Chapter 11: Sleeping Beauty
She fell to his feet and wept. Her wounded, battered heart manifested in loud sobs and spewed forth in tears. She trembled like a leaf; her small body heaved in a sea of vibrant, shiny silk.
Byakuya watched the light dance in the silk's sheen. The tightly woven fabric sparkled under the lantern's warm illumination. Deep yellows played across her orange obi and burnt sienna kimono. It was beautiful, he thought on closer inspection.
If only she would stop crying.
He had lost patience long ago. Fatigued, he stood rigidly, fighting back the urge to rebuke her. His empathy ran shallow, and, at that moment, its spigot was bone dry. Not that he had much empathy from which to draw. His reserves were notoriously low, and, with each passing moment, what little feeling resided within him began to morph into frustration.
Despite his silent protests, her cries only grew louder. She was practically begging him to soothe her. To do something. Anything.
Furtively, he searched the room. His cruel indifference kept his heart locked and dark. In lieu of words, he could only muster a frustrated breath. He could only hope the cries didn't summon his aunt. He could only think of how abject Lady Nanako looked, puddled at his feet in the midst of some unflappable sorrow.
Unable to watch any longer, his gaze drifted to the window. A rich thick night enveloped the world. A thousand stars twinkled like jewels caught flame. The moon was large and full, hanging low in the sky. The evening practically called out to him. He could feel desire enervate his muscles and ease the tension in his neck. The celebration was to commence in a handful of moments-moments that were spilling forth like the tears from Nanako's cheeks.
It all felt unbearable.
She was unbearable.
His indifference was unbearable.
"Lord Byakuya!" she howled, lifting her chin. Light gleamed against her sopping cheeks. Her skin was pale except for where it was red. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and her hair, once so nicely quaffed, was a matted mess. A fine mixture of sweat and tears cemented stray stands of her inky tresses to her forehead and cheeks—her poor tear-tracked cheeks.
She did not cry pretty, he noted inwardly and frowned at her. It was not a conscious decision on his part. But his disapprobation was so thick, so complete, that he could not shutter his expression. He tried. For fifteen minutes, he tried. Now, it was too much effort. It depleted him, and his nerves were quickly unspooling and fraying.
"You cannot go!" she hiccuped, tangling her long thin fingers in his hakama.
He felt the pull of the fabric against his legs, but he did not move. Images flooded his brain—images of what he should be doing like bending down, taking her in his arms, and comforting her. He knew the proper response, but his muscles locked, and he could feel the bile rise in his throat. He could not force his heart to submit.
"I love you!" she choked out. Sniffling and gasping on her intense sadness, she buried her wet face in the loose fabric of his hakama.
Shame, he noted mordantly. She felt shame as she covered her face. His frown diminished as he stared at her. He wondered if she felt shame because she realized that she was making a spectacle of herself or because she questioned his own affections toward her. Perhaps, she was ashamed of her lack of faith in him or of her own cowardice.
Byakuya unfurled his handkerchief. "Here," he said evenly, offering her the handkerchief.
"I am so sorry, Lord Byakuya. I know you are skilled and powerful. I should have more faith in you, but all I have is this fear." She reached out with trembling fingers, past the fabric, to his wrist. Her skin was ice cold, numb almost, against his. His eyes widened at her boldness, but he remained motionless, allowing the weight of her hand to sink against his.
Inelegant movements and the rustling of fabric marked her resolve. She stood. Her eyes were teary, and her smile was broken and ragged. "Please, forgive me," she said, bowing her head.
His gaze shot over to the door. Escape lingered on the periphery, tempting him with its proximity. If he could only get her through the door, down the hall, and into the city, then his nerves could quiet. The noise of merrymaking would drown out her words. The night's darkness would conceal her bloated face and sullen eyes. The students' demonstrations would capture her attention and would allow his to wander.
Relief was only a few steps away.
His heart stopped in anticipation, and his breath caught in his lungs. Without a word, he turned toward the door. Her hand did not break from his. Her grasp only tightened.
