this?"

He averted his piercing gaze to the ground and shook his head.

"Please, go get some rest. It will be some time before she will be allowed visitors, and there is nothing you can do here but worry."

With an abject expression darkening his face, Byakuya reluctantly complied with Unohana's recommendation.

- ---

Hisana was situated in the prone position. Her hospital gown was open, and bending over her was a male nurse. His hands hovered a few inches from the wounds stretching across her back. Whatever he was doing felt immensely unpleasant. Prickles of pain radiated from the lacerations. It felt like a thousand tiny ants were marching underneath her skin in no particular direction.

"Huh," she muttered, growing tired with the treatment.

"Is everything okay, Lady Kuchiki?" he asked kindly.

Bracing her weight on her forearms, Hisana lifted her chest off the bed and acknowledged the nurse. "Is it working?" She realized just how petulant the question sounded, but he had been working on those wounds for the better part of an hour. She could tell the young nurse was becoming fatigued and frustrated. Every now and again she could catch him trembling, or, rather she could see the shadow he made on a nearby wall shutter.

"Um," he murmured, pulling his hands away so he could better examine the injury.

The silence that followed confirmed Hisana's suspicions. "It is painful," she offered, hoping it was enough to induce him to stop.

He nodded his head, and helped tie her hospital gown.

Feeling the nurse finishing the tie on her gown, Hisana turned around, and leaned her back against the incline of the bed.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked, cleaning his supplies.

"Much better," she said trying her best to sound ebullient.

He responded with a warm albeit knowing smile. "That's what we like to hear."

"I poured it on a little thick, no?" She smiled wryly.

He nodded his head. "A little," he teased, "but I understand your desire to be discharged."

"When do you think I'll be able to go home?"

"In a day or two at the most."

A wide grin split her lips at the reply. "That's what you said a week ago," she joked.

"Rest, Lady Hisana," he instructed gently, "and get your strength back, and then we'll see about you leaving."

Hisana nodded her head, and watched him begin out the door.

"I'll be back in a few hours to take your vitals again."

"I know," she sighed.

He bowed politely before leaving.

Hisana relaxed against the pillows of the bed. She had finally been released into one of the standard rooms. It had been her first "good" day. "Good" in this sense, however, was a relative adjective. Specifically, it was the first day that she had been able to maintain consciousness for more than an hour.

She had not seen her husband since her first night in the infirmary. But, as she glanced over at the nightstand, her husband's thoughts were clearly noted for stationed on the bedside furniture was a lovely flower arrangement.

'Bellflowers,' she observed with a lazy smile.

"How are you?"

She startled at the sound of the voice. Her gaze shot over to the door to see her husband standing there. "Lord Byakuya," she murmured breezily.

"You will be discharged tomorrow," he said, drawing close.

She smiled, and lifted her hand out beseechingly for his. "I've missed you."

He took her hand, and shot her an incredulous look. "I don't think you were cognizant enough to miss much," he said sardonically.

"There were moments," she retorted, watching him drag a chair close to her bed.

"I had moments as well," he teased.

"I don't think I've ever seen you joke before, Lord Kuchiki."

He took a seat and then focused his attention on her. "You look like you are feeling better," he said, his voice hitting a more serious note.

"I look better, huh? That's comforting. I feel like hell, though. I'm glad I get to come home tomorrow. However did you manage that one?"

A lopsided grin turned a corner of his mouth upward. "Confidential."

Her lips split into a wide smile. "Coy much?"

He squeezed her hand tight. "Rest. You need your strength."

She nodded her head, and before shutting her eyes she placed her other hand on top of his. "Thank you for everything," she said dreamily.