She's Like the Moon, an xSilverWingsx fanfic
Pop the cork, a champagne glass; raise to the future, tip to the past. Thank the Lord for the friends He cast in the play He wrote for you. –Ellis Paul
Byakuya sat again at his wife's bedside as she slept fitfully, as she had done since eight o'clock the previous evening. She had been fine over the past few weeks but yesterday she had been found on the porch unconscious, holding one of her romance novels. He missed her days of unlimited splendor, when they spoke at length about many things, from world health to T.S. Eliot.
But as he saw her here, lethargic and in an unhappy sleep, he wondered if those days would ever be back.
When Byakuya first met Hisana, he was thirty and she sixteen. His boss was throwing a wine mixer and had invited the Kuchiki heir, wishing to discuss business capital with him. That was back when he was a mere intern. Now as president, he remembered the day on which he'd first seen his wife.
"It's a nice place!" Ukitake said admiringly, glancing up at the stone mansion with surprised brown eyes. "How do you know this man?"
"He is... the vice president," Byakuya said after a moment of thinking. "Do you find it surprising that I would know such a person, Ukitake?"
"No, not really," said the white haired man truthfully, shrugging. "I was just wondering."
"I see." Byakuya frowned and readjusted his navy tie, which he'd paired with a charcoal suit and silver cuff links. It was formal attire, surely, but he had an underlying suspicion that his boss would be dressed much more elegantly. "If you don't mind my asking, how were you invited to this?"
Ukitake grinned and replied, "I work in accounting, and Hisagi told me about it. I asked the boss himself and he invited me."
How simple... thought Byakuya sagely. He had put in several extra hours that week to be considered for an invite. It sounded pathetic to scrounge for a place at a small get together, but he knew that this would get him into conversations with the company's most important. Being wealthy was his objective, because after that many doors were open to him. These included the privilege to marry a woman from a well known family, and to be comfortable.
"Where did you buy that outfit?" Ukitake questioned. "I looked everywhere for something like that."
"This is my father's," Byakuya said truthfully. "He left his clothing to me in the will. I'm afraid I don't know where it came from." The dark haired man pressed his lips together and tightened his fist; Ukitake meant well, but he was too laid back to be good company for someone like him. Byakuya wanted silent, intelligent companions, but such people were very hard to find. As much as he spurned admittance to this fact, he lacked charisma.
Finally the familiar man opened the door. His hair was brown and unkempt, shadowing the lenses of his glasses. Byakuya knew him as Sosuke Aizen, the vice president.
"Hello, Mr. Kuchiki. Mr. Ukitake." He sounded slightly surprised about the latter but led them in all the same. A modern living room greeted them, but judging from the sounds, this party was taking place outdoors. Correct, for Aizen led them out onto a spacious, decorated lawn immediately. How charming... and yet, how awkward.
"I'll have my housekeeper get you drinks, whatever you'd like." He was calm but there seemed to be some hidden intuition behind the brown orbs. Byakuya picked it up but didn't elaborate.
"Mai tai!" Ukitake decided.
"...Scotch," Byakuya said. He had never been an avid drinker, but it was best to stay in Aizen's best interests. The vice president strode off to the side of the awning.
And then he saw her.
There, leaning against the pillar, was a young woman with deep black hair and fathomless blue eyes like pools, pools one gazed at but didn't think of jumping in and ruining the calm beauty. Her face curved upward, into the dark hair that fell over her face in the form of one strand that strikingly contrasted with her ivory skin. Her eyes were large and circular, and she gazed out at the overcast afternoon with a vacant disruption. Her nose was thin and small, like her mouth and the rest of her. She was a striking girl, even wearing a plain cotton dress, but her expression was that of unhappiness, even with her relaxed position.
Aizen spoke to her and gestured to the two men, which she responded to with a simple nod before hurrying off, skirt in her hands. The VP approached his workers again.