He did not care. His stride lengthened. He would drag her out of the study if necessary. "Come," he murmured hurriedly.
She complied. Wordless, she followed him. Questions lingered in her stare but did not sound from her lips.
Briefly, he wondered if she knew that he did not reciprocate her love. How could he? He had only known her for a few days. Despite his aunt's failed attempts at forcing him to remember her from various events, he could not. His aunt brought out pictures, news clippings, letters from various other relatives, but recollection eluded him. Lady Nanako was a stranger to him. Forced teas, lunches, and meetings demystified her, but Byakuya was not keen on deluding himself. A committee of Kuchiki elders—Those Who Knew Better—selected her to be his mate. He had no say, and his lack of voice on the when, where, and who was beginning to eat at him. Resentment washed away his apathy. It had started gradually, but, sure enough, his heart turned icy and sharp toward his family and the courtship.
He wondered if the realization that he did not love her had dawned on her. If it chilled her heart like resentment chilled his. He wondered if it stifled the words, stole the thoughts, and silenced the tears. He wondered if she could continue to love him despite knowing that he did not return her affections.
He glimpsed her in his periphery. Shadows veiled her face, but he could see her eyes gleaming in the light. She stared at the floorboards, and she swallowed hard. She was choking back fresh tears. Her sadness, however, had morphed from pleading to contemplative.
He crossed into the darkness without sparing her a second glance. It was not until they arrived at the celebration that he acknowledged her again when he felt her arm thread through his, unifying them as a couple. She was warm, and she looked up into his face with such hesitance. Her action was a question, and she was praying that his look would be her answer.
He held his breath and clenched his jaw, and he refused to meet her gaze. Instead, he stared, dead-eyed, into the throng of people milling about, buying trinkets and chattering.
As he had hoped, the noise blotted out his thoughts and kept her words at bay. The strange customs and gewgaws for sale distracted her attention, leaving his to wander. A blur of faces and movements saturated his perception. Until, his eyes strayed to the one person that he had hoped desperately to avoid. Reflexively, he stopped. His nerves buzzed excitedly, and he went numb.
Lady Nanako took a small step before feeling his resistance. She halted on the rebound. "Lord Byakuya, do you see something to your liking?" A look of adoration smoothed the lines of her face, and her eyes searched the crowd. He could tell that she was trying to follow his gaze. His eyes flitted to the makeshift outdoor theater, and he tried to pull her forward.
He had been too slow.
"Your cousin," she said sweetly, misreading his look. "We should present ourselves to her and the new baby!" She tugged at his arm.
Before he could construct a reasonable diversion, he found himself uttering pleasantries and trying to occupy his mind. His chin pulled down, and his eyes searched the bricks lining the street.
"Lord Kuchiki," his cousin said excitedly, "it is so nice to see you out with Lady Nanako." Her words were sharp—a tacit acknowledgment of his reticence to fully embrace the relationship—but she smiled at the newly minted couple with glee. "Have you met the Vice Captain of the Fourth?"
Byakuya's posture straightened. The question managed to eviscerate what was left of his poor fraying nerves. Somewhere between the words "Vice Captain" and "Fourth" his blood had transmuted to ice water, and he was sure his heart had rattled free from his chest and lodged in his throat.
"No," Nanako's voice needled him.
"Vice Captain, Lady Nanako Anzai and, well, you already know Lord Kuchiki." Her voice dropped at his name. He wondered if she was upset with him for reasons unknown or if the rumors had reached her halls, and she was making her disapproval apparent.
Unwittingly, his eyes drifted to Hisana as if she was a magnet pulling his attention. A deep breath escaped his lungs, and his cheeks went pink. Prickles of heat nipped at his back and arms.
