It was suddenly the start of a new year, but nothing other than the numbers on the calendar had truly changed. The sun was still weak, Renji was still slogging through the entire squad's paperwork, and Byakuya's nightmares were still jolting him awake each night. He woke again each morning to sore, drooping eyes and his shoulders tense, never mind the internal matters. Senbonzakura was still hesitant in their interactions, but Byakuya had stayed true to his promise and made sure their line of communication was always open; he couldn't rely on anything else to help him feel sane.

At the very least, the squad had shaken off the collective New Year's hangover and settled back into expectation, or as Byakuya saw it, dependency. There were certainly holes in the usual routine now with Renji handling the administrative matters, but those were easy enough to fill with elite training sessions and correspondences with other captains. Nor was Byakuya above bringing Kuchiki affairs to the office. Whatever it took to keep him from thinking too much.

Except, one afternoon brought about a particularly chatty Senbonzakura, demanding Byakuya indeed think. A demonstration earlier in the day had rendered Senbonzakura the sword a shade under immaculate, and Senbonzakura the spirit was taking the opportunity to talk.

You give me much attention, Senbonzakura said with unconvincing nonchalance.

This spot won't buff itself out, so yes, I do, Byakuya tilted his Zanpaku-to, inspecting the metal.

Your dedication is admirable, Senbonzakura continued. I imagine it would be this way if applied beyond me.

Byakuya pursed his lips before letting the gesture go. It is but a matter of knowing there are expectations to maintain, whether that be your appearance or some other matter.

You should know not to put your all into one task, though. A wave of Senbonzakura's cynicism overcame him. Variety is the spice of life and all that, and goodness knows you could break from those "expectations" of yours.

Hmph. Byakuya scrutinized the blade one last time, and blissfully all the blemishes and dust particles were gone from the gleaming metal. He set the sword on his desk to dry, then rebottled the polish and folded the cleaning cloth so the stained side was hidden. He set the cleaning supplies in a drawer on the right side of his desk, but then there was a problem: the drawer wouldn't close.

Well don't force it now, Senbonzakura said with an audible smirk. You must be patient.

Frowning, Byakuya slowly slid the drawer out and back in again, but the last bit of track seemed to be obstructed. He reached for the drawer just under the one that refused to close, but as soon as he opened it, he wished he weren't even in his office anymore: while the gold tissue paper was crushed where it had been caught in the above drawer's track and the handles were similarly mangled, the maroon bag containing Tsukiko's birthday gift was just as he had left it a month and a half ago.

Blissfully, Senbonzakura stayed quiet.

Byakuya stared at the gift as his heart pounded. It couldn't stay in the drawer. Nor could he simply give it to Tsukiko. "Simple" was too foreign a concept, otherwise he would not be in this dilemma right now. But it wasn't an option to bring it back to the manor, or dispose of it, or even give it to the family temple. He couldn't risk hearing this rin ring.

Carefully laying the bag on its side so it would no longer catch in the above drawer's track, Byakuya closed the drawer. Perhaps the rin would have to stay.

Byakuya looked back to the surface of his desk. It was barren save for Senbonzakura, which he promptly sheathed and set in the sword stand behind him. Now there was truly nothing to distract him.

A sign, Senbonzakura said quietly, his cynicism now gone.

Perhaps the universe was listening and merciful, for Byakuya heard a knock on his office door and the muffled sound of Renji clearing his throat in the hall. He might be an idiot, among other things, but Renji did have his uses.

"Enter, Abarai," Byakuya said, pulling forward a sheet of paper and pen to demonstrate he had not been brooding again.

Renji promptly opened the door, carrying a small stack of paperwork in his hand. He bowed once as he entered the office proper and set the stack on Byakuya's desk. "That's the last of it from this morning," he said.

Byakuya reached for the first sheet of paper and skimmed it: a memo intended for the captain-commander about the state of the squad's barracks, which of course were nothing less than perfect. It would do.

"Your kanji is atrocious," Byakuya said as he set the memo in front of him. "But I suppose it's too late to correct that."

Renji turned red and looked away. "Sorry, Captain," he said. "I'll redo it—"

"Forgive me, but I only trust you with ruining it further," Byakuya said, his tone reflective of just how little he cared for Renji's forgiveness. "I will handle it myself. Have you taken your break yet?"