"They'll be here in a moment," he said proudly, as if he were the one working. Byakuya's eyes were on the pillar where she had been, a frown creasing his features. What was she doing here, with a face angelic enough to be nobility? He himself had come from such a family, one in which physical beauty was prized, but looks had never been his sole focus.
"Kuchiki?" said Ukitake.
"Yes?" Byakuya said stonily, shooting a blank look in his direction.
"That's the Harumei girl, from Yukio." The name of the neighborhood momentarily surprised him. This young woman was a product of the lowest social class, the bottom of the pyramid. She had been born to kiss the feet of people above her--nobles included, and as the Kuchiki heir thought of this it made him feel faintly for her. "Her name's Hisana."
And such a musical name. "Yes."
"The kid works two jobs, that's got to be tough." Two? Waiting on someone like Aizen hand and foot was haranguing enough, so Byakuya couldn't quite picture her as anything else. She was so beautiful and whole, but as he had looked at her there was something hidden beneath her eyes: a deep, brooding turmoil. He himself had never lived in poverty... what must that be like for a girl so frail-looking?
And just as he was thinking of her, the dark haired maiden rounded the corner, a tray in her hands and her eyes down. On the tray rested Ukitake's colorful drink and Byakuya's plain beverage, and she appeared to be having trouble with it. Seconds later it began to teeter dangerously, and without thinking he dashed over. They toppled over, Ukitake's first. Both drinks soiled his suit and Hisana was terrified.
"I..." she choked out, her face invaded by the color red. "Please accept my dearest apologies."
"I don't," Byakuya said simply. A gasp escaped her small lips and she looked like he had slapped her. "accept these apologies, because nothing that happened here today is your fault."
Realization slowly dawned on her face and was shortly replaced by modesty. "I knocked the tray over, milord..."
"Lord? I am no such thing." The pairs of blue eyes met for a moment. "I am an intern."
Hisana's lips opened slightly. "I... what shall I do now?"
"Sit down over there and we'll discuss this," he said, still expressionless but using a voice toned with slight warmth.
"I'm not allowed to speak to higher-ups," she said quietly, "and your job's more important than talking to a maid."
Big blue eyes looked up at him, and with a jolt Byakuya realized how young she looked. Fourteen, fifteen? Feeling like a pedophile, he looked off into the distance as Hisana took a seat near the awning on which she had been leaning. Feeling slightly detached from the moment now, Byakuya shifted his eyes to Ukitake, who was doing a rather annoying pantomime act for a slur of visitors. Deciding that Hisana was more interesting, he turned back to her.
"You're... Sosuke's housekeeper."
"Yes." She seemed slightly ashamed.
"He's a good man," Byakuya amended softly, "very... refined. There's no better business." He tried to smile at her, but his lips had not formed such a shape in a while so it came out as a tight grimace.
"I'd like to have no business with him at all," she murmured. Byakuya studied her face carefully, looking for any signs of mistreatment. But there were none, just tones of irritation in her soft white cheeks.
"Why is that?" he frowned, not in anger but thought. Although it was deeply profane, he lusted for her. She was... real. There was no other way of putting it. All the women he'd known... were power-hungry, ambitious and scornful of him for not marrying earlier. Occasionally one would try a bit too hard, but he was always a gentleman.
"He is... very... controlling, as if he owns me." Hisana's grip tightened slightly on the arm of her chair.
"Quit." Byakuya stated.
"Uhm... what do you... quit?" she was startled by the one word, as if this were the first time she had ever heard it.
"If you don't like your job, find a new one." It had never been an option for him, and helping Hisana gave him a sense of self justice. "I'm sure you could." That last bit he added truthfully, because other than the recent blunder she seemed to be working hard: he had seen his face on the floors and counters. "What's the second one?"
"I'm a waitress on the weekends," she stated softly, pulling apart a blade of grass. "My tips are mediocre, but most people are stingy nowadays." Dropping the shreds of grass, she smiled. "Oh well."
"You're happy with that job?" Byakuya questioned, as if he knew much about employment; his father had basically given it to him.
