Verse: 'Half-Canon'.
What the hell was going on?
Shirogane Ginjirō arched a brow as several Shinigami sprinted past him along the street, some of them utilising Flash Step to get away. He halted in his tracks and spun around, scanning the road behind him.
More Shinigami emerged, their faces a dismal chalky colour. Shirogane shifted obligingly aside to let them pass, and despite the pressing pile of paperwork awaiting him at the Sixth Division Barracks, stayed where he was, unable to help his curiosity about the commotion.
The reason for it soon revealed itself in the form of a raven-haired girl walking towards him. There was not the slightest trace of emotion in her blank face despite the mayhem around her, and Shirogane noticed that she was carrying a tray laden with animal-shaped cookies.
He winced. It appeared the Twelfth Division was in the midst of a new experiment, and was on the hunt for unsuspecting lab rats. Hurriedly the Vice-Captain turned on his heel and took off after the others using Flash Step. Kurotsuchi Nemu could be rather… persuasive, and the last thing Shirogane wanted was to ingest any of those cursed cookies.
Who knew what kind of poison they were laced with?
Quickening his pace, he made a mental note to broadcast an announcement to the Sixth Division warning them about Nemu. They had a long day ahead of them, and he didn't need any of his men spending it in the form of rats or whatever animal the poison might reduce them to.
Whatever it entailed, it was a fate he would not wish on his worst enemy.
It was warm.
Stiflingly warm.
She cracked her lids open, feeling disoriented and confused. A pale expanse of fabric encompassed her vision, the weight of it falling across her face. Her brain felt sluggish, and she struggled to make sense of her surroundings.
She'd returned to the Kuchiki Manor tired. She remembered that much. Akari had prepared a hot bath for her, and after that Hisana had changed into her hadajuban and decided to lie down for the rest of the afternoon. It had taken her mere minutes to fall asleep, and now she had no idea how long she'd been out for.
The fabric was surprisingly heavy, almost to the point of suffocation. She squirmed drowsily under the cotton sheets, trying to disentangle herself from them. Something felt off, but she couldn't figure out why. She wriggled harder, maneuvering her body until she was sliding through an opening in the layers of cotton.
Fresh air hit her face, but the strange disorientation remained. The dimensions of her room seemed to have altered. Her surroundings appeared larger, as if she'd shrunk—the shoji screens loomed over her, and the wooden beams of the high ceiling appeared much, much further away, to the point that she had to tilt her head all the way back to see them.
What was going on? Was she still dreaming? Surely that had to be the only explanation. Feeling increasingly bewildered, she twisted around to get a good look at the cotton that had enveloped her before. It hadn't felt like the fabric of her comforter. It felt like…
The air froze in her throat. Spread loosely on the futon was the outline of her hadajuban, only it appeared a hundred sizes larger. She could positively drown in the endless sea of cotton.
What the hell was going on? What kind of nightmare was she having? She needed to wake up. Desperate to get back to reality, she squeezed her eyes shut and counted the seconds in her head.
Once she hit ten, she opened them again, hoping for normalcy to restore itself.
Her hopes were in vain. The walls and ceiling still felt impossibly enormous, and the futon, too, fanned out like a sterile white island all around her. She looked down at herself, a foreboding sensation welling in her chest.
Her blood turned to ice.
What she was seeing couldn't be real. This was just a warped, fantastical dream. Any minute now, and she'd wake up. She had to.
A gentle breeze rattled the shoji screens of the room. She stayed deathly still, waiting with bated breath for the nightmare to end. Her hysteria, however, continued to grow until it proved too much for her, and she lurched in a graceless pile of limbs across the futon. Unable to stand, she crawled weakly onto the tatami floor and towards the kyodai dressing mirror on the other end of the room.
To her dismay, the antique wooden vanity had mysteriously burgeoned in size too, and she panted as she heaved her shrunken frame over the table to catch a glimpse of the mirror. She was trembling all over, and she prayed desperately that what she'd seen earlier wasn't real.
Time slowed until it ground into limbo. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. All she could do was peer in disbelief at the mirrored glass.
A tiny white-furred cat stared back at her. It was the size of a kitten, with large, expressive violet pools for eyes and a cherubic flat face framed by little droopy snow-white ears. The shock she felt was clearly reflected in its wide, enormous eyes, and she let out a petrified sound before toppling from the edge of the vanity table back onto the tatami floor.
The sound she'd made, Hisana realised, had been a mewl.
She didn't understand what was happening. Was the kitten in the mirror supposed to be her? But that made no sense. What kind of dream was this? Was it because she'd been thinking about Shihōin Yoruichi before she'd gone to sleep?
But why wouldn't the dream end? It felt like it was going on forever, with no end in sight. She was scared. She hated how impossibly small she'd become, and how defenseless it made her feel. She'd always considered herself petite, but this was a whole other definition of tiny.
