Chapter 9: Defiance
"It is a lovely day." Lady Nanako's voice pulled at Byakuya's strings of awareness.
"A bit cool though," she observed, feeling his gaze heat her cheek. Gracefully, she brought her teacup to her brightly painted lips. As she took a sip, her large eyes loomed over the brim of the cup, watching him intently.
She knew something was weighing on his mind. Even if she swept her intuition away with mindless words, she knew he was uncomfortable all the same.
How are you feeling, milord?
It is a lovely day.
A bit cold though.
Every time they met, it was always the same. They had tea in the room overlooking the garden. Byakuya would stare into the garden endlessly while Lady Nanako tried her best to focus his attention. She always inquired about his health, his interests, his day, his thoughts on the weather.
None of it meant anything. It was all empty words with emptier purposes.
Byakuya inclined his head. His eyes, icy and steely, met her gaze. He wondered if she had discerned the source of his dissatisfaction.
Probably not.
She likely thought the arranged marriage discomfited him. They were practically strangers, after all. He, however, did not think too deeply or too long about the pending nuptials. He had other thoughts to keep his mind busy. He had other plans, aspirations, and hopes.
No, he was too preoccupied.
He felt trapped, cloistered in his head. Perhaps that was his grandfather's intention. His grandfather expected him to arrive for duty at the Sixth tomorrow. Not that day—no, not the day of the pronouncement. The following day. The same day when Hisana and her band of travelers were scheduled to leave.
He would be helpless tomorrow.
He felt helpless then.
Waiting.
He stared out into the garden, hoping for news. Praying for news. Anything would do.
"Is there something troubling milord?" she asked, setting the cup down. The gentle tickling of porcelain against porcelain rang through the air, eclipsing her words.
When he did not respond, she asked again, "Something the matter?" She cocked her head to the side. A little wrinkle formed between her eyes.
Byakuya averted his gaze to the floor. He shook his head. The corners of his mouth sloped down.
A small winsome smile lengthened her lips. "But there is something you'd rather be doing?"
Of course, he would rather be doing other things. His attention was clearly set on something beyond the room. He could barely spare a glance her direction, and words came at an even greater premium.
He simply had nothing to say to Lady Nanako.
His feelings, problems, and hopes would have been incomprehensible to her. She was something other, belonging to a culture that was unlike the one he knew. She was not a Shinigami nor did she have aspirations of becoming one. Her father was an investor—a good investor by all accounts but only an investor. Her mother was a self-described artiste, who designed haut couture kimono. The creations were expensive and highly prized, but, to Byakuya, they were mere garments.
Lady Nanako likely had her own passions and aspirations—passions and aspirations that would have been unfathomable to him. Byakuya, however, was not intent on learning about them. Not then, at least. Perhaps not ever.
"Someone you'd rather be seeing?" she noted perceptively.
Shock, pure and electric, jolted him. He was about to say something, anything, that would exculpate him.
Lady Nanako smiled and shot him a bittersweet glance. "Your feud with Vice Captain Shiba is infamous, but surely, you will wish him well."
Byakuya's brows furrowed at her logic.
Did she know something? If so, how and what? There were so many questions, and he was in the process of sorting them out in his head when she interrupted him.
"Do you not know?" she murmured.
He searched her face for the answer. "Kaien was selected?" The words sounded foreign, mechanical to his ears. He could hardly believe it. When had the selections been announced? How did Nanako know? More importantly, how did Nanako know and he did not?
Before she had the chance to reply to his question, he interrupted her. "Who else?" His stony façade crumbled into a wild look.
She blinked, somewhat taken aback. Nervously, her fingers, thin and nimble, curled around the edges of her sitting mat. A breath hitched in her throat.
He could tell that his intensity unsettled her, but he didn't care. He wanted to know. He needed to know. Anything and everything. Right then.
"Lord Byakuya," she murmured under her breath, "I am sorry. Vice Captain Hisana selected Vice Captains Shiba and Ichimaru."
"She was permitted three," Byakuya noted. While his tone was matter-of-fact, his eyes belied his sense of urgency. "And how do you know this?" His cadence was steady and strong, but his tone was incredulous.
Nanako lowered her head and scooted to the edge of her sitting mat. "My brother is a Shinigami. We were worried about him so he sent a transmission when he realized that he was free."
Byakuya's eyes narrowed when she uttered the final word. Free. Free of what? Responsibility? The sentiment disgusted him; it left an acerbic taste in his mouth. "Who was the third?"