Her hair was as black as a raven's feathers and flowed unadorned down her shoulders. Her lips were as red as blood, and her skin was smooth and white. Not a line marked her face. No tear-trails. No swollen eyes. No pleading, pitiful glances. She just smiled. Her eyes were warm, but her lips were sharp. He had seen that smile before, when she intervened on his behalf with Gin Ichimaru. She had been so bubbly, so convincing then. It was all a feign, and Hisana loved her feigns, he mused as he stared into her blue eyes. She was good at manufacturing emotion from thin air. Better than he was.
"The Vice Captain delivered little Tomoka," his cousin gushed as she reached over to stroke the baby's head.
Byakuya followed his cousin's arm. Shocked, he stirred upon realizing that Hisana was holding the infant tenderly. How had he missed it? He admonished himself for such inattention.
Hisana's smile softened as she glanced down at the slumbering bundle. "Little Tomoka has been keeping mommy awake into the late hours," she cooed sweetly, adjusting the infant's weight in her arms. Her gaze returned to Byakuya. "Good evening, Lord Kuchiki," she said in a sing-song cadence, an octave higher than her normal speaking voice.
His expression melted as he watched her cradle the child.
"Does Lord Kuchiki have a fondness for children?" Hisana's observation was a wry one even if she had cleverly coated it in a sanguine tenor. A lopsided grin pulled a corner of her mouth, and a knowing look lit her eyes. Wordlessly, she swayed her body closer so he could examine the child nestled against her chest.
"If he has a fondness for children, he sure has a funny way of showing it," his cousin noted drily. "He was the only member of the entire family who did not send his regards." She winked at Lady Nanako to lessen the sting, but the words were tightly coiled, like barbed wire.
Lady Nanako beamed up at Byakuya. "I hope the Vice Captain will be kind enough to assist us with our children."
Byakuya nearly spluttered. The color drained from his cheeks, and his eyes widened. Helpless, he stared into Hisana's very amused face. Words proved to be elusive, escaping his mind before pouring into the ether.
Hisana pressed her lips together in what he was sure was a poor attempt at repressing the urge to smile at his expense. "Isane Kotetsu will be an excellent resource when the two of you are ready to start your family." Her voice was perfectly calm and gentle despite the bitterness of her implicit admission: She would not be the Vice Captain when Nanako bore children. She would be a memory. Perhaps, a footnote in the history books.
Byakuya stole her gaze and held it. Gone were the feelings of awe, adoration, horror and humiliation. All he wanted to do was be by her side. He wanted to comfort the tragic gleam catching in her eyes. But, he couldn't. There was something in the way. There was something holding him back, obstructing his desire. Unthinking, his eyes dropped to Lady Nanako, who eagerly received the baby from Hisana.
He understood Lady Nanako's intention well. A little too well. She wanted to hold the thing she thought eased his mind and soothed him. He felt a pitying pain crackle in chest as Lady Nanako shifted the baby's weight carefully in her arms. Unlike Hisana, Nanako did not appear confident holding the infant. She fussed over the alien way it felt to cradle something so tiny. Noticing her pained expression, Hisana and Byakuya's cousin lightly molded Nanako's arms and gave gentle words of encouragement.
"When it's yours, everything just makes sense," his cousin murmured, patting down the swaddling blankets. "Don't worry," she continued, offering Nanako an easy smile. "You can come anytime to play with little Tomoka if you need practice."
"Really?" Nanako's eyes went wide at the offer, and a look of excitement replaced her worriment.
"You and Byakuya are invited anytime."
Byakuya's gaze wandered to Hisana as she caressed the infant's head. She was checking the child's temperature. He knew because that was how she checked his temperature when he was ill. It was a slight fluttering movement, but he knew it well enough.
"The fever has lessened," Hisana noted softly, making eye contact with his cousin. "I will send over a remedy, but when you are ready to take your bath tonight, bring baby into the steamy room for a few minutes. Hopefully, that will break up some of her congestion."
His cousin nodded eagerly. "Thank you, Vice Captain."
"It is my pleasure," she said, smiling sweetly down at the child.
"Is the baby alright?" Nanako asked. Concern etched into her features as she turned to the cousin.
