Her hand was deadweight in his. Only her paper-thin voice let him know she was still alive.
"Promise me, Byakuya," she said. "Promise me you'll find Rukia."
Of course he would find her, but what about him? What was he supposed to do in a world without her?
"Byakuya…" she whispered, and her eyes began to glaze over.
No. No, not this time, please. This might be the truth, but he would deny it with his very being until he could reunite with her at last—
"You should have left her," she said. "Idiot, why didn't you leave her!"
She was no longer dead, and she was no longer visible to him either. Only her voice was present, pressing in on him and crushing the guilt in his chest closer to his core.
"I'm sorry!" he shouted, even as his voice drowned in this nightmare realm. "I tried!"
"YOU FAILED HER. YOU FAILED ME."
Her voice boomed, shaking his very bones.
"Hisana, I—"
"NEVER SEE HER AGAIN."
Drawing in a deep, deep breath, Byakuya's eyes shot open. He was flat on his back, and though the ceiling overhead offered a rigid and familiar sense of stability, it was only after he inhaled several more times that he thought to calm down.
Closing his eyes again, Byakuya let out a low breath, willing his muscles to relax even a bit. I'm sorry, Hisana, he said to the world. I didn't mean to hurt her, I swear it….
He opened his eyes once more to stare at the black of the ceiling. Except, now that his heart was no longer racing and his hands no longer clenching the blanket, the ceiling yielded pink-tinted shadows that had nothing to do with paint or wood. A knowing sensation forming in the back of his mind, Byakuya turned his head to the left: sure enough, his Zanpaku-to was glowing bright pink.
I'm on the engawa, Senbonzakura said quietly.
Byakuya looked to his right, though all he saw was the frosted glass of the windows. December had come in bearing a chill he only appreciated for the ease with which he could relate to it, quite unlike another December where the manor had been filled with the promise of new life and the bliss of two becoming three. But movement through the frost proved Senbonzakura's manifested location, bringing Byakuya right back to the present and all that had happened since Tsukiko was born.
Will you join me? Senbonzakura asked.
If only he could.
Byakuya held out his left hand to take Senbonzakura and, finding the sword with practiced ease, placed it on his right side. He then turned his head away from his Zanpaku-to and closed his eyes.
Moments later, his nightmare picked up right where he had left it.
Loud as Byakuya's night had been—if only for him to hear—it only made sense for the next day to be silent. No wind shook the windows, but the frigidity of early December lingered in the air. No door slammed as people raced inside from the cold, for they were already sheltered.
Most importantly, there was no awful singing from the showers.
Byakuya's lip curled unconsciously as he finished signing the short stack of papers before him. He glanced once at the clock on the wall, and seeing it was just before one, he sped his signature across the bottoms of the last three pages. He slapped the stack down into his outbox before rising from his desk and setting Senbonzakura, who was quiet, at his hip.
Byakuya pulled open the door of his office, the loudest sound in the hallway, and left it open behind him as he approached his lieutenant's office.
A harsh knock was the span of time Renji had to prepare himself, as told by his arms swimming in the sea of papers spread across his desk, trying to bring some sort of organization to the flood Byakuya personally ensured drowned him back into submission.
"Have you finished any of the reports?" Byakuya said quickly, frowning at Renji's attempts at orderliness.
Giving up on stemming the sea of paperwork, Renji sighed before standing up to bow to his captain. "Not yet, sir," he said, "but I will in—"
"I don't understand," Byakuya said, eyeing Renji's desk with distaste. "You are here from nine in the morning to six at night, and yet of the four reports you are expected to have ready by this evening, you have not finished even one. As a reminder, since you so clearly need it, you were assigned these reports two days ago. What could you have possibly been doing other than writing?"
Renji's face burned red in shame, but his narrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw betrayed his real feelings. "My apologies, Captain," he said after a short pause. "I'll have the first report ready within the hour and the rest will follow."
