Bleach belongs to Kubo only. Enjoy!
Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto.
Chojiro Tadaoiki Sasakibe.
Retsu Unohana.
Sajin Komamura.
Jushiro Ukitake.
Nemu Kurotsuchi
Yachiru Kusajishi
All fallen in the war.
The scent of incense irritated Byakuya Kuchiki's nose and he fought back the urge to sneeze.
He was standing in front of the memorial shrine dedicated for the fallen in the War, located in a central section of the Seireitei. It was a large stone surrounded by candles lit with eternal flames for the fallen. There were hundreds of names inscribed on this large stone, but those names in particular stood out to him the most. Although he was not one to show it, they were treasured comrades of his—people he had fought for and with. Now they were gone.
The Kuchiki Clan Head visited the memorial weekly. At first, it was out of respect for the fallen. Now, he visited because it was a quiet place to think—a place away from the constant clamor of repair projects and incompetent members of his Division harassing him.
Byakuya was cognizant of the fact that his name could have been inscribed on this stone as well, if it wasn't for the timely arrival of the Royal Guard who saved his life.
The sensation of his own Bankai being used against him and shredding his body to near nothingness kept him up at night frequently. The cycle of life entailed life and death, and he had never come so close to dying until that day. He was certain that a divine providence saved him from death because he had not accomplished all that he needed to do in this life. Becoming a better brother to his sister and learning to consider the feelings of others before himself was not enough.
There was a void within him that needed to be filled.
He felt his hands clench involuntarily and decided to put them together, bowing his head slightly and closing his eyes in a prayer for the fallen.
"You never seemed to be the religious type," a playful voice interrupted him.
He opened his eyes, annoyed, "Yoruichi Shihoin."
Yoruichi Shihoin sauntered up to Byakuya and stood to his left, her amber eyes scanning the stone and softening in sorrow as she came across several familiar names. "Even a century ago, Yamamoto was the unassailable force behind the Gotei 13. Everyone thought the man was invincible. Such a horrific way to go." she lamented, her tone subdued.
"Yes." Byakuya replied. The sight of seeing Yamamoto slain in such a horrible manner—bifurcated and burned to death by his own Zanpakuto, would never leave his mind.
Byakuya was no fool, he was well aware of the fact that he was depressed.
While many Shinigami celebrated the victory against the Quincy with food and drink, he sat at his home for hours in his office doing nothing. Sometimes he would rise and stroll around his gardens for a break in the monotony, but he felt quite empty inside. Long days and even longer nights with no one to confide in out of fear of being judged. Sometimes he considered confiding in Rukia or Renji, but he did not want to warp their opinions of him and show weakness. It was such a vain excuse that he kept trying to justify for himself. He knew the woman standing next to him would listen, but he was not sure if she would understand. Hell, he did not even understand himself.
Byakuya Kuchiki desired companionship.
He wanted someone to miss him.
He wanted to occupy the thoughts of someone.
He wanted to be wanted.
Was he ready?
Yoruichi noticed the tense state that her former disciple was in and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here to talk if you need to. It helps, Byakuya."
Byakuya noticed that the woman was serious for once and heeded her words. "Thank you," he whispered, and she disappeared in a flash moments later.
"Kuchiki-taicho?" another feminine voice spoke out.
Byakuya blinked at hearing another interruption and glanced up at the sky to see the sun was starting to set. "How long have I been present here?" he thought to himself as he turned to the voice. It was Rangiku Matsumoto, standing there with a curious expression as she held a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of sake in the other. "Rangiku Matsumoto-fukutaicho," he found himself saying.
The party girl of the Gotei 13—known for sauntering about the Seireitei with alcohol, men, and a healthy combination of both.
He could not recall a time when he had ever addressed her directly before, not even outside of work.
Why was he taking notice of her now?
She inclined her head respectfully before approaching the stone and placing the flowers in front of it, joining several other bouquets that lined the bottom of the monument.
"I never took you for a religious kind of man," she commented as she scanned the stone before them.
He fought the urge to roll his eyes. That was the second time in the same day that someone said that to him.
Byakuya gazed at her from the corner of his eye and took notice of how her shoulder length strawberry-blonde hair framed her heart shaped face in such a lovely way. He looked into her eyes when she looked up at him—her baby blues seemed to be searching him. Seeing as how he was a grown man, he also took notice of her curvaceous figure, noting how tantalizing she looked in a simple green yukata.
"I have been told this before, Matsumoto-fukutaicho," he replied, trying to seem uninterested.
Rangiku was quite puzzled. She did not expect the man to even acknowledge her presence, much less respond to him. She had always thought of Byakuya Kuchiki to be the stuck up, rich boy who thought of himself as superior compared to everyone. His hair flowed freely that day and several ebony locks framed his face enticingly. He was clothed in an expensive burgundy yukata, and Rangiku could see his muscled chest. Byakuya Kuchiki was a very attractive man, yet, so unapproachable.
"But, I could undoubtedly say the same about you, Matsumoto-fukutaicho." Byakuya continued as he fully turned to face the woman—was that a teasing look to his eyes? She had to have been seeing things, Byakuya Kuchiki didn't tease anyone.
Rangiku had the mind to be embarrassed yet refused to show weakness. "I wouldn't consider that to be a bad thing," she commented through pursed, full lips that she noticed him glancing at every so often. "I live my truth."
"Truth?" He wasn't sure what honesty had to do with indulging in the base pleasures of the world.
Rangiku raised the bottle of sake in her hand, holding it at eye level, "Being myself," she explained. "We as Shinigami live for centuries, but life is too short to be something, or someone you are not."
Her eyes suddenly darkened, and she turned back to the stone, brushing her fingers across several names she recognized. Byakuya's eyes followed her fingers—Retsu Unohana, Jushiro Ukitake—two comrades who had selflessly sacrificed themselves even though they did not have to. He knew that she was close to those two in particular and took their demises the harshest.
"We survived because of their sacrifices and Ichigo's resilience, yet I can't help but think that there was a divine intervention that allowed us to live on, no?" she questioned something that had been on her mind for a while. She looked at Kuchiki-taicho, whose expression was as if she had said something that he'd been wanting to hear for a long time.
"Divine intervention, yes," Byakuya agreed in his thoughts. That was it.
"You are quite the intuitive woman, Matsumoto-fukutaicho. I would have never expected to hear such thoughts from you." Byakuya commented and was startled slightly when the woman rounded on him in annoyance.
"I'm more intelligent than I let on, regardless or not if I drink." she spat at him, hating to be underestimated yet again. It was difficult being a woman in this world, but her past transgressions never ceased to follow her. Rangiku hated being known as the vapid party girl who refused to do her job properly, and no matter what she did—no matter how hard she tried—no one wanted to see her for who she truly was.
"Besides," she opened the bottle and took a swig from it, "it helps." Her expression saddened and her postured slumped slightly. She didn't have to explain what sake helped her through.
Everyone had their own ways of coping with trauma. Byakuya's ways of coping was shutting himself off from everyone, and Rangiku's was indulging in the pleasures of the world.
"It was not my intention to fault you for that, if that was how my words were interpreted." He sounded ashamed. Byakuya was no different. He understood what it was like to be misunderstood—for people to hold steadfast to judgements based on appearances and opinions.
Rangiku blinked. Did Byakuya Kuchiki just apologize?
He noticed the woman's expression and made to apologize again, but she beat him to it.
"I'm sorry, Kuchiki-taicho." she blushed. "I didn't expect that." Her baby blue eyes crinkled with mirth, and he wanted to see that again. "You don't seem like the sort of man to—"
"Apologize? I am imperfect, and capable of admitting my errors."
"Ah, I feel like I have to apologize now," she snickered, and she was surprised to hear an amused chuckle in response. She looked into his charcoal eyes and saw the corners of them crinkle in amusement. He reached for the bottle still in her hand and sipped from it without breaking eye contact with her. She felt herself grow hot, his eyes were so expressive when he wanted them to be.
"Matsumoto-fukutaicho?" He called out to her, and she realized that she had been staring at him.
"Call me Rangiku," she blurted out without thinking. She realized what she said and turned away in embarrassment, feeling like a skittish school girl instead of the grown woman that she was.
"That would be unbecoming of your station, Matsumoto-fukutaicho." he replied to her as she felt him place the bottle back in her hand. She pouted in annoyance as her attempt to get the man to loosen up a bit failed. Disregarding the matter for now, she decided to bask in the warm of the outdoors and reflect upon the last two years since the War.
They stood in silence in front of the memorial stone long enough for the sun to set.
"My name could have—should have—been inscribed in this memorial." He said quietly breaking the comfortable quiet in between them.
Rangiku didn't like hearing such morbid thoughts. "Don't say such things." she protested. She should have been dead as well—she did die, in fact, turned into a zombie with her captain by one of the Quincy. Kurotsuchi-taicho was able to reverse the process at the expense of a large amount of her remaining lifespan. Rangiku thought often about how long she had to live since then.
Byakuya faced her again, and she could see the hurt and vulnerability in his expression. This man was hurting, and she did not know how to comfort him. She pressed a hand to his chest, not even knowing why she did so, and looked in in the eyes.
"Do you feel this?" she demanded.
"Your hand?"
"No, idiot," she just called one of the most powerful men in the Gotei 13 an idiot, but she did not care. "your heart. It's still here. You're still here." She pressed on insistently before getting in his face. "Never disrespect the dead by saying that it should have been you again."
The organ started to thump rapidly under her touch, but he didn't move away. In fact, he liked the sensation of her palm on his chest. He didn't say a word in reply. Their eyes—sky blue and charcoal—gazed deep into each other. Was it the booze doing this? Or was it the need for physical contact—the yearning for someone to sympathize with what was tearing his heart open on a daily basis? Blushing slightly, she slowly removed her hand from his chest, bowed and apologize before disappearing in a flash step.
"Rangiku." He whispered her name, lost in the wind.
This came to mind several nights ago, and I wanted to churn it out before I forgot about it. Thanks for reading and review!