"It is just a cold," Hisana assured them, giving Byakuya a sidelong gaze. Her eyes were somber, but she covered her sadness with a small bittersweet smile. He knew the smile was for his sake, not given out of any genuine feeling she had. It was just another façade. Just another feign.
He shot her consoling stare, but his lips went still.
She closed her eyes and turned to the women. "I believe the students' demonstrations are beginning." She eyed the commotion outside of the theater. "I must excuse myself. It is my last duty." She bowed, deep and respectful. "Good evening Lord Kuchiki, Lady Kuchiki, and Lady Anzai. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. I am sure you will have many wonderful years and many lovely children." On that gentle note, she turned on her heel.
He watched her silently. His heart drummed a somber melody at her words and her graceful departure. He did not hide his yearning well, nor did he attempt to. Instead, his gaze remained locked on her until the crowd swallowed her whole. He closed his eyes as he searched for what shred of inner peace her presence had evoked.
Nanako stared up at him imploringly. Her expression fell, and her brows knitted together. Confusion darkened her eyes as she stared at Byakuya, uncomprehending.
She knew, but she couldn't accept it. Not then. It was too fresh. The pain was too real. "We should go, too," she said, distractedly. "Perhaps we could join the Vice Captain?" She gave Byakuya a knowing sidelong stare and a small smile.
"I don't think that is wise," his cousin piped up defensively. "Vice Captains must sit with their division captains."
Byakuya nodded. "We must sit with the Sixth," he said softly.
The color drained from his cousin's face at his words, and her eyes widened at the implication.
"The demonstrations are performed by promising six-years, correct?" Lady Nanako asked, gently handing the baby back to his cousin.
"Yes," his cousin answered, "and Vice Captains are supposed to field questions from the students and provide input on the quality of the current crop of hopefuls."
Nanako nodded her head. "I remember my brother's demonstration. He was so nervous."
"Come," Byakuya said softly, moving toward the theater. His stride was long and uninviting, but she was quick to match it. She was quicker to ask questions. So many questions as the demonstrations began.
He tried. Under the discerning glare of his grandfather, he tried to muster some vague sense of companionship. But, his words rang hollow, and his gaze was cold and unfeeling.
He wondered if a cold unfeeling heart was the price for wealth and infamy. Fleetingly, he descried his grandfather. Ginrei sat regally in his captain's regalia. His piercing gaze lingered on the field. He did not like the student's conformation, Byakuya noted to himself.
"Did you attend the Spiritual Arts Academy?" Nanako's voice pierced his concentration.
"No," he answered unflinchingly. He kept his eyes trained on the field as the next student entered. She was slightly better than the previous sixth year. Her stance was open and confident where his had been narrow and uncertain.
"Is it common to enter the ranks without attending?" Her voice rose above the sounds of murmurs sparked by the student's shikai.
She knew the answer, but he obliged her. "No," he replied.
She nodded to herself. "Do you wish you had?" she asked moments later.
"No." It was a lie. Sort of. He had been teased mercilessly for his parents' decision. Mostly, the complaints sounded from Yoruichi Shihōin and Kaien Shiba, who were ones to talk. They had scarcely attended the Academy themselves. Both had jumped years, making the endeavor unlike that experienced by most students. But, he understood their argument. The manor and shroud of nobility had been isolating.
Outside the manor's gates was just as lonely, however.
Unconsciously, his gaze drifted to the Fourth's section. They were more lively than the Sixth, he observed. They sat close together and spoke with greater intimacy.
"How do you know the Vice Captain of the Fourth?" Nanako asked, astutely reading his eye-line.
He swiftly returned his attention to the demonstration. "She was a tutor," he said matter-of-factly.
"How interesting!" She smiled up at him. "Kido?"
He glimpsed Nanako out of the corner of his eye. "Healing kido." That, too, was a lie. While his father had charged Hisana with instructing him in healing kido, she had taught Byakuya offensive kido better than his tutor for offensive kido. He never took to healing, and she never fought him on his preference. She had tried to interweave healing lessons into the extemporaneous curriculum, and he learned various techniques, if only superficially.