"The people are nice to me." She smiled, looking woebegone. "Do you like yours?"
"Hm?" this sudden question surprised him; no one had ever really asked about his profession straight to his face. "I'm fine with... what I do." Byakuya couldn't find another way to phrase it.
"That's good." Her voice was soft and feminine, but not shrewd or provocative. It was colored with stark innocence, purity that was plain. "Well, I'd better get back to work. I liked talking to you, um...?" Hisana wanted his name.
"Byakuya." He turned away, but rethought his actions. "Byakuya Kuchiki."
The dark haired young woman smiled and turned to leave the yard, re-entering the mansion through the back door. Byakuya found himself staring at it, as he had done with the pillar, and shook his head.
This was ridiculous... she was a child, a little girl, and he was staring after her like a... a... disgusted, Byakuya knitted his brows and turned back to the crowd, where Ukitake was waiting for him, looking slightly jarred.
"...Kuchiki?" he said uncertainly.
"Yes?" Byakuya felt like slapping him, but he didn't. This feeling of anger was deeply childish.
"She's a nice girl for sixteen," he added a slight emphasis to her age and sipped his drink, "but whatever works for you is fine, I guess." The white haired man shrugged.
"I don't have intentions, if that's what you're implying." His bluish eyes were flinty and cold, baring down upon the man who dared to entertain such notions about him.
"I was just saying that a man like you could have a lot of beautiful women, and you don't have to--" seeing the look on his associate's face, Ukitake shrugged again. Byakuya's shoulders tensed, readying himself to retaliate. "Let's just drop it."
"Yes, let's," Byakuya pressed his lips together and blinked hard. Upon opening his eyes his heart quivered; she stood only a few yards away now, speaking to her boss with a determined expression. His grimace softened into a slightly prideful expression, but underneath it lay a deep self-disappointment. When she had come into his line of sight his nervous system had jolted, another perverse reaction. This was getting to be... insane.
"Kuchiki," said Aizen suddenly, and the dark haired man was inwardly startled, "can I have a word?" Hisana was gone now; she was refilling a pitcher near the dessert table.
"Of course..." he replied cordially, his eyes still locked on her. Tearing himself away and turning to Aizen, Byakuya found himself following him around the tree to the brick wall, that was covered in lattice. The white wood was entwined with dark ivy, giving it a slightly sinister look. They were silent for a moment as Byakuya sipped his scotch and Aizen looked out at the sky.
"How would you feel if you were offered some sort of stock option... sharing program? Would that do anything for you?" the VP questioned from behind his glasses.
Byakuya felt a sickeningly pleasant blow to his stomach. "I'd enjoy that, yes... why the sudden consideration?" he had used the word once already, and it was a good one for the situation.
"I don't think I've been challenging you enough," he said, "and your calling is not in a cubicle, Kuchiki."
"Thank you." Byakuya's eyes roved back over to the slur of guests, drinking and carrying on like lunatics as Hisana catered to their every whim. It was somewhat sickening. "I'll do my best."
After that, she had been the only thought in his mind. The only one who haunted him, and the one who made him hate himself for lusting after a child. Byakuya had loved Hisana from that day on, but it had been months later when he finally told her so. His mind had been plagued by dreams, and followed by sleepless nights, and it had nearly driven him insane.
As he slowly climbed up the corporate ladder, the parties at Aizen's house took up more and more time on his calendar, and every single time she was there serving food, cleaning... it had made him sick, knowing that he should put her out of his mind and keep her away. Finally, at one party, he ventured down to the lake for some air and there she had been, her skin like marble in the moonlight. They spoke for what felt like an hour but was barely minutes.
"Hisana..." he said softly, his face impassive and the veins in his arm prominent as he clutched a rock. "I... even though I've known you for a short time... you are my best friend." Her face was thoughtful momentarily, but seconds later it was the most vivid red he had ever seen.
"How can..." Hisana said, looking frustrated. He knew she understood. "How can that possibly be? We're... different, you know." Neither of them were bold enough to throw the term around, but it was undeniable--the only reason he didn't skip these parties was because of her.
