Chapter 3: Rivals

It was early. The air was thick with moisture and with the fragrance of plants gasping their last breaths. Yellows and oranges poured into the dimly lit chamber, painting the floors, walls, and occupants in shades of gold.

Byakuya sat seiza in front of his father. His muscles set in rigid tension. He could not sit straighter. He could not breathe slower, shallower. He could not be more still if he had tried. The family's oppression had finally reached his father's chambers, filling it. Byakuya just knew it.

"The Vice Captain of the Fourth mentioned that you wounded yourself during a simulation," Sōjun said, wrapping his fingers around his teacup. Thin wispy streams of steam reached up from the fragrant tea. He took a sip. The cup obscured his mouth, but his eyes were bright and locked on Byakuya.

Byakuya shifted under his father's gaze. Sōjun was respected for his amiable demeanor, eschewing the common characteristics of high nobility. The family's cunning and captious qualities never imbued his soul. Likely, he had inured to their machinations many long years ago. Byakuya wondered when it was that his father decided to become passive, docile. Had Sōjun been born knowing to appease? Byakuya scrutinized his father's face for a brief moment. Surely, Byakuya had inherited his tenacity from someone?

"Miss Hisana spoke truthfully," Byakuya responded sheepishly.

His father rarely referred to Hisana by her given name. She was always the "Vice Captain of the Fourth." It was a sign of respect. She had a title even if it did not attach to her from birth. She had earned her rank, and that was respectable in itself.

Byakuya, however, often referred to her by her given name. Sometimes he would tack on an honorific for the sake of pleasantries. His father never seemed irritated by his preference. Other members of the family loathed it. He could see it in their faces. Their disapproving stares and shakes of the head. The way some of his relatives cupped their mouths to shield their righteous indignation. "It suggests intimacy," his aunt had chastised him in her most rebuking of tones. The underlying sentiment was clear: Nobles are not to be or appear to be intimate with a peasant, no matter how highly regarded the peasant was among the Gotei 13.

"How is it healing?" Sōjun asked quietly. He lifted his head as if to revise his question, but some unseen force quieted him.

Byakuya blinked. The question spoken was not the question written on his father's face. The question lingering over them, left unsaid was, 'Why did you not tell me?' Perhaps there was a tinge of concern regarding just how close he felt to Hisana. His mental proximity to Hisana was a thing that his family unanimously despised.

His father, however, never made his disapprobation known about the relationship. In fact, he had sought her out to teach his son. Rumor and innuendo suggested that he had to do a lot of fast-talking to induce her to accept his offer. The last healing kido master had quit in dramatic fashion. Byakuya's reticence to learn the lesser kido form left his former master frustrated and angry.

Since Hisana was under Sōjun's employ, only Sōjun could dismiss her. This was a source of consternation in the family. If it had been anyone else, the family would have fired her. Sōjun, however, never spoke of such intentions despite the family's wishes. He likely knew, or, at least, Byakuya's aunt had informed him of Byakuya's reckless behavior. The only quasi-related sentiment Sōjun had spoken to Byakuya regarded the miai. Sōjun expressed his empathy, noting that the situation was an awkward one.

He never asked Byakuya about Hisana. Perhaps his father was truly indifferent. Perhaps he believed it was a fleeting thing—a student's fancy that would turn to some new intrigue in a few months.

Byakuya took a moment to fashion a response and to determine which question he should answer first. "Well. She is very skilled." He went with the facile, the plainly stated. He did not want to rouse his father's suspicions if Sōjun was blissfully unaware. (He wasn't.)

Sōjun's gaze dipped into his teacup. A sober expression bent the lines of his face downward. He seemed contemplative; he seemed not entirely happy with the source of his contemplation. "Your aunt mentioned that you missed your last session."

Byakuya rolled his eyes. The movement would have been imperceptible to all but the keenest of eyes. His father, however, possessed such eyes, and he chuckled. "It was by design, no doubt?" Sōjun watched his son squirm under the question's weight. "You did not merely forget?"

Byakuya scowled. His gaze dropped to the tatami mats. He exhaled a small sigh. A sudden but complete hatred of his aunt washed over him. The feeling heated his soul, bubbling and spilling over.

"Of course it was," Sōjun mused to himself as if to say, 'How could it have been any other way?' He didn't say the words. He didn't have to. It was written clearly on his face. "You don't think it matters. You have better things with which to be occupying your mind?" Sōjun's voice was equal parts warm and understanding. He spoke from experience. These were likely the things he told himself when he was Byakuya's age.