Nanako bristled. "That sounds very intimate," she murmured to herself.
It would have been, he assumed. Healing kido and healing, more generally, required close and sustained contact. Closer contact than just about anything else.
"How long have you known her?" Lines creased Nanako's forehead, and her lips trembled as she asked the question. Her gaze averted to the ground, and her eyes were half-lidded. She did not want to know the answer to her question as much as she needed to know.
He clenched his jaw. "A few decades," he murmured.
Approximately, thirty years had passed since he first noticed Hisana donning the red academy uniform, knee-deep in medicinal flowers and trying, breathlessly, to free a small rabbit from a snare. It was a private memory of his—one that she did not share or did not recall. A year later, she had treated his injuries at the infirmary. A decade passed before their paths crossed again when his father procured her services to treat his illness. Shortly after, she was given the task of teaching Byakuya healing kido.
"How long did she instruct you?"
Nanako was torturing herself on barbed thoughts of him and the Vice Captain, and he took pity on her. "A few years," he answered, careful not to blade his words.
"You love her," Nanako whispered, chewing on her bottom lip. A piece of her withered and died under the crushing weight of the realization. She had tried to push it down, kill it, but the evidence was mounting bit by bit. She had heard the rumors. The servants spoke about the Fourth's Vice Captain in hushed excited voices when they thought they were alone. Then, there was the way Byakuya threw himself into the mission. She knew his grandfather had refused; she had lied to Byakuya over tea, saying she didn't know when she did. It had stung her when he left her alone in the manor to confront Ginrei. It had broken her heart that her pleas for him to stay fell on deaf ears. It stifled her spirit to see how fondly he regarded the Vice Captain. Hisana captivated his thoughts, bewitching him in a way that she knew she never could.
Byakuya lifted his head and turned his attention to the demonstration. Her words pierced him as well, wounding him in the process. He felt like an animal tangled in a foothold trap, and the more he tried to shake the thought, the more he suffered its consequences. He was unsure of whether it was love, admiration, or adulation he felt for Hisana.
"I don't mind," Nanako said, breathless. "I don't mind being second place to the Vice Captain. She is strong, and gentle, and beautiful. How could I compare? I don't mind. Really, as long as I am with you. I won't stand in the way. I promise." She held back her tears as she continued, "I know the laws prevent such a union—between the two of you. And that must be painful. But, if I can lessen it, I will. All I want is to be your wife and to bear your children."
Byakuya's moment of empathy quickly dissipated as the words filled his ears. He didn't know what to do, or how to react. He had not denied or affirmed her suspicions. To say anything now would have been damning. And, he hadn't quite sorted out his feelings on the matter. He cared about Hisana. He would protect her. He would stand with her until his dying breath. He missed her when she was gone. He found strength in her gaze, and peace in her presence. Was that love? And if it was love, how could he ever accept Nanako's offer?
Panic set in as he contemplated the deluge of questions. And, tellingly, he looked to Hisana—not Nanako or his grandfather—for the answers. Hisana, however, was blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. She was talking to fresh-faced students and laughing politely into her sleeve.
If she was talking to students…
Immediately, Byakuya stood, realizing the demonstrations were over. He grabbed Lady Nanako's arm, pretending that he had only imagined her confessions. If he never acknowledged her, then it never happened. (Or so he convinced himself.) "We should go." He barely had taken a step before his muscles locked.
"Byakuya." The voice was strong, deep, and familiar.
He exhaled the breath keeping his back rigid, and, as he did, his shoulders slacked. "Captain Kuchiki," he said formally, turning to face his grandfather. He bowed politely as did Lady Nanako.
"Captain Kuchiki," she called harmoniously.
"Lady Anzai." Ginrei acknowledged her with a slight bow of his head. "I hope you enjoyed the students tonight." He sounded almost satisfied, if satisfaction could have a particular sound.
