Byakuya's sword narrowly missed the moon's light as he practices thrusts and parries and counter strike maneuvers faster than the eye could see. It was unusual for him to practice at this time of night- at the witching hour. Normally when sleep escaped his grasp, he considers a walk in the gardens to quiet his mind down enough to relax; feeling the cool kiss of the night air provided solace, a welcome break in the chain of events that is his life. He lunged, throwing his body forward at an invisible foe, his sword an extension of his arm wielded in battles so many times over the countless years, cutting down enemies like wheat. Sweat trickle down his back, dotting his skin like an embrace; how long has he one of those? An embrace that is? The thought angered him uncomfortably, provoking a muttered curse under his breath for allowing his mind to go astray with unnecessary things. His invisible opponent (s) likely more than one; not more than a handful over his long life had ever proven worthy enough to be memorable, received a good five minutes of savagely elegant death strikes for his mind's temerity.
My mind and my body conspiring against me. He thought sourly, heaving for breath and unsatisfied for all this training seemed pointless; fruitless now even though, at the time, it was the logical course. Byakuya knew that he could go more until the morning if needs be but its all fruitless. It's not what he wanted.
What i want is immaterial, always has been. His sound argument was helping to ground his teeth together and setting the muscles in his jaw to dance as to a jig.
"Enough of this," He told himself testily before quitting Kuchiki gardens, flash stepping to his manor apartments heading straight for his private bathing chamber leaving watch of moon's silver eye. Annoying himself with things that had nothing to do with his duty was irresponsible. Feelings and emotions and dreams were a fool's bread and butter, not the sort of things a member- much less the head of the Kuchiki clan- should entertain. Best put them away.
Admittedly, he wasn't an expert conversationist in the best of times. A man of action and deep thinking, Byakuya focus on his breakfast plate and the contents and not across from his seat where his adoptive sister was picking at her food.
About an hour before the sun was scheduled to peak over the horizon, and three hours after he put down his sword, dark clouds gathered in the sky changing the scent on the wind to rain. Fat drops fell soon after and now there was a downpour blessing the plants and trees, filling the ponds of the Koi fish, making music on the rooftops.
"Big brother," Rukia spoke for the first time since sitting down. It was annoying and distracting when she talked to him. When she called him that.. but it was expected and he'd long ago accepted her as his sister- as his charge.
"What is it, Rukia?" Byakuya replied making his voice as even as he could, detached. It's unfair to blame her for his shortcomings. His thoughts were not provoked by this girl-woman. That's right, she's a woman now and a proud shinigami. Rukia is strong of will and of mind. So strong, so ...
"I'll leave for a special mission in the World Of The Living," she related straight-forward and to the point. There wasn't a hint of hesitation in her bearing, where there was before, it seemed to have vanished. He was to blame for lack of confidence and he still hates himself for his stupidity and the social distancing between them.
" The World Of The Living, I see." He remarked lamely, ignoring this- where the hell is this churning anger coming from and for what? "Rukia, it is not imprudent to be late for your duties," Byakuya rose from his seat, putting on his best conversation killing voice. He dared not name this feeling not out of anything else but pure disgust with himself.
"Of course, Big brother," Rukia said quickly rising from her chair and bowing as he left.
This was unacceptable. Disgraceful and disturbing. A look started all of this then a dream then his contemplations led him into this state. He should have been more careful.
"Curses!" he swore under his breath when he was alone which of course was never. The walls had eyes and ears aplenty and his character was always under scrutiny. He was no ordinary man, true. But that didn't mean he wasn't sorely tempted despite his carefully constructed demeanor.