Byakuya's eyes flitted up to meet his father's gaze. "I was studying for my exams," he murmured, unconvincingly.

Sōjun smiled. "Of course," he said incredulously. "Your aunt tells me that you showed some interest in Lady Rei."

Byakuya's scowl sank into a frown. "Lady Rei doesn't want to be my wife any more than I want to be her husband."

Sōjun's smile widened. "No. I assume she does not," he said, placing his teacup on its saucer. "I don't think any man would interest her."

Byakuya's brows lifted, slightly.

"She has pledged herself to another noble."

"A woman?" Byakuya asked, hoping that he had accurately read between the lines.

Sōjun inhaled a deep breath as he poured himself another cup. "I believe so. Her family, however, would never approve of such a match." He paused, placing the teapot down, and he lifted his chin. "Your aunt sends her regrets, but she believes that Lady Rei is unsuitable given the recent investigation."

Byakuya's gaze shifted from the floor, to his father, to the garden, and then back to the floor. He wanted to laugh. Maybe such a match could work? Low expectations.

"You seem perturbed by this news," Sōjun stated, amused. His brows lifted, and a strange worried smile thinned his lips. "But, you are not entirely surprised." More worry.

Byakuya's lips parted as he searched for a proper response. None flew to mind. He came up empty. Not even a word to revise.

"Your aunt thinks your mind is preoccupied." The words hovered over them, threatening to explode at any moment.

Byakuya looked down, hoping to hide his thoughts. He felt suddenly transparent. How could he have been so unskillful? So bumbling? Were his thoughts so easily discernable? He never believed they were. He hid them well under brazen words and brash actions. Perhaps his quietness around her had exposed him? Was it the way he looked at her? In a second, he scanned his mental inventory, hoping to discover his mistakes.

"Perhaps you are too young still. You have different priorities. Maybe it is possible for me to convince your grandfather and your aunt to extend this decision." Sōjun took another sip of tea.

Byakuya's eyes widened and shot up to his father, beseechingly. Hope gleamed in his look. A silent plea caught in his gaze. He prayed that his father could spare him this decision for a few years, at least. Millennia would have been preferable.

Sōjun flashed a solemn but knowing smile. He knew he was only sparing Byakuya from the inevitable. Ultimately, Ginrei would have his way. But, now? Byakuya's infatuation was too fresh and too deep for anything but disaster to come from the miai. Unlike Byakuya's aunt, Sōjun did not believe the throes of infatuation could be so easily diverted.

"Have you ever heard the story of the three arrows?" Sōjun asked, hoping to cut through the tense gravity that blanketed the room.

Byakuya looked up at his father, weak-eyed and questioningly.

Sōjun smiled.

. . . .

"Vice Captain Ichimaru," Hisana called sweetly. She played bubbly and bumbling with equal flare. Her large eyes were open extra wide and expressed an extra glint of innocent naivety. She was good at pretending, at playing a part. And, when she saw Gin Ichimaru zero in on his latest, and favorite, source of entertainment, she had no choice but to intervene. Her sense of decency demanded it. It also helped that her favorite pupil was in the crosshairs. Even if it was deservedly so. But, Ichimaru was cold and slippery, like a snake. She could not approach the situation directly. He would slither away, or, worse, he would strike.

"It is so good to see you," she said, pouring on the stupid as thickly as possible. Her voice was light and canorous, and she wore the warmest and widest smile that she could muster.

Gin turned. His cold eyes slid right over her, right through her. She successfully repressed the urge to shiver, but her hackles rose nonetheless. "Vice Captain Hisana," he replied in a soft thick Rukon drawl. His eyes squinted up, and his infernal smile lengthened. He was good at playing stupid, too. Perhaps it was a skill they shared from their Rukongai heritage.

"It is such a lovely day. I am surprised that you are not out harvesting persimmons. They should be coming into season. I rather enjoyed your pickled persimmons last spring," she blurted out, setting her cadence to Gatling gun mode. The words could not have escaped her lips at a quicker rate.

Gin cocked his head to the side. His smile faded, and his eyes opened slightly. "Yes," he said softly, "I do like the fruit ripe—plucked fresh right off the vine." His gaze shifted briefly to his victim.

Hisana's smile widened. She felt the muscles of her face stretch like thin cable cords, taut and twitching slightly at the tension. Clearly, Gin had made some sort of double entendre. Hisana, however, was missing the pieces, but, given his imagery, she suspected it was sexual in nature. "I could assist you," she said in her best syrupy sing-song voice. She nearly gagged on the words (or was it the smile?) they were so thick.