"You best make sure they do." Byakuya grabbed the untidy stack on the desk's upper right corner, where he had decided Renji was to place all the reports and papers that required a captain's signature. "Remember that it is a mercy to keep you in this squad, Abarai. Don't give me reason to remove you from it entirely."
As Byakuya turned to bring the papers back to his own office, Renji cleared his throat. "What now, Abarai?" Byakuya asked without turning around.
"It's, uh, almost one o'clock, sir," Renji said. "You're about to lead the upper Zanjutsu group, right?"
"Someone must, seeing as you're relegated to deskwork."
"Yes, um, well…just a reminder that Matsuo and Sabitsura shouldn't spar together. I don't know why, but they'll take the slightest chance to kill each other—"
"Anything else?" Byakuya said, even as he carefully stowed away this advice.
"N-no, sir…. Have a good training."
Byakuya did not acknowledge the well wishes, letting the slamming of his lieutenant's office door do the speaking for him.
But as the sound echoed down the quiet hallway, Byakuya drooped into himself. Maybe that had been a little harsh.
You really feel bad for disciplining the beast that not just kissed your daughter against your rules, but ruined everything you had arranged for her?
Senbonzakura's voice snapped Byakuya back to attention. Nearly marching back to his office, he returned just long enough to set the papers on his desk before leaving once again, this time to lead the training Renji—stupid, reckless Renji—would ordinarily oversee.
"YOU CALL HIM A BEAST, BUT IT IS YOU WHO ARE THE MONSTER."
Hisana's voice was all-consuming, leaving no room for him to even breathe.
"Please—you—must—believe me!" he shouted between gasps for breath. "Hisana, I—"
"YOU ARE NO MAN, KUCHIKI BYAKUYA."
"I—Hisana—" It was getting harder to breathe, harder to so much as open his mouth.
"YOU ARE A LIAR. YOU ARE SCUM."
He heard himself choke. "Hisana…."
"NEVER SEE HER AGAIN."
With Hisana's words echoing over and over again in his mind, Byakuya sat bolt upright and gasped desperately for air. No matter how much his body heaved, there was no getting air to his lungs until finally, finally, something broke through. Immediately his gasps turned into deep breaths as he regained the ability to exhale, to do anything other than struggle with primitive instinct.
As he readjusted the blanket with shaking hands, Byakuya caught a pink tinge on the white cotton. He glanced once out of the corner of his eye, and though frost once again clouded his view, he saw movement on the engawa.
The moon is beautiful tonight, Senbonzakura said.
Byakuya narrowed his eyes and once again moved his sword from his left side to his right. He turned his head to both of Senbonzakura's manifestations before closing his eyes, returning once more to a gasping, fitful slumber.
The weather was only growing colder, but there was no other space big enough for morning drills than the training field. Other than the ring of clashing swords, the pops and bangs of Kido spells, and the occasional grunt of exertion, the field was quiet as the squad conserved speaking energy for heat.
With Renji still confined indoors, Byakuya had no choice but to endure the silence.
It was illogical, but the silence made it easier to see everything on the field. He hardly needed to squint as he peered through stances and legs, keeping a close eye on his underlings. He barked out an order of caution when drops of blood fell to the ground some distance away. He chastened a poor stance that unnecessarily opened up his nineteenth seat to attack. He found a hidden path known only to him as he weaved over to a Kido caster clearly intent on casting a spell far above her level.
For all these things Byakuya did and saw, he always made sure to leave one corner of the field out of his vision. There was plenty to fix there, of course, but he could not begin to repair what was wrong. He knew he was not welcome to.
And so he kept his gaze firmly away from that corner, right up to when training ended. He gave the order to leave the field, and hardly needing the encouragement, the squad rushed back inside or off to their posts.
Except, Byakuya did not know where to look anymore. He lost track of what he was supposed to ignore in the ebb and flow of the squad.
Taking his chances, Byakuya pushed out ahead of the crowd, flashing forward with a shunpo or two to leave the bulk of the squad.
He did not anticipate this bringing him right beside Tsukiko.