This perked Renji up, and he looked at Byakuya with bright eyes. "I was actually about to ask if I could."

"Go." Byakuya moved the memo to reveal the blank sheet of paper he now had a true use for. "You have exactly one hour. Remember that."

Renji bowed. "Thank you, sir." He turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Byakuya huffed as he reviewed the memo more thoroughly. The daily, hour-long breaks he'd decided to subtract from Renji's punishment had certainly helped his productivity, but they'd done nothing for the quality of the paperwork he turned in for review. It seemed with each paper he wrote, Renji's characters worsened, and already Captain Soi Fon had sent Byakuya a rather snarky message about a hiragana mistake that made an unfortunate suggestion about where Squad Six had sent a budget confirmation. Since Byakuya should have been the one to complete that report, he was of course blamed. Perhaps it was time to release Renji for good—not that any punishment would truly be sufficient for his…actions.

Just as Byakuya finished rewriting the first line of the memo, another knock came on his door. "I don't need confirmation you're leaving, Abarai," he called out.

"It's not the lieutenant. Sir."

Byakuya's pen froze in place, and he glanced up at the door. He extended a slim strand of reiatsu through the wall, and sure enough, the presence matched the voice. "You may come in," he said quietly, lowering his pen.

There was a slight pause before Tsukiko did as directed and entered his office. Byakuya examined her facial features, but her emotions were locked up tight. So tight, in fact, that he could not read anything from her expression. Instead, he had the feeling he had accidentally taught her a family trick, for only a Kuchiki could narrow their eyes that smoothly, keep their shoulders that level, betray absolutely nothing of what they were thinking.

Tsukiko blinked once before bowing to him. "Do you have a moment to talk?" she asked.

Byakuya nodded at the chair in front of his desk.

Tsukiko's stepped evenly to the chair and sat. Not even her hands shook as she moved the chair; the girl was a natural.

"What would you like to discuss?" Byakuya asked, smoothly moving the memo to the side.

Tsukiko glanced at him. "I've been thinking," she said evenly, "about my place in Squad Six."

Byakuya did not move.

"In all that, I've come to the conclusion that I don't actually have a place in the squad anymore. Which is to say, I formally request a transfer."

He'd seen it coming a mile away. He hadn't quite known when it would hit, but it had been inevitable. Except, for all his dwelling on this possibility, acceptance was not his. Hearing it was always different than simply thinking about it. Let Tsukiko go, just like that? Even for all he'd said about following her lead? He couldn't…not without a fight, anyway.

Somewhere inside him, Senbonzakura hummed.

Byakuya lightly tossed his head and laced his fingers together, the very image of nonchalance. Or maybe this was to be a masterclass on the art of reservation. "Please explain your reasoning," he said to Tsukiko. "Indeed, the usual reason behind a squad transfer is the inability of the Shinigami's current squad to support them in their pursuits, which some, such as you, might refer to as leaving the Shinigami with no place in their squad. However, by all accounts, you are excelling here. Your Kido has grown more powerful, your Hakuda is more than sufficient, and I personally can vouch for your sword meditation attempts." Byakuya narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "In other words, your place in Squad Six is as present as ever."

As he spoke, Tsukiko still did not betray her true thoughts, nor when she responded after a moment of collection. "I'm afraid you and I have different interpretations of the matter, sir," she said. "I agree that I have grown a lot in Squad Six, but it's not a matter of what I can do as a Shinigami under your and Lieutenant Abarai's leadership." Her shoulders slightly rose and her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. "It is the nature of my relationships with you two."

Byakuya immediately frowned, masterclass be damned. "I surely don't need to remind you of the consequences should you and Lieutenant Abarai still be pursuing a non-professional relationship."

The fastest cringe crossed Tsukiko's face before she wrangled it back in, though an uncontrollable blush colored her cheeks. "Captain, I guarantee that is something you do not need to worry about." She looked away. "Even so, given the…past events with the lieutenant, I do not consider it prudent to remain under his authority."

Byakuya's interlaced fingers tightened around each other. "I still fail to see the problem. If you and Lieutenant Abarai have truly returned to an appropriate lieutenant–subordinate relationship, then there is nothing of concern. You do not need to transfer from Squad Six."