"No need, Vice Captain Hisana. I will be sure to remember you when I go out."

"Please do!" she squealed with manufactured delight. "I will make that persimmon-flavored cough syrup for you to keep on hand for any chest colds you might develop over the coming winter." Her expression was warm and bright. She had surgically removed any trace of intelligible thought from her face. "It is going to be a long winter," she said darkly. Her smile slipped for a moment, and the bright glint in her eyes dimmed.

Gin understood her look. His smile stiffened, solidifying on his face. He nodded in her direction before turning to his victim, "Send your father my regards," he said warningly before leaving.

Hisana's smile fell, and, suddenly, every muscle in her face cried out in pain from overuse. Stinging, burning pain. Her index and middle finger rubbed gentle circles against her jawline. "Too much?" she asked slyly, eyeing Byakuya.

He shot her a guarded stare. "A little," he murmured, cagey.

A small genuine smile thinned her lips. "When is your examination?" she asked, taking a few steps forward, toward her division. Byakuya followed her, likely relieved that she had not asked him about his altercation with Ichimaru.

"It has been delayed."

Hisana nodded her head. Realization lit her brain. "Yes, of course," she murmured to herself. A faraway look caught in her eyes.

Byakuya clearly did not understand her meaning. "You know the reason?"

She gave him a perplexed sidelong gaze. "Did they not tell you?" She paused only for a moment to search his face. He stared down at her blankly. "The divisions are pulling their resources for a major operation. I am surprised that your father has not mentioned it."

"Why?" Byakuya had tried to tame the panic from his visage, but Hisana could tell the news upset the young lord. It was his right. Sōjun was not fully restored. He had no place in battle.

"The Sixth is the division leading the operation." Even to her ears, she sounded disheartened. Hisana pressed her lips together, and she offered Byakuya a conciliatory look.

Byakuya's gaze flickered to the path winding in front of him. And, for the briefest of moments, she could feel his reiatsu flare. "Will the Fourth?" he began but stopped suddenly. He did not have the heart to finish.

Hisana's brows furrowed. A warm empathy filled her. "No." The finality of her response proved too cruel. She quickly added, "But I am in charge of setting beds and stocking supplies just in case." The statement sounded more soothing in her head. Spoken aloud, it sounded like a harsh indictment of the plan. "They won't need it." It was a hollow assurance made hollower by her previous statements.

Nearing the Fourth, the pair paused. Hisana observed the young lord with the softest of stares. "If you need anything," she began, but halted, realizing that the statement was meant to make her feel better, more in control, and was less about his feelings. He needed time to process whatever it was he felt.

Stoic indifference neutralized his expression. His eyes darkened. His lips bent downward. The muscles around his eyes, forehead, and jaw went slack. He and only he knew his feelings.

Byakuya gave a shallow bow of his head before pivoting on the heel of his feet. A silent farewell. She watched him for the moment it took for him to dart across the Seireitei. "Please," she sighed to herself. There were so many ways to end that plea. She hadn't quite decided on one as she crossed into the Fourth.

For hours, she made arrangements. For hours, she met with various squads of the Fourth, ensuring that everyone was well prepared. For hours, she waited. Her mind played through numerous scenarios. None of them was good. All of them ended in tragedy. It was a rare event, indeed, that the Fourth had to make arrangements beforehand, and Unohana had been very particular with her orders.

'It is just that risky,' Hisana thought to herself, folding the same blanket for the millionth time. 'No,' her inner-optimist chided her, 'it is a precaution. The mission is risky, sure, but these are skilled Shinigami. Prudence.'

Then, her mind drew to thoughts of Sōjun. He was not well enough to handle such a demanding task. When she met with him only a day ago, he was noncommittal about returning to his post. What had changed his mind? Briefly, she prayed it had not been something she had said.

Her hands violently unfurled the blanket again. She pulled the corners up, pressing the warm material against her chest. While performing the perfunctory movements, her eyes drifted to the window. The night fell dark and heavy. The window was slightly ajar, and she could feel the cold thick chill of the autumn air skate over her arm before sinking into her marrow.

It was late, and nothing—no word from the squads. Folding down the corners of the blanket, Hisana sighed. A moment of relief swept through her, slowing the drumming beat of her heart and assuaging the flurry of thoughts.

Then, her relief came crashing to an end with a simple question, "Vice Captain?"

Hisana's heart sank. She could feel it drop. She could feel it descend into her stomach. Her breath caught cold in her throat, sending icy prickles trailing up and down her spine. Wide-eyed, she glanced up.

