"She isn't one of your kind."

The moment he laid eyes on her he knew those words would come to haunt him again.

His family said it often enough when they first met Hisana. It irked him. Damn it, Byakuya remembered his younger self thinking irritably. If I wanted to love someone of my own kind, I would buy a mirror, to better gaze upon myself.

He had taken care to array himself in his finest that morning, just in case she was the spitting image of his wife. He wanted… he didn't know what he wanted, but at least the clothes and the heirloom necklace and the kenseikan would dazzle her sight and confuse her momentarily. She would be unable to refuse an offer that was both audacious and condescending in its presumptions.

He had done exactly the same with Hisana, after all. He almost rendered her blind with all the shiny courtship gifts. Byakuya had weakened her good senses with all the glamor that could tempt the eye. When Hisana realized the extent of the strings attached to his hand, it was too late. They had already eloped.

Rukia was waiting in one of the instructor's private sitting rooms, kindly lent to them for the occasion. The Kuchiki elders filed in, one by one, all of them coolly appraising her for her appearance alone. For that was supposed to be the basis for her adoption: her likeness to the Lady Hisana.

The girl Rukia was dwarfed by her uniform, the scarlet accents a striking contrast to her pale cheeks. Her eyes were downcast as if she was troubled and wished to keep it a secret.

Byakuya knew that look well. His wife would sometimes keep her back turned towards him, as she watched the dusk descend upon the mansion. He knew that while she was content – her reiatsu told him that much – her heart was too big to love him alone. Hisana yearned for the sister she had given up. Hisana needed to find her in order to fill that empty space.

And that's exactly why he was here now: to fill the void.

Rukia had Hisana's look upon her now, as Ginrei and the others detailed the plans for her adoption, and all that she would receive in return. All she had to do was utter one single word: yes.

A young man had interrupted their conference – a sturdy youth with loud hair and noisy tattoos. Byakuya led the way out, leaving them alone for a moment. It was best the girl Rukia had the semblance of a choice in the matter.

Yet Byakuya made it a point to brush past the young man, and let him be unnerved by the soft texture of his rich clothing, if not the hint of his heavy reiatsu. He would make this person know exactly who was claiming Rukia for life.

You will let go of her. She will now belong to me.

Byakuya thought he was subtle about it until the doors closed and he glimpsed the expression on her face. It was then he noticed that Rukia's frail beauty only disguised the penetrating nature of her glance.

Byakuya felt doubt creep into his soul. He was in perilous danger. If she ever got to know him like Hisana did, all his defenses would fall and he would be lost to emotion – honor-destroying emotion – once more.

Rukia sent word at once. From then on, all was empty pomp and ceremony. She became a Kuchiki, and he made sure almost all evidence of her real last name was erased. Everything went according to his master plan.

And he kept his honor within easy reach.

Yet Byakuya would avoid looking her in the eye for the next fifty years. He told himself it was just a precautionary measure. Just like her sister, Rukia saw too much.

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