Looking just as startled as he felt, Tsukiko stared at him wide-eyed before something wrangled her expression back into indifference. "Captain," she said respectfully before turning her back to him.
He watched her hurry into the barracks.
He saw her look back at him.
In the silence of the morning, he saw her eyes glisten from more than just the mid-December air.
"I WARNED YOU."
Her voice, again booming in his ears.
"I'm sorry!" he shouted, though he knew not where she was, disoriented as he was by her great voice and the ever-changing void of dreams. "Please, just let me make this better! I will!"
"YOU LET ME DIE AND NOW YOU'RE KILLING HER."
No, there was nothing he could do! "Please, Hisana—!"
"YOU ARE NO MAN."
"N-no, I am, I am! I am—!"
His eyes shot open, and he pulled in air like he would never know it again. Like he really had killed Hisana, even though countless religious leaders, an infinite number of unanswered prayers, and Captain Unohana's firm repetition had told him there was nothing more they could do to keep her in this world.
That did not remove the weight on his chest, and as he squeezed his eyes tight against it, the sensation only bore down harder. He should not have taken no for an answer. He should have been home more for her, especially in the end. He should have been a better husband, a better man—if he was ever one to begin with.
And what about Tsukiko? Was he killing her too? Was it going to be her hand, figurative or not, in his when—
Byakuya forced his eyes open, away from the thought, and saw the ceiling was once again tinged pink. A glance to his right, and through the frosted windows, despite the shadows of snowfall in the night, Senbonzakura stood on the engawa.
Please, Byakuya, Senbonzakura said. His voice was not tender, but nor was it unkind. Join me. In the light.
Byakuya did not join Senbonzakura. He simply couldn't.
Just before he closed his eyes, he touched the glowing Zanpaku-to to his left. It did not hum, nor emit heat, but that did not matter.
The page before him was blank, but his calligraphy brush was at last filled with ink. Careless scratches on scrap paper framed the blank page before him, all attesting to this moment. For the first time in too long, he felt a resolute calm, channeling all his focus into the end of his brush.
For luck, Byakuya dipped the brush once more in the ink, letting it drain of excess before bringing it to the blank page. He inhaled slowly, then with rapid movements laid out the frame of the first character, its straight horizontal and vertical lines that for all their rigidity curved with the smooth carelessness of nature he had honed within himself—
"You look serene, Byakuya-sama."
Byakuya's brush paused halfway through the last stroke of the first character, bleeding a black dot into the middle of his careful calligraphy. Of course it would happen there, right before he was even halfway through the word, its process.
He removed the brush from the page as he unclenched his jaw to speak. "You had to interrupt?" he said.
Ginrei harrumphed where he sat across from his grandson. Their tea was still steaming from when the servant had poured it. "I thought a bit of praise might be appreciated, given the circumstances of late."
A weight like lead landed right on Byakuya's shoulders, and his grip tightened on the brush before he forced it, too, to release. "Your efforts are appreciated, Jii-sama, but in vain."
"Drink." Ginrei gestured with his cup to Byakuya before taking a sip.
Byakuya looked back at the paper before him. The first character was ruined, but maybe the second could be salvaged.
"It will liven you back up, Byakuya-sama. I promise."
Senbonzakura scoffed. What is tea but—
You are not invited to this conversation, Byakuya snapped at him. "I did not realize living was so important here in the afterlife," he told Ginrei.
His grandfather barked out a short, unhumorous laugh. "Then why send Tsukiko-san away?"
Byakuya closed his eyes. He could easily dismiss Ginrei, but that would be childish. That left the option of no response, which he chose as he picked up his brush again and moved on to the second character.
Ginrei cleared his throat. "If you ask me, it is for the best that Tsukiko-san no longer trains with you."
"I thought you wanted her to return to the family," Byakuya said flatly.
"I did, but then I reconciled with how difficult it is to join the Kuchiki clan."
"So you gave up on her. Just say what you mean next time…."