Her subordinate stood forebodingly in the doorway. Shadows, heavy and velvety, painted the Shinigami in the darkest of shades. She stood in the doorway like a harbinger of death. The girl was young, likely a first-year. Her eyes were wide and glossy, and her face had a ghostly pallor.

Bad news lingered on her lips. "It is an emergency," she said meekly. Her voice trembled belying the gravity of it all in a few words. "Vice Captain Sōjun has been felled."

. . . .

Kaien strolled into the Thirteenth at an ungodly hour. It was 3 AM. No one should have to be on patrols until 3 AM. Boring, meaningless patrols. Didn't he have subordinates for that type of thing? he groused to himself.

Bleary-eyed and famished, he stopped short a few paces through the Thirteenth's gates, and he stared into the firmament. Dawn was a long ways away, he noted solemnly. There was only cold oppressive darkness for miles.

"There you are!" Miyako cried out.

Kaien started at the sound of his wife's voice. It was urgent but guarded. Something horrible had happened. He turned into the sound of her footfalls, unusually heavy and quick. Suddenly, the exhaustion that had sunk into his sinews moments prior melted. He felt like a snake, shedding its skin. "What is it?" he asked, barely able to make out her face through the darkness.

"There is an emergency Captain's meeting," she said shoving a note at his face.

He took it, knowing that he could not read the parchment in the heavy shade. "I can't," he began staring into the dark greys and blues obscuring the hastily written calligraphy. It was no use. He needed a light.

"Go to the First, hurry!" she said, anticipating his confusion. With a sharp shove, she thrust him forward. "Go!"

Off he went.

The trek to the First took a few minutes. He slipped in just before the doors closed. He gave an apologetic smile to Chōjirō Sasakibe before filing into line behind Ukitake, who appeared relieved to see him.

Nervously, he surveyed the room. The Captain-Commander stood, presiding, and his Vice Captain stood dutifully behind him. Suì-Fēng was poised with breast out and head held high, and her Vice Captain was cleaning his ears behind her.

Shaking his head, Kaien's gaze immediately flew over to Unohana. She appeared calm and collected, but the unmistakable shine of sweat on her forehead caught the pale silver of the moonlight.

His heart stuttered when he caught a glimpse of Hisana.

Darkness clung to her, and, for a moment, he thought she had stepped into some bad shade when realization crashed over him. It wasn't the shadow that painted her. It was blood. Blood covered her from stem to sternum. Blood and sweat, slick and wet pulled the moonbeams. She looked shocked, panicked, struggling to breathe. Her neck strained, and he could see the dip between her clavicles deepen with each inhalation. Likely feeling the burn of his eyes on her, her gaze locked on his. Her lips trembled, and that was when it hit him.

No one from the Third or the Sixth stood in line.

His gaze shifted to their respective positions. Empty space. Dark empty space.

His eyes returned to Hisana. With a single fleeting glance, she told him everything he needed to know: The Divisions were decimated. The mission? Failed. She was likely coated in the blood of the Vice Captains, and Unohana's sweat came from laboring over the Captains. Their presence at the meeting only signaled the fact that the Shinigami either had been stabilized or had perished.

Kaien lowered his head, lost in thought. A thousand possibilities assailed him. His brain worked a mile a minute to sort through the various combinations. Words crashed over him from various parties, but they did not reach him. They did not penetrate his mental fog.

Not until Unohana spoke.

Her voice was eerily quiet and collected. "Captain Kuchiki is stabilized," she murmured respectfully. When she was asked about the Third's Captain, she inclined her head, "He has passed."

Hisana answered for the Vice Captains. "The Third's Vice Captain is stable. Prognosis: 85% survival rate."

"The Sixth's Vice Captain?" It was Yamamoto who posed the questions.

Hisana shook, and she lowered her head. Her strength failed her, and Kaien watched the cracks spread across her features. "Vice Captain Sōjun Kuchiki is dead," she managed in a thin strained voice. Her gaze remained glued to the ground. She did not move from that position for the rest of the meeting.

"The location of the King's Fire?" Yamamoto asked, directing his question to Isshin.

"Unknown."

Kaien could almost feel the air pressure in the room drop. It was going to be a long night. It was going to be a long week at this rate.

Author's Note:

Torianime246: I really appreciate the review! I do read many things (mostly not by choice).

Rose Attack: Thanks so much! I am glad you like the characterization of Sojun and Aunt.

To everyone who reads, thanks so much!