As much effort as she'd put into constructing her Kuchiki shield, Tsukiko's face fell just enough to show her impatience. While it did not cross into full insubordination, it was right at the border. To which Byakuya said nothing—at least, not yet.

"I will be blunt," Tsukiko said. "The biggest driver of my decision is simply the fact that I don't trust either of my superiors, especially my captain." Her eyes narrowed. "Not because of who he is as a Shinigami, but who he is as a person."

A thousand punishments came to Byakuya's mind for this cross into disrespect. This was not permissible behavior from one of his underlings…but no other underling of his was his child. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but it should not affect our professional relationship," Byakuya said with a frown. "Shinigami are not expected to be close friends with their captains."

"No, but that is how I feel," Tsukiko said quickly. "And I would appreciate it if you respected that."

"I do respect how you feel," Byakuya said, "but you must understand that a lack of trust is not enough to warrant a squad transfer. If it were, Squad Twelve's barracks would be barren. Transfer requests are reserved for genuine disputes between subordinates and superiors, or to acknowledge that a squad member's talents are best suited in another squad."

And so the shield came crumbling down. "There is a genuine dispute between a subordinate and her superiors," Tsukiko said forcefully. "You lied to me about something incredibly important, and now I can hardly look at you without feeling sick to my stomach. I dread encountering a problem in the squad that forces me to meet with you—"

"I never lied to you about anything. Ever."

"Well maybe not verbally, but you made it abundantly clear through your actions that you don't have any trouble keeping the truth from me."

Byakuya's eyes narrowed. "I have told you, Tsukiko, that was for your benefit."

"Then why bother keeping me in the squad? It might have been a coincidence that I wound up on your roster, but why not send me away again if it was truly to my benefit?"

"I do not deny your squad assignment was a coincidence, but you stayed because I wanted you here," Byakuya said. "Do you know how easy it would have been for me to transfer you out if I truly didn't want you back?"

"Then why make such a big deal about transferring me now?" Tsukiko's eyes widened in her frustration. She pointed to the pen on the desk. "You say it's so easy? Then sign the transfer form and save me the agony of dealing with you."

Byakuya glared at her. "You test me, Tsukiko—"

"Oh, I am so sorry," Tsukiko said, rolling her eyes and bowing her head sarcastically. "How dare I offend the man who abandoned me and now pretends like it's something I should've forgiven yesterday—"

Byakuya leaned forward over his desk, and Tsukiko, immediately rendered silent, flinched away from him. He pushed down the guilt at her recoiling. "Enough," he said. "But I will admit that you are right about one thing." He hesitated. "…I am making a simple matter far more complicated than necessary."

Tsukiko looked up at him with angry, uncertain eyes, but she did not respond.

Byakuya felt his brow loosen, his frown deepen. "If this conversation has proven anything, it is that there is unfinished business between us. You will forgive me in wanting to keep you so as to give you the opportunity to help us finish it."

Tsukiko's eyes widened again. Her mouth conveyed shock, but there was still a tightness to her lips. An anger. At him. And then her eyes slowly began to narrow, and her lip curled into a sneer he'd only ever felt before, on his own mouth.

She really was a Kuchiki.

"Weak," Tsukiko almost whispered. Her hands clenched into fists. "You are weak, Captain Kuchiki, and you are heartless."

The accusation sent a jolt through Byakuya's chest. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me just fine," Tsukiko growled in that same low tone. "You only want to keep me here to make yourself feel better. Like you've done all along." She leaned forward. "Would it kill you to let me go? Would it ruin you to grant me that one, stupid little mercy?"

He let out a short sigh. "You are not even aware of how many mercies I have granted you, Tsukiko. Do not accuse me of ruthlessness."

"Oh, right, because getting rid of me was a 'mercy,' how dare I misconstrue that."

"Yes, Tsukiko, as I have said before and will say again," Byakuya said forcefully. "I could not give you the family life you deserved. Only without me would you have even a taste of a decent family—"

"Right there!" Tsukiko shouted, pointing right at him. "You're acknowledging exactly what I'm saying! You're no longer my family, so why keep me in your squad? Just admit that you were wrong!"

"Not when there is an opportunity for you to understand the situation," Byakuya said, nearly raising his voice himself.