"She has made her decision not to continue contact with us. I know better than to hold my breath—as you seem to be doing."
Byakuya quickly plotted out his next strokes before sending his brush flying across the page. "I have lost her twice now," he said sharply, leaving fat globs of ink in place of elegant lines. "You will forgive me if I do not accept this in a day. In fact, you will do more than that—you will not patronize me for processing this as I am." He slapped the brush back down on the table with a snap and glared at his grandfather. "Do I make myself clear?"
Ginrei's eyes widened before narrowing in deference. "I overstepped my boundaries. My apologies, Byakuya-sama." He bowed his head.
Byakuya looked away. "I tire of this conversation," he said.
Only respect shifted the conversation. "Have a good day, my grandson."
Rising from the table, Byakuya picked up the piece of paper that was supposed to have been perfect. The first character was neat until it wasn't, and the second wasn't so much a character as a waste of valuable ink. Neither was a forgivable attempt. They did not truly form the word reunion.
He dropped the paper from his hand and left the room.
Ginrei was wrong. It may have been hard for Rukia to become a Kuchiki, but she had been adopted. Tsukiko had noble blood in her. With or without the last name, there was no denying she was a Kuchiki.
And that would have to be enough. It would honor her wishes, while sating anything he may have wished for her. For himself.
"WHERE IS YOUR SHAME?"
"It's right here!" he implored. "I'm sorry!"
"YOU HURT OUR DAUGHTER, BYAKUYA."
Yes! He knew that! Didn't she see? "Hisana—"
Suddenly he was bent on his knees, grasping her hand, anchoring her to this world with all his being.
"Please, Byakuya, promise me you'll find her…."
Yes, anything to comfort her, but that didn't mean this was the end. She would just fall asleep, and as soon as she woke up—
"Byakuya…."
She had to wake up, the weight in his hand was temporary, she would wake up, she had to wake up, he could not do this alone, Tsukiko needed even one dependable parent, they needed her, Hisana, Hisana—!
"Open your eyes this instant, Byakuya!"
His eyes flew open, but vision was not his. He closed his eyes again, where the impression of Hisana's corpse was still so fresh—
"Open, Byakuya!"
Byakuya did as told, and though he still could not see, he kept his eyes open. He was flat on his back, and the ceiling he expected to see had been replaced by an inky black void. His hands clawed at the blankets to orient himself, but they only found dewy grass. His heart began to pound for a very different reason than it had started, but a sense of familiarity slowly pushed into his consciousness, and his hands released the grass as he realized where he was.
Senbonzakura sighed somewhere to his right, exasperated. "This is getting out of hand, Byakuya," he said.
Byakuya closed his eyes in exhaustion. "I hadn't noticed," he mumbled. He carefully sat up from the ground, his heart still beating hard. He glanced up at the dark sky of his inner world, though he quickly looked away when he grew dizzy. The moon was firmly set to new, and without its guiding light, there was no distinguishing the black sky from the black ground. Only the feel of the grass on his hands let him know where he was.
Senbonzakura's light footsteps approached him, stopping a hesitant distance away. "I don't suppose there's a spell that will give us light?" he asked, his tone somewhere between flat and weary.
Byakuya held up his palm. "Hado thirty-one," he said, channeling his reiatsu into his palm. "Shakkaho."
Instantly, a large red orb of energy rose from his palm, and both he and Senbonzakura flinched away from the sudden illumination. Byakuya still managed to maintain focus enough to push the orb in front of them, keeping a tight clamp on the Kido's release.
Beside him, Senbonzakura sighed as his eyes adjusted. "At last," he said.
Byakuya did not respond, busy as he was looking around. The darkness was still too pressing for the Kido to overcome in full, but it was a relief to see even the red-tinged grass and Senbonzakura's bare face—
"Why do you look at me so?" Byakuya said. Any relief he'd felt at the light was chased away by Senbonzakura's stern gaze.
"It's been three weeks, Byakuya," Senbonzakura said.