Nanako lifted her head. Worriment danced in her dark eyes. "There are only three—Vice Captains Hisana, Shiba, and Ichimaru," she murmured.
He lost his sense of control for a moment. His restraints broke. It was sudden and unintentional, but his spiritual energy spewed forth, and she trembled like a leaf in the wind.
Realizing his mistake, he immediately shackled his feelings. His posture snapped up; his back became ramrod straight. His countenance became unreadable. His thoughts and motives were unknowable. He had spent years practicing this face—a look that only revealed his sense of superiority.
He did not feel particularly superior then, however.
It was a practiced sort of artifice.
Lady Nanako, however, was still gasping. Small coughs climbed up her throat and puffed out of her mouth. Pressing her sleeved arm against her lips, she tried her best to conceal the unladylike noises rumbling in her throat. "Lord Byakuya," she began hoarsely, pawing at her neck, "the Vice Captain selected another Shinigami, but the captain refused. My brother did not disclose this Shinigami's identity."
Byakuya's jaw clenched at the news. It would be highly unusual for a captain to refuse such a request. Offending the Fourth so brazenly would have been a foolish. No wounded man wanted to worry about the motives of his physician while he lay prostrate on an operating table.
The only unit that could be so brazen, so paralyzingly stupid was the Eleventh.
The Eleventh's captain, however, would not have refused the request. The Eleventh's intense dislike of the Fourth stemmed from the fact that the Fourth assumed a primarily supportive function. This mission, however, would have played to the Eleventh's strengths—brutality. The potential to face rebel forces and decimate them would have proven too tantalizing. The potential risks were high, but the potential rewards were high as well.
That meant the captain in question was protecting his subordinate beyond what the boundaries of professionalism would have demanded. For a moment, Byakuya considered Captain Shunsui Kyōraku. Shunsui was very close to his subordinate, Nanao Ise. Hisana, however, would not have selected Ise. Ise was younger than Hisana, and Ise lacked the requisite experience. She wasn't hard enough. She wasn't ruthless. She was intelligent, true. She had been a child prodigy. But, cunning was not an essential skill for this mission, and there were other hardier Shinigami who were exceptionally clever.
If not Ise, then who?
As soon as his mind formed the question, the answer dawned on him, bearing down on him like a ton of bricks. His breath caught in his chest, and his complexion blanched.
His name had been the fated name.
His grandfather had been the captain to refuse the request.
His absence left Hisana with one less guardian.
"Lord Byakuya?" Nanako cried. Fear glistened in her eyes as he stood.
"Excuse me." His voice was broken and thin. His disbelief was apparent.
It felt surreal. It felt painful. It felt like he had been punched in the gut.
His heart skipped and stammered in his chest. Anger pulled his breath as he slid back the door. A warm contempt churned in his stomach, providing more fuel for his vexation.
He knew what he had to do next.
He would ascertain the truth. He would redress the wrong against Hisana. He would regain the pride stolen by his father's death.
After all, he was no stranger to acts of defiance.
. . . .
"You announced your love for Byakuya, and you were shot down?"
It was a little too early in the afternoon for Rangiku to be as inebriated at she was.
"How romantic!" she continued, waving her arms above her head in dramatic fashion as she melted into the couch.
Hisana stared blankly ahead. "I brought you a gift," she said.
"Nobles are bastards, anyway," Rangiku mewed, jabbing the air with her finger. She then snapped up into seated position and stared fiercely in Hisana's direction. "You know what?" Her brows curved down over narrowed eyes.
Hisana glanced behind her for a moment, praying that she had closed the door on her way into the room.
"Screw 'em!"
Rangiku clearly had lost her mind.
"Are you well?" Hisana asked, sheepishly taking a step deeper inside the room. Uncertain of what strange flight of fancy might next seize her close ally.
"I'm fine!" Rangiku bellowed as she raised her arm over her face, her sleeves slapping against her cheek. "It's you!" Violently, she tore the newspaper from a nearby table and waved the flimsy newsprint in front of Hisana. "Look, it's you!"
Hisana took a few cautious steps closer. Her brows furrowed, and her gaze became probing. "Page six," she groaned, eyes beginning to roll up into her head. She exhaled a deep breath. "What does it say?" she asked, bracing herself for the worst. While she had to admit that the Ninth Division did an admirable job at putting together a newspaper, the Division was prone to certain embellishments. For some reason or another, Byakuya had become the gossip column's newest target. (Or, rather, recycled target.)