In proportion to her usual size, she was abnormally small as a feline, too. Her dream, far-fetched as it was, appeared to operate on some kind of twisted logic.
It didn't matter. None of this would matter once she awakened. She couldn't possibly nap for so long. Soon enough Akari would wake her up for dinner, and everything would go back to normal. Her husband would be returning home any time now. He—
She felt cold inside. The sun had set, made evident by the lit floor lamps casting the bedchamber in a dusky tangerine glow. It was part of Akari's evening routine to turn them on in this room. She must have done so while Hisana had been asleep on the futon moments ago.
She couldn't deny that her dream felt uncannily real. If not for her bizarre transformation, she would have almost believed she was awake. If she was, it meant Akari would be back, and more importantly—that her husband's return was imminent.
What would happen to her then? The household was absolutely intolerant of stray cats. That was what Hisana would be viewed as should she be discovered in this state. It was well-established among the servants that the Kuchiki Head detested felines, and they would do everything in their power to keep them out of his sight.
Hisana would be chased out of the Kuchiki Manor onto the streets. She had never left the estate before at night. Where could she go? Even if this was a dream, the prospect of being stranded and homeless terrified her.
She didn't waste any more time dwelling on how outlandish her predicament was. She was way past that now. What she needed was to find somewhere to hide. Given how tiny she was, she was certain she'd be able to find some crevice in the closet to cram herself into. The problem was opening the closet door. Without normal human hands, she doubted it would be easy.
Still, she was determined to try, and she crawled across the room on unsteady paws, unused to walking on all fours. The mountainous closet was on the other side of her futon, and she was sure she'd be able to find a hiding spot between all the clothes that were kept there. A soft sound caught her attention, and she froze. Muted footfalls followed on the other side of the shoji doors, and she barely held back a mewl of panic as she sped up across the futon.
It was too late.
She heard the door slide open, and on a desperate, mindless whim, Hisana burrowed herself under the comforter. She held her breath, willing herself not to make a sound despite knowing how pathetically flimsy her hiding spot was.
"Hisana-sama?" Akari's voice sounded mystified.
The footsteps grew louder until Hisana knew Akari was standing right by the futon. She kept herself curled in a tight ball under the thick comforter, not daring to move so much as an inch. This time, she was grateful for how much she had shrunk.
The footsteps softened as Akari moved away, and Hisana heard the rustle of the sliding door opening on her right, towards where the bathroom was. Akari called her name again, and Hisana grimaced inwardly. How was she supposed to explain her disappearance to the household?
Wake up, she begged, shutting her eyes. Please, let me wake up already.
The footsteps returned towards the futon, and Hisana felt her heart sink. What she heard next nearly had her choking on her breath.
"I—I don't know what's going on, Byakuya-sama," Akari stammered. "I saw Hisana-sama asleep just half an hour ago. I don't know where she could have gone."
Seike Nobutsune's hoarse voice sounded. "Is Hisana-sama not in the bath?"
"No, Seike-san." Akari was distraught. "Should I search the gardens? Perhaps Hisana-sama left to take a walk."
Silence followed. Hisana didn't hear anyone speak, and she suspected they were waiting for assent from the Head of the House. Her heart was thudding so rapidly she wondered if the whole room could hear it.
When was this dream going to end? Her husband was home. He was standing right there in the same room, and she couldn't even greet him. For the first time, she was actually frightened to see him. She couldn't be discovered like this. She was literally in the form of what he despised most.
The tatami floor creaked, but the measured footfalls that approached the futon were different this time—they were quieter, more deliberate; more unhurried. Hisana knew instinctively that they did not belong to Akari, and she shivered.
Why wasn't he saying anything? If he gave the servants permission to search the gardens, he'd buy her more time. She was feeling terribly cornered with all three of them in the same room. If only they would leave for just a few seconds—that was all she'd need to dash for the closet and find herself a better hiding place than this.
"Byakuya-sama?" Akari said, sounding uncertain as the quiet footfalls stopped by the futon.
Cold air rushed across Hisana's fur, and she recoiled, shocked at the sudden sensation. The comforter was gone, and it took her a split second to realise that it had been stripped from the bedding, leaving her completely exposed. She was so shocked that for a fleeting moment, she had no idea how to react.
She simply lay huddled in a furry white ball on the mattress, too dumbstruck to move.
A horrified gasp rang out, and Hisana saw Akari, who loomed like a giant above her, with both hands over her mouth. The disbelieving, aghast expression on the handmaid's profile was clear as day.