"I've known you for over a year now, and... though that isn't long, I enjoy you..." Byakuya wasn't sure who he was reasoning with, himself or Hisana. Maybe it had been to early to tell her his feelings... and yet he felt like time was running out.
"I do love being around you, you're very kind," she smiled wistfully, but shook her head. "But I don't see why you would want to be friends with someone like me." She dipped a finger in the water and moved it around for a moment, then submerged her entire hand. As soon as it surfaced, Byakuya saw a shining, smooth stone in her palm. "May I see that one?"
He handed her the stone that he had been squeezing. "I don't see why you'd want to make a fire in this heat."
"That's not what I'm trying to do," Hisana shook her head and opened her palms again, showing him the rough, craggy rock and the shining stone. "Do you see the resemblance?" her eyes were emanating within their pupils. Byakuya saw immediately what she meant.
"You refuse to see in color," he said quietly, "it seems you prefer black and white, where everything is stark and obvious. Even I know that there's more to a person than what meets the eye." He picked up the beautiful stone and held it up to her. "If this is meant to symbolize me... you must look closer."
Hisana examined the stone, her eyebrows knit. Realization took a while to dawn on her. "It has... tiny cracks in it..."
"And the only reason you think it is beautiful," he mused, "is because of what you see at first glance. When you really know a person, their flaws are obvious. It's up to you whether or not you can overlook them." There was a moment of silence during which she pondered his words, the sentences clicking in her mind, perfectly in sync with their meaning. "Hand me the rough one."
Hisana nodded and dropped the rock into his fingers, curiosity obvious on her features. Pleased with his explanation, Byakuya proceeded. "This one appears... troubled. It is quite wise, having been trodden on by beings higher than it." He felt it described her perfectly. "Look closely." She lowered her face to the rock, and her sweet breath lingered as she viewed it.
"It's... shining..." when magnified by the diminished distance, the rock had tiny pinpricks of gems inside it.
"So, what I'm saying is... those who appear beautiful are somewhat flawed..."
"And those who are appear flawed are beautiful," she finished with a somber look. That was the basic concept, but... there was so much more than that, to her and to the metaphor.
Byakuya smiled slightly, against his better judgment. "It's more than beautiful." The sky was pitch dark now, the moon hanging low to the ground with the clouds. It was the kind of night he had always enjoyed, but had never had the time to experience fully.
"Sometimes," Hisana said quietly, "I wish I were the moon. So I could shine and be thought of as... lovely."
As soon as the words left her lips, he replied, "There's no need to wish for that. You are lovely." She turned to look at him, nothing with surprise on her visage. Byakuya looked back, expressionless, to tell her he meant it and there were no hidden intentions. They were good friends, despite the fact that he was just under twice her age, and he loved talking to her.
"You're too nice to me," Hisana shook her head, "sometimes I wonder if this is some colossal joke, you know? But when I look at that face, it's never a joking one..." she held the rocks in her hands, one over the other, and her feet were curled under her on the ground.
"So you're saying I have no sense of humor?"
"What?" she jumped and stared at him.
"It was... a joke," he smirked slightly. Hisana frowned but then the expression softened into a slight smile.
That night had been a turning point for the two of them - she had always been the only one he wanted. But now, as she lay weak and tired upon her bedcovers, Byakuya wondered if those days had been spent in vain.
"Renji, wake up..." Akamori murmured, patting his back.
"I touched her once, one time, that's it..." Renji said in his sleep. What could he be dreaming about? Akamori rolled her eyes and sat up in bed, a romance novel in her fingers. This was the one Hisana had given her for Christmas the previous year, and she had never read it - now, it was one of the last connections she had to her family. "I'm not going to eat you, Mr. Penguin..." this was followed by a rather loud snore.
"RENJI!" she hollered, causing several birds on a nearby telephone line to flee. The red haired man stirred and looked at her with weary brown eyes.
"I was having," he said excitedly, "the best dream."