"How many times do I have to say it?" Tsukiko shouted, standing quickly and knocking over her chair. "I already understand, and it is you who doesn't!" She began to pace the room, gesturing with her arms. "It's like talking to a wall with you. A stubborn, selfish wall that's never done a damn thing in its life for someone else!"

Something flashed in Byakuya's mind, then, of his split second decision to send Rukia and Renji to Hueco Mundo to fight at Ichigo's side, of the day he was told Rukia had been found, of the moment he told Hisana she was coming home with him, of the day he squeezed Tsukiko's small hand for what he forced himself to call the last time.

"Anger does not equate knowledge, Tsukiko," Byakuya said quietly, dangerously. "You speak big for someone who was not even cognizant when I made certain decisions. You act as if you bore witness to all I've done for you when you could hardly walk."

"It doesn't matter what I saw then. I've seen enough now."

"You don't know the definition of 'enough'—"

Tsukiko held up her hands, where they trembled in the air. But it wasn't just her hands now: it was all of her. "Fine, Captain, I give up!" Tsukiko shouted. She abruptly dropped her hands. "You're the boss here and won't let me win for whatever forsaken reason of yours. Maybe you just need to win so you can finally feel good about something since your life has been just so hard. But I'm not about to pity you for that. Not when you make yourself so pathetic."

Byakuya glared at her. "And, dare I ask, how have I 'made' myself pathetic?"

Tsukiko slowly shook her head. "You couldn't even stand to keep me around after my mother died. If you really cared about her, never mind me, you would have kept the one thing she managed to give you before she died."

He was moving. Quickly. Faster than he had time to recognize what he was doing. In an instant he'd yanked open a drawer on the left side of his desk, leaving it open after he pulled out the form. With the speed known only to the furious, he signed his name in all the right spots and, in the box labeled "Reasoning," he scrawled "inability to receive or offer anything of value."

The transfer request thus signed, Byakuya tossed it from his desk, where it floated to the ground and landed right between him and Tsukiko.

"Get out of my sight," he said, pulling Renji's memo back toward him.

With trembling legs and wide eyes, Tsukiko slowly walked forward and kneeled down to pick up the form. Just as slowly, she stood back up and looked at its contents.

"I said out," Byakuya barked, staring firmly at the memo.

Nearly tripping over the chair she'd knocked over, Tsukiko rushed out of the office, leaving the door wide open so there was nothing between the patter of her feet racing away and Byakuya's ears.

Soft as the sound was, it was loud enough to break whatever was suspending him in fury, and into himself he collapsed.

What have I done? Byakuya said to Senbonzakura, even though he knew exactly what. What did I just do?

Something was booming in Byakuya's ears, but its source was a mystery. Except, not entirely. Because there was something growing in his chest, too, that wasn't his own. It pushed at his guilt until maybe this growing sensation was his.

You are a coward, Kuchiki Byakuya, Senbonzakura spat as his disbelieving anger loomed around him. You can fight her all you want, but Tsukiko will always be right about that.

Byakuya raised a hand to his head, covering his eyes. How do I fix it? What do I do now? Tell me, please tell me.

Oh no. You're not getting another word out of me.

Senbonzakura?

Senbonzakura?

…So this was it, then. The silence Senbonzakura feared so much. The darkness that ate him alive and drove him to manifest on the engawa.

But…he was still right. He had been right all along, no matter Senbonzakura's claims otherwise. Tsukiko didn't need him any more than she needed a broken limb or a missing purpose. He had nothing more to offer the daughter who he wanted nothing more than to give the world to.

Byakuya slowly rubbed his hand down his face before reaching into his shihakusho. He pulled his soul pager from his pocket, unlocked the screen, and dialed.

He was two rings from voicemail when the call was answered. "I just got my food," Renji said through a bite of his lunch. "I'll be back in—"

"Shut up and listen to me," Byakuya said sharply. "You will receive a transfer request from a certain squad member in the coming weeks, if not days. You are personally responsible for getting it to the appropriate destination. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes…" Renji said. "Captain, who—"

"You have a brain, Abarai, use it for once in your miserable life." Byakuya pulled the soul pager from his ear and rapidly tapped the screen until the call was over. And then he lay the pager on his desk.

Senbonzakura, please, he said quietly.

There was no answer. Not even the echo of his own voice.