"You and he clearly pictured! See!" Rangiku thrust the black and white photo toward Hisana's face.
Hisana lowered her head and frowned. It was a picture of them. Just how clearly it was a picture of them, however, was up for debate. Their faces were blurry—the print was so dark and grainy—but the form of an embracing couple was clear.
"But, see here! He's getting hitched!" Rangiku pointed to the relevant paragraph. "And it isn't to you."
Hisana's lips thinned into a knowing smile. "Yes, I am aware," she said, reading the name.
"You're aware?" Rangiku seemed genuinely confused-as if it was inconceivable to her that Hisana could be so calm yet so aware at the same time.
"Indeed. It is probably his betrothed in that poorly lit photograph there," Hisana suggested evenly. There was no point in owning up to the truth. All it would do would cause grief for Byakuya, the Kuchiki family, and his fiancée.
Rangiku sharply snapped the newspaper free of creases, and she pored over the picture. "I suppose that is possible," she muttered. "So, you aren't in love with Byakuya Kuchiki?"
Hisana's face hardened at the suggestion.
"Jeez," Rangiku sighed, sinking back into the couch, "Whadda relief!"
Hisana forced a conciliatory smile. "Here." She offered Rangiku a wrapped parcel.
"What's this?"
"A gift."
"For what?" Eagerly, Rangiku tore the brown paper back and squealed with delight over the sake.
"A parting gift," Hisana murmured, choking back her true reason—her guilt at snatching Gin Ichimaru away, perhaps permanently.
"Aw!" Rangiku threw an arm around Hisana's shoulders. "I think you got it backward, though."
"No, no, no." Hisana raised an arm defensively against the suggestion.
"Here!" Rangiku pulled off a small gold bracelet from her wrist and stuffed it in Hisana's hand. "Take it! It's a good luck charm!"
"Oh?" Hisana murmured incredulously.
"Yeah! I bought it, and the next day I won a raffle."
"What was the raffle for?"
Rangiku stared down at Hisana. Her lips snapped shut as if she was afraid a secret might escape. "Oh, y'know."
Hisana nodded her head empathetically. No, she did not know. And, no, she did not want to find out. "Oh, of course."
"You're going to make an appearance at the celebration tonight, right?" Rangiku asked. Her eyes became wide and probing.
Hisana nodded apprehensively. It was a strange thing—having a celebration dinner right before the three were to leave.
"Of course," she said, feigning effervescence.
. . . .
Byakuya waited patiently outside his grandfather's office. After an hour of silent meditation, the door creaked. His eyes opened, and he turned his head languidly toward the door as it rustled back on its track.
Byakuya was fully prepared to see Ginjirō Shirogane, the Sixth's Vice Captain pro tempore, emerge from his grandfather's office. But, to his shock, the figure that crossed the threshold wasn't Shirogane.
It was Captain Unohana.
The Captain of the Fourth smiled her farewell into the room before turning to face Byakuya. "Lord Kuchiki," she said, a mixture of apprehension and confusion swirled in her eyes, "good afternoon." She bowed her head politely.
He stood upon seeing her. So many thoughts and questions flew into his mind. He had so many things to say to the Captain. He wanted to inquire after Hisana. He wanted to apologize for the debacle. He wanted to pledge his skills to the mission.
"Good afternoon, Captain," he said instead, stoically.
Etiquette stifled the words and calmed his heart. The feeling was fleeting, however. The instant she disappeared around a corner, regret bubbled in his chest.
"Byakuya," his grandfather's voice, low but clear, beckoned. Ginrei, however, refused to acknowledge his grandson as Byakuya stepped across the threshold. Instead, he continued to pen a letter. His brush continued to flow across the page, unbroken, as Byakuya took a seat.
Proper seiza.
Every muscle in Byakuya's body snapped into rigid position. His back was ramrod straight. His chest held high. His shoulders pulled back slightly. His gaze was piercing, and his face was inscrutable.
"You surely have some request. A reckless one, perhaps," Ginrei's voice rumbled, rippling through the air.
Byakuya stiffened. Ginrei knew his purpose; he knew Byakuya's reason for being there in that office. And, yet, Ginrei could not have been less interested. It was apparent to Byakuya that his grandfather's decision had already been made, and no amount of pretty words or empty threats was was going to change it.