"I could tell." Dayglow eyes roved over the bedroom. "This place is a mess..." her lips curled. "I like it."
Renji nodded and turned on the television, his hair wild around his face. She liked him like this, regular bed-headish, because it freed her from her own life. Besides, he was funny and nice to her. What more could she... want...
"I have to tell you something," it had been eating at her conscience for days, driving a wedge between her and the rest of the world.
"Tell me you bought shaving cream yesterday," Renji's head whipped forward so quickly he almost cricked his neck.
"That's not it," Akamori's stomach churned unpleasantly.
"Well then, what is it?" he moved closer to her and took her wrist in his hand. The gesture did not ease her anxiety. "Is it good news or bad news?"
"Sort of... sort of both." She shrugged and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was there to stay. She couldn't meet his eyes and it felt a hundred degrees hotter in the tiny room.
"Tell me," Renji said.
As she looked into those eyes, Akamori felt like dropping over dead. He would be so mad at her. "I'm... I'm pregnant," she whispered, beginning to cry.
"You SMOKE!?" Rukia nearly screamed.
Toshiro took a long drag on the cigarette and raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know that?" he looked oddly regal holding it, but Rukia missed the little white haired boy who thought smoking was nasty. She shook her head lightly, eyes still on the cigarette. "Well, now you do." He exhaled and dropped the cigarette butt into the bushes below, repositioning himself upon the windowsill.
"It's not a good thing, you know," she reminded, looking at the glowing embers that lie in the leaves. "It hurts your lungs."
"The government knows nothing," he stated darkly, picking up a black cell phone from Akamori's former mattress. His sea foam eyes pondered it for a moment, and then he tapped out a message on the keys.
"Momo again, huh?" Rukia smiled sympathetically. Toshiro's best friend had been sending endless apologies, and his inbox was painfully clouded. He nodded once and sat down, his eyebrows knit as always. He hadn't been this way since ... since his parents had moved away from Shimomura and into Kimikan, since a smaller house meant more money on hand. Before then, the entire family had been perfect.
"School starts in a week, right?" he questioned, looking over at her through his peripheral vision.
"Yeah," she confirmed, picking at a bit of peeling paint on the wall. "Did you get your package yet?"
"Pardon?" the white brows went up so far they almost disappeared into his hair.
"They ship your schedule, your uniform, your dorm number..." Rukia was surprised he didn't know this yet, when a notification had been mailed three weeks ago. With a slight jolt she realized he was still living with his parents at that time, and it might not have gotten to him. "I'm on the Green Team," she announced.
"Good," he grimaced. "How many are there?"
"Three. Red, Green and Blue." She gave him a wry smile and read over her schedule:
"NAME: KUCHIKI, RUKIA GENDER: F GRADE: 10 DORMITORY #: 423A. DIVISION: GREEN
Course Title: Literature/Language 10. Instructor: Madarame, Ikkaku. Room: 244.
Course Title: Algebra II. Instructor: Ise, Nanao. Room: 327.
Course Title: World Cultures. Instructor: Ochi, Arane. Room: 942.
Course Title: Chinese Language. Instructor: Fon, Shaolin. Room: 574.
Course Title: Physical ED, Health. Instructor: Shiba, Kukaku. Room: Gymnasium.
Course Title: Lunch/Study Hall. Instructor: Madarame, Ikkaku. Room: 244.
Course Title: Chemic Science. Instructor: Hisagi, Shuuhei. Room: 392.
Course Title: Home Economics. Instructor: Shihoin Yoruichi. Room: 1000."
Toshiro snorted. "Cooking. Lovely." With a flick of the lighter he set another one ablaze, raising it to his mouth and enjoying it shamelessly. Although Rukia found smoking disgusting and wrong, she somewhat envied Toshiro for having an outlet, something to keep him busy. She herself had no distinguishing talents or quirks; she wondered how she had managed to make even the slightest amount of friends.
