Chapter 17 – All That the Light Touches

"Oh dear, this is getting terribly out of hand," Senjumaru Shutara worried her bottom lip between her pearly whites, one of her hands crossed her midsection while the other resting above it, her hand closing over her mouth curled in ire.

The sight she was looking at was decidedly chaotic, even for the Royal Guards standard. It was acceptable if the level of destruction happened upon the lower dimensions—even the Material World, for goodness sake!—but to permanently and irreparably damage an entire city—her city? It was only fortunate that she was visiting Hikifune when the... damage, occurred.

Rubbles and falling pieces of structures were floating about in the suspended air of her once beautiful domain, her palace of garments positively shredded with pieces of the colorful cloth she lovingly and beautifully spun fluttering in the air like colorful spring petals—beautiful, yet it was no more than her entire artwork destroyed. She wanted to be angry, but only found resigned—albeit exhaustively annoyed—acceptance in her mind.

Nothing she could do about it.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Senju," Kirinji cooed, his tone mockingly concerned as he struggled to keep the snickering under control. Senjumaru might think that she was accepting of her woes, but her facial expression spoke otherwise—Kirinji never witnessed such an amusingly darkened look in her face before. That look when you're positively livid yet you can't do anything about it, makes you want to squeeze the life of a small critter just for the heck of it.

"Kindly shut your trap, Kirinji, and go muck about in your filthy ponds like the pig you are," Senjumaru glowered as she swiftly turned her face to the idiot who was aware enough of his surrounding to dodge her gigantic needle.

"Dirty mouth you got there for such an esteemed lady—oh, I meant bitch," Kirinji antagonized her even more, his feet gliding on the ground as if he was dancing—in drunken stupor if we are going to make an example—avoiding the offensive weapon that was swung about by an enraged Senjumaru.

"Oh, would you two stop it?" Hikifune Kirio snapped at the bickering duo, paying her attention once more to the scene before her.

Closer observation would see that the structures weren't intentionally destroyed, wisps of dark reiryoku could be felt by the Royal Guards' superior senses. It was surely a stunningly explosive one. Yet she couldn't help but frown at the speckles of blood sprayed upon the crumbling stones, from whom she knew it was spilled.

"It will all work out," Ichibe sighed deeply, placing a hand on the shoulder of a significantly narrower Hikifune.

"Tell that to the half-dead kid drowning in my ponds," Kirinji quipped catching the huff that Senjumaru let put as he 'borrowed' her wording, then paused and adding in a shrug, "again."

Hikifune furrowed her brows, looking up to witness the extent of the damage done by one, the towering structure of the Soul King's Palace where he disappeared into was damaged beyond repair.

In the distant sky, the clouds were dark and thunders roared promising stormy nights to come.

He stared down blankly at the noble who disgraced himself, kneeling on the ground with his head hovering above Renji's feet.

It was bizarre, he thought idly. This was the second time he brought the proud noble down to his knees, and he could never get over the sickening sense of awe at the sight he created for himself. The feeling was alien and he decided that experiencing it once was more than enough to last him a lifetime. The almost euphoric sense of having the power of someone who was much much more powerful than he was, someone who never experienced hardship, and having him groveling for mercy at his feet.

He wanted to throw up.

"Don't do this," he whispered, pulling himself back to keep a distance away from the kneeling man.

He realized that sickening feeling was not due to modesty—that was what he felt the first time around. No. He realized that with all the things he knew, all the things he let happened, he didn't deserve to have the man asking for his forgiveness, of all people. He didn't want any of it.

So he tried to put a stop to it. "Get up."

"I will not," the noble breathed, gruff tone under his breath while his shoulders tensed in anticipation. Somewhere on the side, the Tennō watched on silently. As he always did.

"Get up!"

"No," he persisted, glaring on the ground as if it was to blame for all his problems, "not until you forgive me."

Renji sneered at the decidedly petulant answer, "so now you're forcing your will on me?"

"No!" Byakuya shot up in shock, his eyes wide as he looked at Renji with horror. The redhead jumped at the sudden boom of the noble's voice, forcing himself to remain still and not cower in fear and guilt as those red eyes stare back at him.

"Perhaps it is better that you work this out alone," the Tennō's voice could be heard somewhere to the side, leisurely distancing himself from the two.

"Father," Renji started, not wanting Him to leave.

"I," the Tennō inclined his head, pointedly looking at Byakuya who was looking back at him with a questioning gaze, "will descend, for a while. To see that dying friend you left, Byakuya."

"Father—"

But the Tennō shook his head and smiled, he walked away and in his place stood a smaller, more human version of himself, and vanished out of the throne room.

After the Tennō left, the silence stretched in the chamber. Byakuya contemplated going back to his knees for a moment until he heard the sound of Renji's robes swished as he also moved towards the gaping entrance—courtesy of Byakuya's incredible fist.

"Renji," he called as he reached for the redhead's hand, hoping he would listen to him, hesitating to touch the skin as he feared for painful rejection and repulsion. He was well aware of the trauma his redhead had endured during his stasis, the mental assaults Aizen brought upon his mind and the torturous memories. He was there, witnessing it firsthand.

No.

"I have seen what you saw," he tried again, watching as Renji paused in his steps, "everything."

Not simply... a witness.

The horror. The nightmare. The torture.

By me. By me. By me.

Hands, dark, strong, gripping, tearing apart, destroying. A scream, begging for mercy, begging for forgiveness.

His blood.

The flawless skin of a frail neck marred by a scar as red as his flowing mane.

As red as Byakuya's eyes.

I... did this.

He shuddered, shaking his head as he tried to stop the assault of dark images persisting in his mind like a plague, his delusion painting his hands in red, red blood—

"You didn't eat breakfast, did you captain?" Abarai Renji asked with exasperation clear in his voice, but his eyes holding a glimmering twinkle of amusement.

"Honestly, this is the fifth time this week, Captain you're gonna send yourself to an early grave!"

He couldn't breathe. His hand was still hovering in the air uncertainly, his eyes blinked owlishly as the imaginary sound of his lieutenant admonishing him for not eating breakfast time and time again entered his mind out of nowhere.

Why show me this? he thought to himself, the sting of something that was about to seep out of his eyes making him frown, longing for the simpler times.

"Captain Kuchiki?"

And so he was pulled back from his wistful stupor. Before him, his Renji was standing still, looking at him as if he wanted to say something—his expression pained, as it always had lately. I did this.

Fix it.

He inhaled sharply, eyes unwavering as he pinned the redhead in his place, "I understand if you are afraid of me because of that. But I refuse to accept that you lose to your fears because I know you are a strong soul," he said slowly, putting emphasis in each word that he wished Renji would understand, "your will overcomes the greatest adversities. Even myself, once. Do you remember?"

Do you remember how you opened my eyes, my heart to those around me? To my own sister?

To you?

He expected the poisonous response that he got in return, "this is not the fucking time to wax poetic—"

"I will stumble, and I will fall," Byakuya continued, seemingly unhindered by the redhead's bitter words as he stepped closer to Renji, his eyes grew soft as he watched his disgruntled façade.

"I will even stray far away from my path, I will succumb to the darkness and my monsters, as I will hurt everyone surrounding me for I couldn't control its rampage. Even then," he stopped, his face inches away from the stiff Seika.

"Even then I know," he eyed the redhead, and let his eyes shift lower to observe the seizing fingers clenching tightly on themselves, evidence of restraint, and perhaps, delayed shock.

He reached for the trembling fists firmly, letting out a small, indistinguishable smile as he felt them still, "my soul will forever be intertwined to you, and I will always find my way back."

Renji, frozen as he was, immediately snapped back at the gentlest touch of the noble's lips against his knuckles, the touch lingering like cherry blossom petals fluttering on his skin. Like a curse.

Byakuya's gaze was as sharp as it was soft, firm and unwavering yet it carried to Renji a quality akin to understanding that inexplicably made his body warm. As if he understood Renji more than he understood himself.

"You are the Light in my soul, Renji. Without you... I am simply a mindless beast."

At first, he didn't know what to say to that. He suspected that he didn't even think at that moment—couldn't. He simply stared at the noble, though his gaze far as if he was seeing something that no one else could see, memories nearly forgotten—of their beginning.

He wanted to succumb. To give in and surrender to his desires. Forgiveness was right in front of him, offering himself in a silver platter and he wanted to do nothing but to relent.

He sneered at himself. "It's all... nice, of you," he finally said, his voice was firm and harsh, but he still found that he couldn't look at the raven in the eye, "Captain."

Byakuya let himself be suspended in anticipation. Bitter words it may have been, he was not about to let his emotion run rampant as it did the last time—controlling him. And he suspected that it was what his former lieutenant was trying to taunt out of him.

"But I am not what you think I am."

"I murdered people," Renji continued viciously, his fists clenched until he could smell his own blood.

I want it to end.

"My own friends," he snarled, furiously wiping his hand against his eyes, preventing anything to fall down. His other hand was clenched to his side, he could feel the blood seeping from his tightly closed fingers, trickling down his skin like tears.

I want you to save me.

"Your wife." The final nail in the coffin. His voice was full of self-hatred but then he knew the other wouldn't be able to detect it.

Save me.

Byakuya gritted his teeth and clenched his hands.

He thought that he was over this. He thought that, perhaps, after knowing what the redhead was about to do in his absence, what he was about to lose, he would be over his grievances and fury and he would wake up and save Renji from himself.

He thought he was above pettiness. But here he was, doubting everything he had said, edging on taking them all back and gut the redhead in front of him because he couldn't stop mourning and hating and he wanted to unleash everything that he was on to the person standing before him, who he knew was deliberately antagonizing him.

He knew that Byakuya couldn't control himself, he couldn't rein in the emotions, the destructiveness that his very nature was.

"You are not going to manipulate my feelings, Renji," he growled, the tone of his voice taking a wild turn; that of a caged beast.

This is what he was. A beast in humanoid flesh tightly wrapped around itself. And the figure before him was his willing prey.

And so it was, for Renji. His wish. Either having the Tennō permanently erase his soul, or being consumed by the wrathful monster.

A soft sound of hot water splashing against smooth, polished rocks echoed in the large, seemingly open area.

"That jerk got me good," Kurosaki Ichigo grumbled, hissing when he moved a still torn muscle of his ribs, "shit."

It was a purely accidental and sudden blast, but he decided that the raven-haired noble was so going to get it from him when he was all healed. The bastard dared to explode in front of him not once, but twice in the span of a week—right after he was healing from the previous one at that.

However, he found himself frowning at the why.

He recalled the incident once more, picturing himself taunting the obviously compromised noble—however honest he was at that moment, he knew it was insensitive and inappropriate to say what he said given the circumstances. He could see the noble reaching for his side, reaching for a blade that wasn't there, and seemingly reminded of something. Where was Senbonzakura? he remembered wondering at the time, but realized that the current Byakuya wouldn't need his zanpakuto to kill Ichigo nice and easy. So he readied his own sword.

And then the noble froze, his eyes impossibly wide and his pupils dilated as he collapsed on the ground—and roared.

"NO!"

It was... it was a terrible sound. It was worse than his Call back when they were in Hueco Mundo. It started off as a discernable speech that swiftly ascending in pitch until it was inhuman and raw, something that couldn't be coming out of a living being's mouth. It was the sound of Hell's Gate opening and the demons screeching from beyond the veil. A nightmare-inducing sound that brought Ichigo to his knees, unable to move and speak as he thought his ears would bleed. He recalled cursing, wishing for any of the Royal Guards to come and interfere—do something to tame the monster.

The explosion right after was much—much—worse after his unfortunate experience. It was all due to the parts of his clothing sewn together with Senjumaru's Ōken cloth that he survived from the blast of destructive force.

But never mind that he almost died from the incident. Ichigo was more concerned with what was going on that triggered such... horrifying reaction out of the noble. His gut told him it had something to do with his redhead, and the more he entertained the thought the more concerned he became and he was about to jump out of the pond he was soaking in when—

"Are you Kurosaki Ichigo?"

"Shit!" He yelped—though he would never admit it—and forcefully submerged his entire body in the murky water until only his head was left afloat.

"Man, knock will ya?!" he snapped without a thought, and froze as he turned his head to the man standing near the entrance, "I mean, err—fuck, who the fuck are you?"

The man seemed amused as he covered his lips with one hand, his eyes holding a twinkle that irritated Ichigo even from where he was across the pond. The man, looking middle-aged, not unlike his own father, was hulking and large, yet his limbs were manicured with such precision they looked like the musculature of Greek statues he saw at museums. He was possibly as big as Ichibe even without the scruffy appearance—and that man was big. His wheat-colored hair framed his equally pale, squared features and his white robes lined his strong figure in a simple yet gallant drip to the floor, golden threads embellished the trims with elaborate designs and symbols.

What made Ichigo sure that the man might be no other than the Almighty God Himself was the heavenly light cast from the man's entire physique—all he needed was a halo on his head, in Ichigo's opinion.

But then he remembered he was born and raised a Shinto believer— and he was also certain that God wouldn't look like a 'blondified' Japanese Yakuza.

And what seemed even more suspicious to him was that the man did not have a single bit of reiatsu—or rather, Ichigo couldn't sense it. It might have been the freaky water that dulled his senses down—Kirinji did say that no one should stay in the ponds for very long lest they want to basically evaporate.

Or it might have been because that man was something else entirely.

He cursed himself as he remembered he left Zangetsu with the rest of his uniform far across the water, laid down innocently on a high enough slab so they wouldn't get wet.

"I have never heard that much foul language being used in such short a time," he heard the man say, the amusement clear in his tone. He leisurely walked to a nearby rock formation that was deemed dry enough and took a seat. Ichigo silently observed the man's movements, nerves wracking his body when the man didn't even react when he deliberately blasted his reiatsu to his general direction—as if he couldn't even feel it. The other simply smiled into the steaming water, running his large hand across the surface.

Kirinji said that if an otherwise healthy person was to make contact with the healing water, it would instantly decompose them.

But the man simply sighed loudly and turned to Ichigo again. "Let's just say I'm waiting for certain people to make up."

"...what?"

The entrance was busted open once again when Kirinji Tenjiro himself made his way inside. "Tennō-sama, that way is—oh, you've already met him."

"Damnit what's with people barging in when I'm in a fucking bath?" Ichigo snapped his arms up in exasperation, not even caring that he was in the nude anymore.

"It's the Kirinden you spineless—"

"Kirinden, fuckwad-den, whatever."

The Tennō chuckled, prompting the pair to shut up.

"I heard that a certain raven did that to you," he spoke in a knowing tone, catching the still healing wounds on the orange-haired substitute body, the bruising on his ribs were large, along with the gashes across his torso and back, which were all steadily healing and fading under the almost miraculous properties of the hot spring.

"Oh, it was far worse when he first got in, I assure you Tennō-sama," Ichibe's booming voice cackled through the open entrance, followed by Senjumaru Shutara and Hikifune Kirio. Oetsu was nowhere in sight, possibly tending to his precious zanpakuto's in his.. own world.

"Great, just invite the whole army in while you're at it," Ichigo grumbled, slightly disappointed that he couldn't continue his conversation—if once could call it that—with the stranger still sitting calmly on his rock despite the appearance of the Royal Guards themselves. It further cemented his belief that the man was important—enough that they called him in such reverence.

And didn't Tennō means God? He was God, after all? Nothing made sense anymore, Ichigo complained internally, but finding himself strangely at ease at the bizarre circumstances. Maybe he had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle—and that thought scared him. He certainly didn't was his whole life to be filled with chaos and danger and constantly dying with whatever problem the world thrust to him.

"Oh, dear, Kurosaki Ichigo," Senjumaru gasped dramatically as she made her way into the area, pulling Ichigo out of his thoughts to look where she was looking at him, down, down—oh. "oh my."

He could hear the laughter in her voice, even as she covered her mouth with her sleeve as if in shock—when he knew for certain that she was hiding a gleeful smile. That didn't stop him from squeaking embarrassingly and covered his—delicate—area with his hands. Even the hot water couldn't make his face any redder.

"Would you all be amendable," the Tennō spoke again, diffusing the light atmosphere in the open chamber with a quiet smile, "if I speak to him alone?"

Everyone seemed to sober up and hastily bowed low to the sitting figure, who was looking at Ichigo with a strange look on His wise face. He didn't even bother verbally heeding Ichibe's excuse as he ushered the other Royal Guards out of the hot springs, opting to simply raise His fingers in affirmation of their departure. This was a different person than the one who came in. Or maybe it was the only one all along, masterful of acts and deceit, yet now suddenly crumpling His fine façade and tossed it to the waters.

"Now, Kurosaki," He spoke again after a long silence, His golden eyes trained on Ichigo's increasingly concerned ones.

"Where shall we begin?"

The loud growl coming from the creature a distant away made Renji jump in surprise.

"What is that, Father?" he tilted his head, gesturing to the creature chained to the ground.

"That, Little One," the Tennō smiled, "is the Shōgo."

"I imparted in it the Shōken. It shall be your guardian."

"Guardian?" Renji wrinkled his nose at the creature, "It's a beast."

And indeed it was. The creature was humongous, its dark fur long and seemed to suck the light from the bright white sun. The thick, enchanted chains circled its four limbs and an especially thick chain was connected to a spiked collar around its neck, the fur around the chained areas matted down with substances that the Seika suspected as its lifeblood. It didn't seem to bother the growling creature, massive as it was yet seemingly helpless and vulnerable. Like a captured demon.

"It is."

Renji blinked in confusion and stared at the Tennō as if he grew a second head—it was not the first time, after all.

"It is a mindless beast, it will trample everything in its path and destroy all that is living."

"Why—"

"For it has no soul," the Tennō pointed. Renji frowned at that. Why would the Tennō put such a powerful weapon like the Shōken inside the mindless creature? It wouldn't be useful—it would be the exact opposite of useful if the creature was let loose. No, it would be disastrous.

"Its essence, in its most basic nature, is Chaos—unbridled, unhinged, uncontrollable Chaos," that confirmed his concerns, then the Tennō continued ignoring Renji's increasing worry, "to put a soul in it requires certain, ah, qualities to balance its chaotic nature."

"Qualities?"

The Tennō nodded.

"Light; beautiful and pure that draws even a mindless beast to its energy," he explained, a wistful look in his face as his eyes softened, looking down at the redhead standing next to him.

"In essence," he imparted, "it needs you."

"Me?" Renji was taken aback. He scrunched his eyebrows thoughtfully and then looked back at the creature still rampaging in captivity just a distance away.

"Because your soul, your very existence is the embodiment of Light. You will be its anchor; its guide, as it will be your guardian."

Renji looked at his hands, willing Light to come forth and warmed his fingers with Its glow. It had always been second nature to him. He was born with it.

"Now come," the Tennō inclined his head, gesturing for Renji to come closer to the creature, his mien reassuring that it won't hurt him. But Renji was a slight bit skeptical.

He came in closer anyway.

"Um, hey there, uh, Shōgo?" he started uncertainly, his fingers halfway up in greeting, forgetting that it was not a person who would understand the gesture, and clenched his fists in embarrassment—even though there was only the Tennō standing several feet away.

All he received was a long growl in return, growing increasingly louder the closer he got. He flinched when it tried to swipe its massive claws at him, the chains holding its limbs in place would not even let its arm move more than a quarter way up from its strained position. Its legs were not even able to move one measly inch. The more Renji looked at the creature the more he grew to sympathize with it.

"I'm gonna," he started, gulping, "I'm gonna touch you now. Don't hurt me," he whispered at the end. He willed Light to come forth from his soul, coursing down his soul stream and channeling It through his hands.

Renji opened his palms and imparted the Light to the Shōgo, the stream of energy coursing gently through the air. The agitated creature was thrashing relentlessly and roared louder and louder as if it knew that it was in danger—as if anything could hurt it but its own self.

The moment the Light touched it, it grew silent, Renji approached the still creature cautiously yet surely until he was but an arm-length away from it. The creature's eyes were a dark pool of nothingness as it stared at Renji in an alien calmness. The beast was tamed, for a while. The Light was still coursing from his hands to the creature, as Renji reached up to touch its enormous face.

"It has yet a name," the Tennō said beside him, putting his immense hand on Renji's shoulder as he watched the creature change before his very eyes. The deed was done.

The Shōgo was born.

"He, Father," Renji pressed, not looking at the Tennō as his fascination grew and grew the more the creature warped its shape, its growls steadily growing softer into pained whimpers, its inhuman qualities diminishing until what stood before him was a man with long, raven hair.

He looked at the crouching man warmly, nodding to himself. "Byakuya."

The eyes that stared back was glowing red.

- to be continued -

Tennō Trivia #1

He's 10 feet tall and proportionately wide, a giant dwarfing most characters in the Bleach universe—except the Menos and certain Hollows, but they aren't exactly 'characters'.

Back to three weeks... eheh.

Okay, so the last few chapters had no action whatsoever, sorry! But I gotta try to develop the romance too guys, there's another genre I put there besides adventure xD

I think it's more emotionally realistic to not just have them resolve everything in one shot. Renji's guilt is too strong and Byakuya's... animalistic disposition is too intrinsic to his nature that he couldn't possibly remain with patience and calmness when he had the strong-headed redhead constantly taunting him to snap.

And kinda, a small bit of Byakuya's background thrown in there. Hoped it answered at least part of your questions to Byakuya's strange and out of character behavior and disposition in the past chapters. And I swear I'm gonna write Aizen's past! This story is kinda slow burn, in my opinion, so bear with me XD

Please tell me your thoughts on this story. While I will try to continue writing it regardless, it would be nice to know if I've done things right, or if there are things that I should revise or do better in the future :)

Thank you for your feedback!