Byakuya inclined his head. "You refused the Vice Captain's request." It was not a question. He was beyond playing games—games that Ginrei was surely more adept at playing.
Ginrei remained unfazed. The bristles of his brush glided against the smooth paper. He turned the page and continued writing. "Was that a question?" he asked after the silence became unbearable. "I never stated that I had not denied the request. I do not understand your point. Try again."
"You did not consult me regarding the decision," Byakuya stated plainly.
"The Sixth is not run by Committee, boy. You would do well to remember that."
Byakuya studied his grandfather thoughtfully. His respect for his grandfather was boundless, but he could not abide this fate. "I will accompany the Vice Captain."
The words stopped flowing across the page. Ginrei set the brush down on its stand, and he lifted his head. A stony look veiled his face and his thoughts. Unreadable. Ginrei Kuchiki was perfectly unreadable. "Is that a question?" he asked sharply.
Byakuya could detect the derision burning at the edges of Ginrei's voice. "It is a professional courtesy."
Ginrei leveled an icy gaze at Byakuya. "You are expected at the Sixth tomorrow."
The threat was implicit, but uninspiring: If he did not play by Ginrei's rules then he would be denied his position at the Sixth. "I will be serving the Sixth tomorrow," Byakuya stated matter-of-factly.
"You have no orders." Ginrei shifted in his seat, plucked his writing brush from its rest, and he began writing. The muscles of his hand were taut, and his strokes were clipped and tight. "You will arrive at the Sixth, ready for duty at 600 hours tomorrow. You will be given your orders then."
Byakuya closed his eyes and breathed a slow breath. "I request to reinstate the Vice Captain's orders. It is my last request as a youth."
Ginrei lifted his head and stared down at his grandson. "Your last request?" He seemed skeptical of such a claim.
Byakuya opened his eyes. "Yes. I will do whatever the family wishes after."
Ginrei looked unconvinced. "Your obedience is expected regardless," he stated drily. Ginrei, however, was all too acutely aware that his grandson's obedience was rarely consistent. The offer was too good to be true. But, one look into his grandson's eyes, and he was convinced that Byakuya was utterly earnest.
Byakuya's glacial expression hid his true thoughts. "It is my final request," he repeated. A resolute look set his dark eyes aflame.
Ginrei's lips sloped into a frown, and he returned to his calligraphy. "You are dismissed," he murmured.
Byakuya bowed before taking his leave. Reaching the threshold, Byakuya lifted his hand to pull the door back. His fingertips skated across the cool smooth wood, but his grandfather's voice stopped him.
"I hope a purpose beyond revenge resides within your heart, Byakuya; otherwise, you will perish."
. . . .
"Foregoing an additional comrade?! Are you mad?" Miyako had put on her best scolding mother voice. Folding her arms in front of her chest, she gave a slow disapproving shake of her head.
Hisana smiled weakly. "Four is an unlucky number?" She had meant to give a declarative statement, but it ended up a question at the last minute.
"Superstition, now?" Miyako quirked a brow.
Hisana lifted her head, closed her eyes, and inhaled a deep breath. "Many years ago there was a wise lord, and this wise lord had three sons. One day, the wise lord gave each of his sons an arrow, and he asked his sons to snap their arrows. They did so with ease. He then gave each son three arrows, and he made the same request. When his sons were unable to snap the arrows, the wise lord explained that one arrow could be broken easily, but three arrows held together would not."
Miyako tucked her chin toward her neck. "I fail to see your point."
Hisana opened her eyes and exhaled. "Three is a workable team."
Miyako shook her head. "That wasn't the point at all. It is about teamwork. I bet if he had four sons, he would have given them four arrows. Plus, what is the point of an arrow without a bow, anyway?"
Hisana's gaze drifted to the floorboards, and her lips curved into a frown.
Miyako cocked her head to the side as she thought further of the story. "And if you have three arrows and a bow then you have four items. Just think of yourself as the bow, Hisana, and your companions as the three arrows."
"I believe we have digressed," Hisana muttered, unconvinced. "Here," she said, remembering the reason she came to visit Miyako in the first place. "I come bearing gifts." She proffered a small wrapped parcel. "It is ohagi."
"Oh, Hisana, you shouldn't have!" Miyako said, pulling the checkered cloth from the bento box. She smiled up at Hisana. A bittersweet look melted her prior disapprobation.
Hisana bowed her head. Her eyes fell to her feet, and her heart drummed a heavy beat. She truly regretted selecting Kaien.