She smiled. "I did, thank you. Lord Byakuya was teaching me all about the Academy and protocols."
Ginrei's gaze trailed to his grandson, who he regarded with less satisfaction. "Good," he said ominously.
Byakuya felt transparent under his grandfather's judicious look. His guilt was likely abundant and clear, and Ginrei did not have to think too long or hard to discern its source.
Refusing to break his gaze, Ginrei lifted his head, "You are invited to dinner," he ordered rather than suggested. There was no choice as he was standing there, and dinner had been set for after the demonstrations. It was exactly the situation that Byakuya had tried to avoid just moments prior.
"Thank you, Captain Kuchiki." Nanako bowed graciously.
Byakuya bowed as well, but he did not speak words of gratitude. He had learned long ago never to speak falsely to his elders, and taking a meal under the penetrating gaze of his grandfather was not an endeavor for which he felt particularly grateful.
"Come," Ginrei said, leading the way.
Dinner went as expected. No major disasters or mishaps. Just biting numbness. Byakuya stared miserably into his food, and drank miserably from his sake cup. Perhaps, it had been better when Nanako had been benighted. At least, for him it had been easier. He had not been drowning in questions then, just indifference.
Nanako, however, was chirpy. She made small talk with the men around her. She was quick to laugh at their jokes, and she was surprisingly witty. There were certainly worse candidates for marriage.
As the dinner was winding down, he surveyed the room. Empty space abounded where there had previously been none. Kaien and Gin were talking quietly a stone's throw away. His grandfather had engaged Nanako in polite "getting-to-know-you" conversation. Ukitake, Kyōraku and Isshin were conspiring at the Thirteenth's table. Unohana was discussing some detail with Isane, Hisana's likely successor. Hisana, Miyako, and Rangiku were having a breezy conversation at the Tenth's table.
"Poor miserable Byakuya," Kaien teased, pulling back Byakuya's chair, catching him unaware. "Lady Anzai, it is a pleasure to meet you," Kaien said kindly, bowing. "I never thought I would see the day when Little Byakuya found a wife."
Nanako blushed and reciprocated Kaien's bow. "The pleasure is all mine, Vice Captain Shiba."
"Congratulations, Captain Kuchiki," Kaien said, glancing over Nanako's head to the Kuchiki elder. Again, Kaien bowed, lower and more respectful this time. "I apologize for stealing Byakuya, but—"
Ginrei interrupted with a brisk nod of his head. "Of course." There was no need to distress Nanako. Ginrei was aware of how badly she had taken the news of Byakuya's assignment. The whole House knew about her breakdown.
Grabbing Byakuya up by his collar, Kaien pulled him along, much to his objection. "We are strategizing," he informed the young noble with a brisk voice and a sly glance.
. . . .
Hisana shed her duties for the evening and quietly slipped away into the night. She let her feet carry her, and, as often was the case when she let her feet do the thinking, she found herself at the wandering river with her gaze fixed on the dark breakers. Moonbeams scattered across the waves, bobbing up and down, like a thousand shimmering diamonds. She crouched low at the stream's edge and dipped her hand into the inky water. Disturbed by her intrusion, a koi's tail quickly brushed her fingers as it zoomed away.
She smiled, feeling the gentle beating of the waves against her skin. The water was cold, but she did not mind. It roused her tired mind and gave her some respite. She only had a few hours before she had to report to the Second; she needed her wits to be sharp.
'Three-o'-clock,' she mused wearily. 'Nothing is ever easy.'
She stared into the sky. It was alive, a twinkling mess of stars and quickly moving clouds. She swore she could stare into the night for eternity, but her body protested against such a plan. Stiff from crouching, she stood up and stretched.
'I am getting old,' her inner pessimist groaned inwardly. Shaking away the thought, Hisana bent at the hip and brushed the dirt from her hakama.