"B—Byakuya-sama," she croaked, the colour draining from her complexion. "I—I'm sorry. I had no idea—" She bent down and hastily scooped Hisana into her arms, ignoring her mistress' mewl of shock from being abruptly lifted to the air. "I don't know how a cat got in here, I—"
Hisana mewled again, this time out of panic. She was so much tinier in her current state that she felt lightheaded from being suspended several feet above the ground. It was terrifying being this high up, and she kneaded her milk-white paws desperately against Akari's forearms, wanting to hold on in case the girl dropped her.
"I'll bring the cat out immediately, Byakuya-sama," Akari said emphatically. "I apologise for the mishap."
Hisana's throat closed up as a fresh wave of terror overcame her. It was just as she feared. She was going to be chased out to the streets, and there was nothing she could do about it. Where could she even go? She had no way of proving her identity. Her transformation was unbelievable even to herself, let alone to anyone else.
She turned her furry head around from where she was held in Akari's arms, mewling plaintively. The hunched figure of Seike stood at the foot of the futon, his silvery brows furrowed behind his round glasses. What captured Hisana's attention, however, was the man rising silently by the side of the futon, the cotton slip of her hadajuban in his slender gloved hand.
His piercing grey eyes were narrowed, and she found herself going mute when they met her violet ones across the room. Her heart rate spiked at his penetrating gaze, and she went stiff in Akari's arms, the droopy folds of her cat-ears perking up. As usual, she couldn't read Byakuya's expression at all, and the spell was broken as Akari turned around and headed for the shoji door leading to the engawa of the manor.
Hisana keened and mewled in frantic high-pitched tones. She wriggled against Akari, cursing her inability to speak. The handmaid shushed her and rubbed the base of her fluffy ears, and Hisana stopped, taken aback by how unexpectedly pleasurable the ministrations were on her sensitive scent glands. She blinked up at the girl, unconsciously raising her head for more.
Akari sucked in her breath audibly. She stared down at Hisana with a new expression, and Hisana saw a question emerge in the handmaid's face.
"Itō Akari-san." Seike spoke throatily. "What is the matter?"
Akari started.
"I'm sorry," she said, in a strangled voice. "I… It's just—her eyes. They look like…"
"'Her'?" Seike repeated.
"I just assumed…" Akari shook her head. "I'm sorry. Let me get the cat out of here." Shifting Hisana against one arm, she slid open the shoji door with the other, and paused. Hisana stared beseechingly up at her, praying that the handmaid could see the truth despite how unthinkable it might be.
"Itō-san." The barest hint of impatience coloured Seike's gentle tone. Hisana heard the tatami creak as the manservant approached, but then he stopped.
She peered diffidently over Akari's shoulder. Byakuya had extended a gloved hand, barring Seike with the wordless gesture. His slate grey eyes bored calmly into Hisana's large feline ones, his profile as unfathomable as before.
And then he spoke, simply and matter-of-factly. "Have someone search the entire estate."
Seike bowed his white head. "Yes, Byakuya-sama."
He slid the shoji door open, but Byakuya was not done.
"At the same time, dispatch a team to the Twelfth Division," he said evenly. "Report Kurotsuchi Mayuri's whereabouts to me."
Seike's eyes widened slightly behind those round spectacles, but he merely inclined his head once more. "Understood, Byakuya-sama."
Without preamble, he disappeared past the sliding door and shut it softly behind him.
She hadn't been chased out.
Instead, two dishes were now set before her on the tatami floor: a plate containing a grilled mackerel, and a little saucer of almond milk. The food offerings had her mouth watering and belly rumbling. The last thing she remembered eating was—ironically—a cat-shaped cookie, and that had been hours ago.
She approached the grilled mackerel first, sniffing it hungrily, her whiskers twitching. She could hear Akari's laboured breathing from where she stood a little to the side, her hands clasped as she watched Hisana curiously. On the contrary, the Head of the House was silent, making no sound whatsoever from where he sat on a zabuton in the centre of the room.
If Hisana wasn't so ravenous, she'd feel more mortified at the current turn of events, and at her feline appearance. She still didn't know if he recognised her—or if she wanted him to. The thought that her current appearance might disgust him festered in the back of her mind, and she took a deep breath.
She wasn't sure if this was a dream anymore. Now that she was no longer being chased out, she had ceased fretting about that. All she wanted to focus on was the fish in front of her, and she nibbled tentatively at its dark flesh, unsurprised at the rich succulent flavour that sparked her taste buds. The food served at the Kuchiki House was, as always, fresh and of the finest quality, and she began nibbling and gnawing more fervently at the plump, juicy meat.
A minute later she found herself becoming thirsty, and she abandoned the mackerel in favour of the milk saucer beside it. Eagerly Hisana lapped at it with a pink tongue, her violet eyes widening at the sublime creamy taste that followed. As a feline she couldn't exactly place the silky sweetness, but she knew it was there, and it excited her.