"I know this is going to sound stupid, but Kaien has this theory. He thinks that it is important to die with close friends because, when you die, your spiritual particles disperse, and if you have a friend there then your spirit gets to live on with that person."
Hisana inclined her gaze. A small broken smile tugged a corner of her mouth up. "I don't think that sounds stupid at all."
"I was happy that you selected Kaien," Miyako said gently. "I like to think that through him, a piece of you and a piece of me will continue to be friends."
Hisana glanced up wistfully. "I like that theory."
"Here, to ease your thoughts." Miyako handed Hisana a cup of piping hot green tea.
At first, Hisana raised her hands, palms up to Miyako. "I'm afraid that I need to be leaving soon," she countered politely.
"Nonsense," Miyako insisted, "that meeting isn't for another fifteen minutes." She shoved the cast iron cup into Hisana's hands. "When Kaien gets back from training, he will escort you to the Second. You won't get into trouble if you are both late."
Hisana gave Miyako a worried look before joining her on the sitting mats. "Vice Captain Shiba is training?"
"Of course!" Miyako's eyes widened as if it were only natural. "He takes this mission very seriously."
Hisana shook her head. "I'm sorry. I just—I—well…" She swallowed. Hard. Clearing her thoughts, she inhaled a deep breath before continuing. "I don't think it will be necessary."
Miyako tilted her head to the side. Concern glazed her eyes and pulled the lines of her face down. "Why?" she asked softly. Perhaps she had already ascertained the reason, and that was why her demeanor suddenly changed. Perhaps the mere suggestion that training would not solve everything troubled her.
Hisana glanced down somberly. She could not quite speak the reason. Not yet. Kaien would soon learn why training would be of little if any benefit for this mission. "It is just a feeling," she said, prevaricating at the last minute. Her brows knitted together upon hearing her words. She was weak, she rebuked herself. Her heart faltered where it should have held strong. Her words fell short where they should have been quick to elaborate. The guilt swirling in her chest and hammering at her stomach proved too much; it stifled her.
Withdrawing from her inner turmoil, Hisana lifted her head. A worried look painted her face and glistened in her eyes. Her lips parted, but the words slipped through her fingers.
Miyako astutely read Hisana's tangled look. "Oh," she said, taking a sip of tea. She did not appear entirely convinced, but she did not push the subject. "So," she began anew, her voice raising a few octaves, "who was the holdout?"
Hisana's brows flashed up, and she nearly choked on her tea. "Vice Captain Shiba did not inform you?"
Miyako shook her head, wide-eyed and amused. "He said it was of little consequence."
Hisana grinned. She briefly wondered why Kaien found the identity of little consequence. Perhaps the Vice Captain had felt like he had dodged a bullet? Or, perhaps, he found the potential for schadenfreude too real. "It was Lord Kuchiki."
Miyako's smile widened as she stifled a giggle that was begging to escape. "Lord Kuchiki?" She was beside herself. "Really?"
Hisana shot Miyako an impish grin.
"You really didn't want four companions, eh?"
The smile lengthening Hisana's lips settled more comfortably on her face, and the fear that once darkened her gaze dissipated. Brightly, she giggled at Miyako's sharp wryness. It was an honest appraisal on Miyako's part. There was no way that the House of Kuchiki would allow their heir apparent to embark on such an uncertain mission. Byakuya was too important to the fabric of his family. He was too green, having never fought in a war. He was too headstrong, too untamable, like a hard metal that could never be shaped by the heat. He would be too vulnerable.
Hisana was certain that Captain Kuckiki would protect Byakuya because it was required of Ginrei. As the patriarch of the Kuchiki family, he was charged with keeping the line unbroken and pure. Duty stayed his hand and steeled his mind. Of this, she was certain.
She was sure that Captain Kuchiki's heart would not waiver.
She prayed that Captain Kuchiki's heart would not waiver.
A strong voice broke through Hisana's thoughts, grabbing her attention and pulling it to the other side of the room. "Anyone here?" Kaien called into the room as he slid back the door.
Hisana imagined that the Vice Captain knew the answer to the question. "Good afternoon," both women chimed in reply.
He poked his head inside. "I thought I detected someone," he said. "Good afternoon." He gave a slight bow. "Are you ready to go to the meeting, Vice Captain?"
Hisana nodded.
"Good."
He held the door open for her.
Hisana bowed deeply in Miyako's direction before turning on her heels to leave.