Byakuya looked away, remembering too well the nightmare he'd been taken from. "You mean to corner me, I see."
"As I said, it has been three weeks, and in that time, you alone have had the choice of light."
Byakuya glanced at the moonless sky. "Hence the manifestations," he said.
Senbonzakura nodded. "Hence the moon gazing." He shook his head. "This can't continue, Byakuya. I won't have this darkness persist."
"I regret to inform you this is out of my hands." Byakuya kneaded the blades of grass between his fingertips.
Senbonzakura scoffed. "No, 'this' is in your hands, but you refuse to acknowledge it."
"I have acknowledged it, and I have let it go." Byakuya looked at Senbonzakura. "Tsukiko has said two words to me since I told her the truth. She has made it clear what she chose to do about the situation, and—"
"And nothing!" Senbonzakura shouted. As if catching himself, he let out a low exhale, and when he spoke again, his voice was almost a whisper. "You let Tsukiko do as she desires, but what about what you really want? Look around, Byakuya." He gestured to the darkness biting at the Kido's limits. "You want to reestablish contact with her. You cannot deny it."
"I haven't tried to," Byakuya said. He simply ignored it.
"Then why do you leave me in this world? You know there are no stars here. I need the moon."
"You can gaze at the one in the Soul Society. You have."
"And when it is day?" Senbonzakura growled. "What about when that moon is new? What if I do not want to manifest anytime I want to so much as see where I step? Byakuya." Senbonzakura shook his head. "Do you know how frequently the moon disappears from this place?"
Byakuya closed his eyes. "I'm afraid not," he said quietly.
"It's happened once before, Byakuya. You might argue the rarity of this event, but you must understand that when there is no moon, there is nothing else to take its place. That leaves me without sight, and when I cannot see, neither can you." He let out a rough, deep sigh. "I'm…terrified that your sense of duty will pull you from even our conversations. We speak now, but staying in this darkness, alone…." He shook his head. "…The first time, it wasn't until you found Rukia that I saw light again, or that you addressed me."
Byakuya closed his eyes, shutting out even their meager light. He would never forget what had happened after Hisana's death. Strive as he might have to distract himself during the day, he remembered everything all too well once the sun went down. The nightmares of the last three weeks were proof enough that nothing had changed.
His voice quiet and quieter yet in the darkness, Byakuya dared to look at Senbonzakura. "I know better than to promise you I will return the light to this place, but I can assure you that you will not be alone in this darkness. Not this time."
Senbonzakura glanced at him, his face entirely uncertain. "But you will not bring back the moon?"
Byakuya shook his head. "You know what I wish, but that must remain internal. Until Tsukiko approaches me, I won't make my choice external. That is unfair to her."
Senbonzakura pointed to himself. "And it is unfair to me to keep your desires internal. Why do you think I brought you here, Byakuya? You choose to ignore the problem, but I always see it."
Byakuya looked away. "And my dreams aren't enough of a reminder?"
"That's unconscious. Be conscious about this, Byakuya."
"I can't—"
"Stop." Senbonzakura held up his hand. "I should have known better than to pursue this further." He looked to the moonless sky. "You might like it," Senbonzakura said after a pause, his tone bitter, "but I despise the darkness. I might even fear it." He rapidly stood. "Fix this, Byakuya. Make this right—actually make this right."
Byakuya looked anywhere but at Senbonzakura. "…Perhaps I'll meet with—"
"Fix it yourself, Byakuya," Senbonzakura said firmly. "Tsukiko only has one parent, and that is you."
"You seem rather invested in her yourself—"
"Because I am you. And don't you ever forget that."
His hands clenching into fists just once, Byakuya glanced at the Kido spell hovering in the air. With a push of his reiatsu, he sent it flying into the darkness, where it finally exploded. He closed his eyes as he left his inner world but didn't open them even when he felt himself return to the warmth of his futon. It made it easier to return to the nightmare he could not avoid.
A/N: Thanks for the patience, everyone. This chapter kicked my ass to hell and back.