Ever the sweet tooth, she attacked the lush almond milk with undisguised enthusiasm, not caring that it was getting all over her whiskers and fur. She didn't know if her animalistic state had robbed her of her usual inhibitions, but the refreshing creamy texture of the milk was exquisite, and she needed more. Her predilection for sweets was well-known to the household, with dessert being the highlight of every one of her meals. Regardless of how full she was from the main course, which she frequently had trouble finishing, she would always find room for dessert.
A sound was coming out of her, Hisana realised. It rumbled deep in her furry chest—a content, velvety purr. Dimly she heard a stunned Akari speak—something about her being a sweet tooth—but Hisana tuned the girl out. It didn't take long for the almond milk to disappear, and she let loose with a mewl of distress as she voraciously licked and perused the empty saucer for every last drop of milk.
"You can't have any more," Akari said placatingly, in response to her pitiful mewling, "or you'll get an upset stomach."
Hisana huffed but flopped down onto her side on the tatami floor. Indignant and frustrated as she was, she was also admittedly full, and she was beginning to feel drowsy after the luxuriant meal. She hadn't finished her mackerel but had emptied the entire saucer, and she felt as if she could dip into a delightful, milk-saturated slumber any second now. Arching her back, Hisana yawned widely.
She lay there, still drunk on the heady afterglow of her meal when a tall figure rose and approached her. If Akari had resembled a giant, then the Head of the House seemed all-encompassing from the way he blotted out everything around him. All she saw was the sleek midnight black of his shihakushō, along with the silken ends of his scarf.
Her heart began to pound through her lethargy, and she warred between the inviting stupor of sleep and the acute hyper-awareness of his presence. He knelt on the tatami flooring near where she lay, observing her kitten form with a distant interest. Then, with a long slender finger, he traced her furry chin, which was matted with fine alabaster droplets of milk, and gently stroked a feather-soft line down her distended milk-filled belly.
She gave a faint high mewl, abruptly aware of how at odds her protruding belly was with the rest of her skinny, diminutive body. Pinpricks of embarrassment crept in, and if she was human, she'd have flushed. Instead, she rolled over to conceal her swollen abdomen, the fair gossamer tufts of her fur brushing across his large gloved hand.
With great effort Hisana tottered to her feet, wanting to reach out for him. It was still difficult to maneuver herself as a kitten, even more so with her belly full. She draped her puny torso over his knee, happily kneading her teeny paws onto the hard muscle before realising that she'd left minuscule streaks of almond milk along the dark fabric of his shihakushō. She mewled again, this time out of alarm, and rolled herself rapidly off him onto the tatami floor.
She couldn't tell if she'd angered him for sullying his robes. There was no change in Byakuya's expression as he continued to study her without comment. Feeling chagrined at the remnants of milk blanketing her fur, she bent down and began vigorously licking her snowy-white coat, determined to groom herself clean.
What she hadn't expected was how gratifying the act of grooming felt. The rasp of her tongue was soothing against her fur, even more so as she lapped and untangled the snags in them. For the first time she'd discovered what was presumably one of the finest pleasures in a cat's life, and she forgot about everything else as she intently washed and laved her shoulders with her tongue. Once done, she lavished the same attention to her flanks, and ventured further down south to the sensitive soft junction in between her hind legs.
She hunkered forward and continued licking down there with a steadfast raptness before she suddenly remembered herself. Akari's muffled giggling penetrated the haze she was in, and Hisana went rigid. She straightened up at once, her violet eyes darting furtively towards Akari, who was trying to hold back her amusement to no avail.
A mortified Hisana did not look at Byakuya. She couldn't bring herself to, and she didn't know whether to be comforted or unsettled by his quietness. Much to her relief, a light knock resounded on the shoji door, and she squirmed at the rich, velvety-deep sound of her husband's baritone voice.
"Come in."
The door slid open, revealing Seike. He bowed, the copious lines on his face furrowed with tension.
"Kurotsuchi Mayuri is reported to be at the Twelfth Division Barracks at present," he divulged. "He is currently in his laboratory at the Shinigami Research and Development Institute, and is accompanied by Kurotsuchi Nemu. He awaits Byakuya-sama regarding data for his latest project."
Confused, Hisana chanced a glance at Byakuya. Her husband's slate grey eyes were cold as he stood and headed gracefully for the door, the ends of his windflower silk scarf fluttering behind him. She hadn't a clue what Seike meant, but it was evident that the other occupants of the room did. Seike withdrew to the side to allow the Kuchiki Head through, and Hisana mewled and took a step forward just as her lover vanished past the doorway.
She mewled again despondently, ignoring Akari as the handmaid picked her up and tried to console her. She didn't understand anything that was going on.
Why was he leaving?
:tbc: