Chapter 6: I Wasn't Expecting That
~Ichigo~
He hated attending any formal or semi-formal events as her date because:
A) He's forced to wear an actual tie and tux.
B) More often than not, her precious Nii-sama would be there.
C) He was called in most of the time as the last minute resort. The little midget had always managed to somehow conveniently forget certain details in the invitation. And he was her last option.
Not that he was actually fantasizing about going as her date in the first place of course.
Nope- the thought never even crossed his mind.
"Remind me again why I'm doing this," Ichigo grumbled irritably as his best friend- standing on her tip toes, began to spin and loop the span of burgundy silk into a tie.
"Will you please hold still?" hissed Rukia, her nimble fingers were tense and busied themselves with the task of adjusting the red tie to suit their wearer- a very stubborn wearer who acted like a petulant child when it came to ties.
Honestly what kind of grown men wouldn't know how to knot a tie?
Brown eyes peered down at the offending chokehold around his neck and the dainty fingers involved in the tedious process. Ichigo frowned, contemplating several discreet ways of loosening the tie without getting caught or smacked by the pint-sized authoress.
"Don't even think about it, strawberry!" said Rukia through clenched teeth as violet irises burned with such luminous intensity that they scathed him. "I have worked too damn hard for this."
Another loop.
"You are not going to ruin my sacrifice for having to sit perfectly still for the past 5 hours while Ran-chan and Yumi applied god-knows-what-on my face and body!"
A hard jab on the chest.
"You are not going to ruin everyone's efforts. Tonight has got to be absolutely perfect!"
And without giving him any time for response, Rukia had viciously drawn the knot up against his Adam's apple. He scowled, rubbing the bruising skin tenderly.
Now he knew why the ancient aristocrats sometimes committed suicides with the help of a silk cord. The scowl on his face deepened. He could very well die from strangulation himself!
The doctor shot his best friend a dirty look only to be greeted by the sight of her rolling eyes.
"You'll live," she said casually.
His eyebrow twitched. "I can't believe I'm spending my first Saturday night off in months attending a Kuchiki dinner party as your date! Why didn't you pick someone else? You know I hate attending these things," he grumbled sullenly while cuffing the links on his black coat.
"Be thankful I didn't make you wear a bow-tie or a tweed suit. It's either this or take outs," she huffed, "It's your choice!"
He took note of her 5-inch high red Marc Jacobs and promptly decided to hold his tongue. With the well-being of his shins in mind, he bit his tongue hard and instead glared hotly at his reflection on the polished metal sides of the elevator.
Scowling darkly, Ichigo ran a hand through his vibrant shock of orange locks, tousling them as he did and soon enough directed his attention back to his tuxedo.
His Giorgio Armani of the night was a last-minute ensemble by Rukia and that effeminate friend/stylist of hers called Yumi or something, who was also apparently a very nouveau metrosexual, but not gay (could've fooled him) fashion designer. Rukia practically had to bribe that man with her famous apple pie dessert to get the stylist to put his extraordinary skills to the test and dress Ichigo to the best à la mode clothing that money can buy.
Not that Ichigo needed much transformation to begin with, assured the confident aesthete and seeing how the end result was so satisfying to all, Ichigo supposed the man did deserve some credits.
A black silk jacket was draped over his white cotton dress shirt. Its lapels and inner coating faced with a smooth layer of ruby red silk, a shade of red not unlike the current chokehold on his neck and the red Gucci purse his best friend held. The wool and satin trousers were of the same design as the jacket. As for shoes, he had traded his everyday wear- his comfy worn-in loafers for a pair of classic black patent leather lace-ups.
But of course let's not forget- there was the matter of a missing cummerbund and the lack of a bow-tie for a tux to address. And, he smirked- he still couldn't believe his best friend had lost in a verbal argument, much less an argument over clothes and accessories.
XXX
Standing at the sidelines, Ichigo couldn't help but feel like a mannequin- silent, mute and the general 'let's- play-dress-up' Ken doll whose opinion meant pretty much nothing. He stifled a yawn.
"The shirt looks better with cummerbund. It's a FORMAL event, Yumi," growled the authoress as she waved the black sash in front of the fashion conscious man.
Yumichika shook his head, clucking his tongue like a mother hen. "Rukia, best-selling authoress you may be, fashionista you are not. Honey, your friend-" he gestured to the bored-looking Ichigo leaning against the pillar, his hands behind his mass of flaming mane- the classic stance of a bored man forced on a shopping spree- "has the body of a Greek god," he strolled towards the doctor.
"What the hell!"
Brown amber eyes shot up alarmingly as the effeminate stylist patted his cheeks condescendingly.
"Such high cheekbones!"
Ichigo's eyebrow twitched.
"Such a strong jaw," Yumichika grasped the lower half of his face within his grasp and was squeezing the cheeks –as well as poking them. For such a skinny looking man, the guy sure had a tight grip.
Yumichika boldly leaned closer until his face was practically an inch away from the neurosurgeon as he scrutinized the latter's rugged good looks, tilting it from side to side before announcing, "Sans the frowns and premature wrinkles because of them, he would actually look quite a lot like Jensen Ackles."
Needless to say, Ichigo was less than pleased, especially when the stylist deemed it appropriate to run his pale hands on the doctor's chest. "And with such a chiseled chest that a woman would love to wash her clothes on," the man crooned with a sigh and pretty much swooned- making Ichigo cringe.
Rukia cleared her throat and almost immediately the stylist was back on his two good feet acting with extreme professional indifference as he gilded his way back to Rukia's side. Ichigo fought down a shudder. The quick change in manners and temperament of the stylist was blood-chilling.
"Hon, face it- your friend here is a hunk," the stylist sighed dreamily. "Are you sure you're completely straight?" he asked as his expression turned sly.
Ichigo wasn't exactly sure whether he should be horrified or otherwise. And without even waiting for his response, Yumichika was already firing away.
"Cummerbunds," Yumi twirled a lock of hair absentmindedly with his index finger, "are like so last season." He grabbed a peak-collared cotton dress shirt and carmine silk tie from the racks of clothes before turning his attention back to them.
"Dressing him up in cummerbunds and bow tie-" he frowned-"would be equivalent to trying to match up James Bond in hippies slacks." The effeminate man winced, as if disgusted by the mental image portrayed in his mind while the other two blinked and deadpanned.
Ichigo was personally torn between the decision to reach for his phone to call '911' before getting the hell out of here or stick around for his best friend's sake. "Such a waste of perfect sexiness and masculinity," he snatched the sash angrily away from the shell-shocked heiress.
"Hey!"
"No!"Yumichika stated loudly, determination set once again in his eyes. "This waste of beauty is unacceptable!"
Both Ichigo and Rukia stared up at him, a blanch look on their faces as they watch the enraged designer tugged the sash with such desperate force that his knuckles turned colourless.
"I will not allow cummerbunds to zap away Ichigo-san's positive sexiness. This is too unbeautiful," he declared and in a sudden display of strength, the sash was reduced to two ripped shreds as Yumichika turned and forced the full brunt of his Medusa-like gaze on to the Kuchiki heiress.
"He must wear this shirt and tie," he shoved the two pieces of clothing into the woman's face, "and he absolutely MUST NOT tuck in his shirt."
Rukia took in the sight of the shredded garment and the fierce look of determination upon the intimidating stylist. She visibly gulped before holding her hand out.
"Deal."
XXX
Okay, so Ichigo admitted that he didn't look half bad in a tux.
Jeans and T-shirts accentuated his suaveness and the chiseled planes and contours of his body but in a tux, God- in a tux, he looked a like a sleek, prowling wild panther- dangerous, lethal and simply oozing sensual appeal to the opposite sexes, again Yumi-something's words- not his.
He turned his body sideways and nodded with satisfaction at the sight. If he ever made the transition to become Godfather, well, he shrugged- at least he'll look like a real badass mobster with a mouth-drooling body to die for.
"Oi! You done admiring yourself yet, Narcissus?"
The snappy remark had jolted him from his reverie. Taking his attention away from the makeshift mirrors, he smirked. "Don't tell me you're pissed off because you lost an argument?"
She glared daggers at him. Best friend or not, Ichigo can be a real insensitive and did she mention unsupportive, jerk at times.
"Shut up," she muttered. She took a calming breath, balling her fists against the semi-transparent tulle as she focused her attention on evening out her breathing.
Her left hand reached up to finger the string of white pearls tied along her neck- a generous gift from her brother when she had published her first book, while glaring at the flashing number displayed on top of the elevator double panels.
She held her breath, and just when she thought she was about to die from the sheer lack of oxygen-
Ding!
XXX
The looming doors slid open.
It revealed to her what she had already expected. As usual, the ballroom was large (the bigger the better, or so the Kuchiki philosophy went) and filled with people. Its looming ceiling was high and decorated with paintings of uniquely detailed fresco. The dangling crystal chandelier hanging from it merely accented the room's grandeur.
She looked down to the floor and noticed the rich red texture of the carpet beneath her feet. Outside the elevator, they were replaced by neatly cut marble tiles. Outside, a wide, dominating sight of the imperial staircase greeted her. Gleaming in the light, the banisters took up the gilded sheen of gold and she could plainly see the people traipsing on the floor above.
There were painted ladies, dolled up in rich satin and mink coats- giggling, simpering, gossiping and exchanging insults amidst pleasantries. There were mustached and bespectacled men with curvaceous and provocatively dressed girls clinging desperately close while they watched their man drawled on and on about business ventures Rukia was sure that most of them have never even heard of.
The fair-skinned heiress frowned- stilling her movements.
How long had she been out of touch with this part of her- the fancy private schools, etiquette lessons, dinner galas; this entirely different world of hidden smiles and well-aimed insults, draped in the finest furs and silk money could procure but dripped with the foulest malice that only the rich and powerful could have the power to comprehend?
Why was it that they seemed a lifetime away when she was with Ichigo?
This was something she had grown up with, being schooled and taught in the same lessons as any other member of upper society, the beau monde- her Kuchiki education had stepped in unbidden and helpfully supplied, would; but now as she stood with bated breath, she realized this was something as foreign to her as an well um… an aardvark, she supposed.
Gulping, her face turned pale as she sought out the reassuring gaze of her best friend. Offering her a thin smile, he reached for her hand and silently tucked it into the crook of his elbow.
For Nii-sama then.
XXX
It only took a few seconds for the cold digits to curl compliantly along the familiar arm. The warmth exuding from the gentle contact was instant relief.
Dark sooty eyelashes fluttered open- her eyes radiant and bright. She tightened the hold on Ichigo's arm, dropping the other to her side before plastering on her charming Kuchiki persona and signature smile.
Shooting him a grateful glance, she scarcely batted an eyelash as she followed his lead and exited the elevator, assuming the identity as the wealthy, extremely genteel and cultured goody-two-shoes heiress once more.
She was so much more than just that.
XXX
Ichigo on the other hand was not faring well. It might have taken Kuchiki heiress a few minutes to smack on her game face and play the perfect heiress, but for him? Well let's just say that Ichigo Kurosaki was a man with a deep seated paranoia of ties and social events.
He stuck out like a sore thumb in these elaborate dinner parties etiquette-wise.
He looked at his best friend. Out here, she was in her element- so calm and elegant as she sashayed her way through and carried herself off in that stunning black and cream tulle-tiered cocktail dress; the grace and poise in her lithe movements as befitting as any earth-bound angel.
The constant stream of warmth from Rukia at his side had helped lessened somewhat of his current situation, but something told Ichigo that tonight was not going to be a night of smooth sailing.
He was usually right.
XXX
"Ichigo, Nii-sama's there! Let's go and greet him!" said Rukia as she pulled him along by the hand, weaving their way through the throng of strangers that surrounded the elusive and aloof Kuchiki mogul.
Ichigo gulped. His fingers instinctively snatched a glass of half-filled liqueur from a passing waiter's tray before finishing the drink in a single gulp. The sting barely registered.
His mind was simply too far away, immersed too deeply in the Herculean task of being civil to his best friend's Nii-sama.
Byakuya hated him. And no, don't ask him why- because Ichigo sure as hell didn't know the answer.
All he could say that was for a universally known Ice Man of law and logic, the Kuchiki mogul can be a real irrational block of wood with a habit of ticking him off without fail.
Nope- the only consolation in Ichigo's situation was that both men knew that their hatred for each other was a mutual feeling.
The distance between them and the immaculately-groomed noble became dramatically shorter with every passing second. He clenched his left fist and forced his face into a smile with acting skills that made Rukia's pale in comparison, hoping to somehow defy the odds and (with much death threats from the mogul's beloved sister of course) be polite to the older Kuchiki.
A poke from Rukia shifted his attention back into the grand hall. "What are you doing?" asked Rukia, fairly annoyed.
He gritted his teeth. "Nothing. I'm not doing anything. What are you talking about, midget?"
Her eyebrow twitched and she accidentally stepped on his foot. "Oh that was so clumsy of me, Ichigo. Are you okay?"
Making a show of inspecting his injuries, she bent him low to her level and hissed. "Lose that smile on your face. You look constipated."
He fumed. Really he went out of his way to be civil and smiled and this was the thanks he got? A retort was quick to take form at the tip of his tongue but Rukia was apparently not finished with the conversation.
"Just relax-" she adjusted his tie- "I'll be there to hold your hand, you big baby."
Suffice to say that the 'smile' on his face was quickly replaced with a fierce scowl. With a pat on his back and an almost apologetic smile, the duo resumed their journey and bravely tackled the task of weaving through the crowd and on Rukia's part, giving polite nods of acknowledgement to a thousand unfamiliar faces.
The sight of her best friend's scowl effectively deterred the advances of curious on-lookers and a few well-known Casanovas until they finally reached their destination.
"Nii-sama," greeted Rukia as the heiress called out to her brother. The ivory-coloured two-button bespoke tuxedo and the soft lavender-pink tie accented her brother's pale skin, fair features and sleek glossy hair- a trait shared by both Kuchiki siblings as they regarded each other.
Standing as inconspicuous as he could by Rukia's side, Ichigo grudgingly admitted that Byakuya greeted his only sister decidedly warmly by maintaining the small curve of lips long enough for it to be called a smile.
"Rukia," Byakuya greeted, "Delighted that you can make it to the party."
Rukia beamed.
"The pleasure is mine, Nii-sama. You are too kind in extending the invitation to me and my guest."
"Think nothing of it," answered Byakuya smoothly. "Siblings are to be acknowledged in public and in private as any family members should be, despite what other uncouth plebeians may think."
"Yes well, um… Ichigo would like to thank you for your invitation as well, wouldn't you Ichigo?" she asked before subtly elbowing her best friend at the ribs. Forced to join in on the conversation, the young doctor spared her a rude glare. The intensity of it increased as he forced himself to make eye contact with the slate-grey eyes of the Kuchiki noble.
As usual, he found them as cold as the December snow, twice as chilling and dripping with hints of animosity. He glanced as the noble's grip tightened along the stem of his champagne glass.
Nope- definitely no brotherly love there.
XXX
"Byakuya," gritted the doctor through clenched teeth, his lips set in a grim line.
"Kurosaki," came the stiff reply as the raven-haired noble.
Standing by the side, Rukia suppressed the urge to rub her throbbing temple.
Here they go again.
The two alpha males faced off against each other in a heated glaring contest. Each one as determined to stare the opponent down as the other. If one could draw an animal illustration of both, you would have seen two very feral wolves, hackles raised and poised for attack at the slightest provocation.
The tension in the air was almost palpable as Ichigo glowered and glared, while her brother stood rigid and silent, pretending to be the stolid block of ice with unblinking eyes he was rumoured to be.
"Ah yes, Kurosaki. I must say that I'm surprised to see you here. I simply cannot imagine how your patients in the hospital are coping with such a loss."
Ichigo snarled, "They're strong people, Byakuya. They'll manage."
Byakuya's eyebrow rose. "Oh really?"
"Yes," came the stiff reply as Ichigo's left eye twitched. "Really."
Rukia cleared her throat discreetly before hooking her arm around her best friend and smartly interjected. "Well would you look at the buffet table," she said in her sugary flake voice, simultaneously tugging at her best friend's arm, motioning him to play along and waved goodbye to her brother.
"Hey you little-"
"Come on, Ichigo-" she hissed before she clamped her hand on Ichigo's jaw as she pulled him away towards the delicacies-laden buffet tables- "It was very nice talking to you, Nii-sama."
"Mpphhh…hmpphh"
The oxygen deprived victim tugged sharply at his best friend's iron clamp on his face. God, he swore that if she didn't let go of his jaw soon, he was going to suffocate to death! And what did his best friend in the whole wide world do?
She ignored him.
"Would it kill you to keep your thoughts to yourself for once, carrot-top and be polite to Nii-sama," she hissed. Her eyebrows were knitted in annoyance while she angrily strutted ahead of him.
The instant she had let go, the young doctor was gasping for air. Huffing and panting, Ichigo scowled as he noticed the disappearing figure of his petite friend.
"Oi! Wait up, Rukia!"
There was no reply.
Cursing under his breath, Ichigo jogged to keep up with the raven-haired heiress's brisk pace. "Slow down, will you midget?" he growled as they were now walking side by side. "It's not like I dunked his head into the toilet bowl or dropped his body into a sea of hungry piranhas or-"
Rukia gave him a pointed look.
"Not that I was thinking of doing it or anything," he finished lamely.
She scoffed, "As if you could even touch Nii-sama!"
Ichigo gave a light chuckle. "Yeah, you're right. I'd probably get tackled by security before I can do anything."
Rukia snorted.
The two shared a knowing look and laughed softly. Inwardly she shrugged. At least this time her best friend hadn't spilled red wine on Nii-sama's tuxedo. Improvements, however small- were still improvements.
They kept a leisure pace as they began to move further and further away from the huddling masses decked in silks and furs. Rukia kept her face blank save for the fake smile and an uneasy silence followed.
Ichigo let his gaze wander, frowning at how the guests were sampling and tasting the cuisines on the buffet table. Carefully, he cast a sideway glance at the proud aristocrats and business moguls who were trading business pleasantries among other things behind their easy beguiling smiles and booming laughs, deciding easily enough that if it weren't for his best friend- the party wasn't even worth his time.
Tugging the annoying chokehold on his neck, Ichigo shifted close to his best friend.
"Hey Rukia, let's go home. I'll rather watch Chappy reruns than staying her-"
"Rukia?"
XXX
Ichigo looked up and found himself face to face with a man who apart from the flashing pearly-whites, spiky raven black hair and aqua green eyes could have been mistaken for his identical twin.
He frowned. He didn't know he had a twin. And speaking of which, how did his 'twin' know his best friend?
Ichigo stopped in his tracks and noticed how tense Rukia seemed to be holding herself up by his side. He was genuinely surprised when he found her fingers curled against his wrist. His eyebrows furrowed deep.
He bent low to Rukia's height and whispered to her.
"Do you know this guy?"
Rukia was oddly speechless- opting to nod as a reply. Her fingers were squeezing his arm so tightly that he was afraid of it breaking. She gulped.
"K-K-Kaien-dono, is that really you?" asked the heiress quietly as her eyes zeroed in on the newcomer.
Ichigo frowned. He had never seen this man before.
"Ah," said the man, rubbing his nape before he threw a wide grin at their direction. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Rukia?"
Ichigo didn't like the man at all. It was in his body language, it was in the easy smile on the stranger's face, it was in the way his tongue rolled to form the words 'Rukia'.
As any protective best friend would do in such a situation, Ichigo was about to flip the stranger a rude gesture and escort Rukia away from whoever the hell this 'Kaien' was when Rukia did the most unexpected thing of all.
The next thing Ichigo saw was a blur of movement by his side. His eyes widened and he promptly lost his ability to speak as his normally reserved best friend and the Princess of Etiquette threw herself at the stranger and wrapped her arms around his shoulder.
Ichigo's breath hitched and fisted his knuckles tightly.
This cannot be happening!
XXX
Ichigo Kurosaki was officially losing it.
Here he was sitting in the cocktail lounge as he entertained himself with his second shot of Jack Daniels of the night. Downing the hard liquor in one gulp, he slammed the empty glass hard on the counter, causing the bartender to jump at the sound.
Ichigo ran a hand through his hair, tousling them into tangled knots as he brought his attention back to the very much intimidated bartender. He squinted at the name tag before calling out.
"Hanatarou, another one. Now," he grumbled. He was far from drunk.
"Ummm, sir," began the timid bartender tentatively. "This is your third shot. M-M-Maybe you s-should um… slow down?"
Ichigo fixed him with a deep penetrating gaze and the perpetual scowl on his face deepened. Suffice to say that Hanatarou was only too eager to comply with his demands.
Gripping his new drink tight, he took a sip of the throat-scorching liquor before sighing. This was ridiculous, he thought as he took another sip of the whiskey.
Why was he getting so worked up about anyways? He should've known better.
This wasn't the first time Rukia hugged someone in public. She hugged Renji before and even then Ichigo didn't feel any urge to pound the red-head into a bloody pulp.
Ah, but she didn't hug him in a room full of stuck-ups and nobles now, did she?
XXX
Sometimes, Ichigo hated his mind- hated how the stupid thing just had to be so goddamn rational. But back to that insufferable bastard called 'Kaien', oh he had the strongest urge to wring the guy's neck, drown him, cut him with a dozen shallow cuts before pouring salt over them and then watch him die an agonizingly painful death from blood loss.
No- he amended his statement. Even then he still had an urge to resurrect him and castrate the man, dig out his eyes-
Well you got the idea.
He frowned upon noticing that the glass was empty again. His malicious intent must have shown on his face because Hanatarou immediately rushed forward to fill the glass.
But really, he thought- Just who the heck was this 'Kaien' dude?
Throughout their years as each other's best friend, Rukia had never once mentioned him, which was weird because they practically know everything about each other. His friends were hers and hers were his, well most of them anyway.
In fact she liked to introduce her friends to him, but with this 'Kaien'- all she had to say about the guy was 'it's complicated' like they're in some sort of reality TV drama shit before she disappeared to have a private conversation with whoever the hell this Kaien was.
From what he gathered, the two obviously have a 'history' together but to what extent exactly.
Maybe they were lovers?
XXX
The particular thought sent his heart churning in fits of spasms. Ichigo wished he could temporarily order his mind to just shut up and stop thinking. He breathed heavily and in turn gripped the glass harder.
So what if they were, he argued- Rukia was a grown woman, she had her free will. She was free to take up any lovers she wanted, who was he to say otherwise and it probably happened a long time ago.
And there's nothing you can do about it, is there?
XXX
His thoughts took an unusually bitter swerve at that and before he even realized it, he was already downing his fifth shot of the night. He blinked as hot tears sprang as the fiery beverage travelled down his throat. Ichigo's vision blurred from the effect of downing whiskeys in quick successions.
He chided himself, face palming for added effect.
Shut up, stupid brain!
XXX
He was just about to signal Hanatarou for a refill when a very much unappreciated presence appeared on the stool beside him.
He rolled his eyes. Up close, the man smelled like cherry-blossoms.
Could this night get any worse?
Looking at the newcomer's half-filled champagne flute in distaste, Ichigo couldn't help but scoff at his choice of drink.
"Is there something wrong with my drink, Kurosaki?"
"Just thinking whether I should order a Cosmopolitan for you, that's all, Byakuya," he fired back with a smirk.
The noble gave a loud 'hmph' before he spoke. "I have something that might be of an importance to you, Kurosaki."
Ichigo snorted and was about to interject one of his smartass remarks but stopped when he saw the noble reach into his inner pocket and from there, produced a wallet-sized photograph.
Byakuya elegantly slid the photo across the counter to him before he coolly took a sip of the sparkling liqueur.
Squinting somewhat in the dim light, the first thing that Ichigo noticed was that the girl in the faded photo was obviously his then much younger best friend. Beaming at the camera, the little midget had her hair tied into two pigtails and wore a light green-yellow sundress- a certain air of childhood innocence surrounding her as her eyes brightened in mischief with her hair dancing in the wind.
He smirked, because even then the proud Kuchiki still had the same stray bang resting across her forehead with her almond-shaped eyes the same shade of (or maybe just a tad lighter) cerulean.
A smile came unwittingly but not unwelcomed on his lips. Some things, he thought- would never change.
The second he finished locating Rukia on the photograph however, his attention was taken up by the grinning boy standing beside her. The boy was older, already in his early teens compared to his best friend who was probably nine or ten at the time. Wearing a plain white T-shirt and jeans, he had his arm tossed across Rukia's shoulder.
Ichigo peered closer at the photo and froze. It was a boy with aqua green eyes (seaweed putrid, really- in his opinion) and black spikes for hair. But then that meant-
No, he shook his head. He was jumping into conclusions. There were probably hundreds or thousands of raven-heads with green eyes out there.
Who said it absolutely had to be 'Kaien'?
Take Ulquiorra Schiffer for instance. The recently transferred cardiologist fitted the profile too. But still, Ichigo cringed. The German was so stoical and emotionless that even the idea of him twitching the corners of his lips upwards was a stretch (no puns intended).
"Byakuya," he began. Uncertainty was laced in every single syllable he uttered. The mogul's dark grey eyes glanced at him dismissively and took another sip from his champagne flute.
Ichigo's fingers tightened around the glass cup. He himself had no idea whether the aloof noble would listen to his question and even bother answering it but he was willing to try.
"T-That little boy in the photo-" his tongue darted to lick his suddenly dried lips- "is he 'Kaien'?"
"Yes."
Clash!
XXX
The glass cup Ichigo held broke as he lost his grip. Fragments of delicate glass shards splintered and shattered as they made contact with the snug carpet of the ground. Hanatarou winced at the loud noise, clambering his way to get a broom before any of the patrons could injure themselves on the shards, leaving the two men to each other's company.
Unfathomable grey eyes watched on listlessly. The powerful mogul's face remained blank, schooled into perfect aloofness, stoic in his every feature as he regarded the broken glass coolly.
Beside him, Ichigo was uncharacteristically silent. Byakuya gave a barely audible sigh, his lips once again sealed as they came in contact with the cold glass and champagne.
Of all the idiots out there to fall in love with his sister, why did it have to be that stupid thick-headed orange dandelion, who's probably still in denial, that had even the slightest chance of deserving her?
He was quite adamant that the ginger head harboured something more than just ordinary platonic love for his younger sister.
But being that idiotic and slow person that the boy was, he probably hadn't even realized the true extent of his feelings for Rukia yet.
Now let's make this perfectly clear.
Did he, Byakuya Kuchiki, the esteemed 28th clan leader from the Kuchiki clan, CEO of Kuchiki Corporations and Senbonzakura Enterprise ever thought for one second that the fumbling sorry excuse of a man like Kurosaki would ever deserve a jewel like his sister?
Obviously, absolutely, definitely not!
Back then, he hoped that his sister would eventually find herself a soft-spoken suitor, one of a decent built and average looks but gifted with a keen intellect and a good character.
He cast a glance towards the brooding doctor.
That idiot was loud, rude, idiotic, unmannered, uncivilized and had the sensitivity of a boot; his sister was a very delicate flower that needed to be treated with care and love.
But-
XXX
He took another delicate sip. If this idiot made Rukia happy, well just who was he to object to that. Byakuya pursed his lips. His sister's happiness overrode his own insecurities and loss. Always has and forever will.
He promised her unconditional brotherly love and affection, enough to last lifetimes. This promise, he fully intended to keep.
Starting with his timely intervention between the two.
The idiotic fool of a buffoon and his innocently uncorrupted sister were never going to see past their own web of self-denial and realize their own affections for each other without a little boost. The boy was just so dense that Byakuya doubted the relationship would ever advance past the 'best friends' stage without a gentle push.
So, Byakuya relented- he'll give the two a chance and a gentle push in the right direction.
With that being said however, he still found it easier said than done, especially when the right direction happened to be steering her away from him.
Even now, as he made his plan to 'push', his big brother senses were tingling- deploring him to forget the matter and let the two resolve the matter of hearts by themselves.
Upon their parents' demise, he had been given custody of his sister- charged with both her wellbeing and the existence of the sprawling Kuchiki Empire. For too long now, he had donned on the mantle of Rukia's guardian, elder brother and parent.
Byakuya grew accustomed to the role- managing the workings of the company and simultaneously, playing the role of an attentive elder brother. He had played his part so well that it was now inevitable for him to feel torn at the prospect of relinquishing his responsibility and care over Rukia. For twenty years, he had her to himself.
To suddenly leave her to someone else in his stead?
The very idea was unthinkable. Rukia was his only family, the sister more than a decade his junior- more like a daughter than a younger sister. She was all he had left of a family.
And to let her go, Byakuya bit his lips- it was a difficult notion to accept.
Of course, he knew that his little baby sister will grow up one day and become someone's bride/wife and eventually, mother. And he had told himself firmly and repeatedly, that when the time came for his sister to be married, Byakuya would lead her down the aisle himself and entrust his sister to her groom under the moonlight of what had to be the most memorable wedding of the millennium.
With the full edible ten-tier wedding cake, Mediterranean honeymoon and all the best wedding details that Kuchiki money and prestige could buy. He would spare no expenses and gladly foot the bill.
He was a smart man, he knew- he just did not realize that the time for that would arrive so soon, so suddenly. Time was a scoundrel and a thief that walked with utmost silence. In the blink of an eye, the mischievous little elf of a girl had transformed overnight into an elegant young woman.
It felt as though it was just yesterday when he first saw her asleep in the bassinet, barely a day old and already bawling her heart out for his attention. He held her in his arms then, cradling her under the watchful gaze of his parents while she gurgled and yawned.
It was just too soon. She grew up far too soon for his liking. It's times like this when Byakuya couldn't help but feel that age was catching up with him.
With a barely audible sigh the proud noble made up his mind to quell his unease and follow through with the plan, but that Kurosaki brat better not give him a reason to regret his decision.
It was going to be a long night.
Hese's corner:
Edited.
Byakuya is a great *overprotective* big brother/pseudo father figure. Enough said. XD
Oh yes the irony, Ulquiorra the cardiologist! Is it just me or is the fact that the heartless Espada being a healer of hearts a bit of a laugh.. Yeah, probably just me XD