"My mom picked your classes," she informed him, slightly wary of his response. But he just nodded and took a drag, his emerald orbs on the sunrise. Whenever she came in here, he was looking out the window. It made her curious but she knew better than to ask him.
"I wonder if I'll have to share a dormitory..." he sighed thoughtfully. Rukia jumped at the opportunity for conversation.
"Well, I hope not. You don't even like sharing towels." With a wistful smile, Rukia's eyes wandered to a book on the bedside table with a sinister yet beautiful eye on the cover, its title written in an elegant italic font.
"The Host?" she raised an eyebrow. "You're reading that?"
"It's interesting," he amended blankly, "I think your sister left it here."
"I doubt that." Rukia shook her head. "She doesn't like to read books, she likes to live them." Akamori always had been a bit of a drama queen, and sometimes she wondered if she was a masochist - in this family, going for someone of Renji's caliber was the social equivalent to the term 'playing with fire'.
"Well then, it must be your mother's." Toshiro shrugged and tipped the ashes off. "It's unique."
He was quiet as Rukia studied him. His entire body was paler than she remembered, with dark shadows lingering under his eyes. They were nearly gone now that he had been getting sufficient sleep, but were noticeable all the same. All the childish roundness had disappeared, revealing hollowed cheeks and marionette-carved lips. Those he had gotten from his mother - Akamori shared the same basic visage. His shoulders had tightened more, and he was muscular - but still unhealthy. Dark bruises ran the length of his arms, and his neck was covered in sinister finger marks. There wasn't one inch of him that was clear, save his nose and forehead, and it scared her a lot. But all he would do was tell her it was nothing, just like always.
Toshiro sighed. "Maybe I should eat something." With one swift movement he flicked the cigarette out of sight and turned to his cousin.
"Uhm, yeah!" Rukia said nervously. "Definitely." She tried not to look like an idiot, but being family Toshiro saw past the flimsy disguise. Luckily he was respectful enough to overlook her blunders as they made their way down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Pancakes," she announced, thrusting at him the meal Hisana had prepared. He took it and with a resounding noise placed it on the table. When thrown a fork he began to eat ravenously. Rukia did the same, but with less fervor, as she had dipped into her secret food stash for a Twix bar earlier.
"I can't stand this," Ichigo declared, shooting an evil glance his father's way. "You idiot. Contacts don't cost that much!" he roared, tugging on the wiry glasses he had been forced to wear.
"Well, I like to conserve," Isshin amended, though unsuccessfully, because Ichigo still looked slightly insane. "Besides, you look very intelligent."
"Like a nerd," Ichigo muttered as a placid Yuzu walked over.
"You look like a scientist, Ichi-nii!" she stated, poking the lense. "Are you gonna wear them all the time now?"
"No way," he said.
"...I'm sure you'll love bumping into things," Karin shrugged, her eyes glued to some form of sports book. "Either that or you could get laser surgery, which costs a lot more."
"Since when do you know so much about eyes - Mother, our daughter is following in Daddy's footsteps, we Kurosaki's will be doctors togeth-"
"Dream on." Karin snapped her book shut and glared. "Anyway, stop talking like she can hear you, it's embarrassing." Steely blue eyes warned him to shut up, and Isshin pouted. If he thought that was cute he had another thing coming.
"All right," Ichigo whipped the glasses off and nearly slammed them in their case, "I'm only wearing these in class, got it? Let's go home..." he exhaled, tired of today. They had been running around, doing stupid errands since eight that morning. Sometimes Ichigo hated his father; he was way too clingy.
All righty then! Thanks for the reviews last chap, guys! I was originally aiming to make this 6500 words long, but in the end that proved to be way too much for me. Sorry, I'm no elitist... all right, well, a lot of ByaHisa and RenMori, but IchiRuki reappears next chap! How do you like them apples?! I was inspired by Titanic music for this chapter. Odd, I know, but whatever moves me moves me. I work hard on these chapters, so I'd really like it if you reviewed. Hits don't mean anything, people! Ah, well. Au revoir! -Craven