'Not older. Better.' Again, her eyes snapped up to the firmament. A chill rushed over her and spawned a strange idea.
"Might as well," she whispered to herself. "It's not like I will ever be able to do it again." With a deep breath and even deeper concentration, she closed her eyes. Layer by layer, the world fell away until all that remained was her inner resolve.
Graceful movements called forth a growing ball of energy. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Hisana recited a long incantation in her head as she felt the energy begin to grow. It sparked against her hands; it was cold, and it pierced her flesh. Humming the rhythm of the chant, she called upon an advanced ice spell. Feeling it build in step with her own spiritual pressure, she let out a deep breath and opened her eyes.
She let it go, directing the energy into the water. Ice quickly spread across the river until all that the eye could see was completely frozen.
Her lips split into a wide smile.
It was beautiful.
The ice glistened in the moonlight, illuminating the night a pale blue. Careful, she placed a tentative foot upon the ice. It held her weight with ease, but she took light steps just in case.
When she reached the middle of the stream, she stopped. Endorphins coursed through her, spitting electricity up and down her nervous system. She inhaled a deep breath and whirled around, sliding against the wet ice. It was a stupid wish—to see the sky from the middle of the stream. But, it was so lovely, so irresistible, so impractical; she just had to do it. Basking in the glow of starlight, she stared up, wide-eyed and blissful, at the moon.
Her smile widened when she felt the wind howl against her ears. She turned, knowing he would be standing at the bank. And there he was dressed simply. No noble adornments fettered his hair or swathed his neck, and, yet, he looked princely wearing only simple blue silks and moonbeams. "Lord Byakuya," she called in a dulcet tone.
He lifted his head. "I do not know this spell."
She stared into the firmament a beat longer before succumbing to the urge to join him on the bank. "I suppose you wouldn't. I don't think it is commonly used."
"Outside of freezing water," he observed wryly.
She grinned up at him. His features went still. Not impassive, just quiet. He was studying her.
"An ice Zanpakutō?" he asked, glancing down at the sword tucked in her hakama-himo. What her Zanpakutō did had become a long-running guessing game for him. She never used it during her lessons, and she never released it in front of him. But he was convinced it was kido-based. So far he had guessed fire, wind, water, and now ice.
She merely smiled as she pushed off the ice with her left foot. 'Wrong,' she thought, amused.
"How is your training?" she asked with an impish grin. She knew he had achieved bankai. Now, whether she was supposed to be privy to such information was another matter. Sir Sōjun had mentioned it shortly before his death. He was so proud, mentioning it in a rare moment of unfettered exuberance. She never approached Byakuya about it directly out of respect for his father.
"Well," he said stone-faced. His eyes, however, told her another story. He was pleased with himself, which meant he was in the process of mastering it.
"What are you working on?" she asked, steadying her footing as she neared the bank. She wondered if he would admit it. 'Likely not,' she thought to herself. If he did, he ran the risk of being pulled from the Sixth and placed elsewhere. Byakuya would not serve another squad, not while Ginrei was Captain.
"Learning Senbonzakura," he said much to her amazement. It was a half-truth, one that she would not push. She waited a few moments as she slid toward the edge of the stream. The silence, however, seemed to unnerve Byakuya, and he was quick to fill the void. "I have mastered my shikai," he said confidently.
She smiled up at him knowingly. "You should show it to me!"
He arched a brow. "Show me yours, and I might."
She smirked at his request. "Mine isn't very interesting," she admitted coyly.
"It is to me," he said.
She immediately tensed at the soft sheepish sound of his voice. A slow burn crept across her cheeks, leaving her skin red, and her heart started. "I-I-I," she stammered, unsure of how to reply. Her throat went dry, and her breath hitched in her chest. Disoriented, she pushed off the ice again, but her muscles had turned to jelly under his stare, and her foot slipped. She was certain that she was going to topple over, for her weight-bearing leg also began to falter. Her icy horror, however, calmed when she felt his hand against her arm. He was quick to steady her, and even quicker to examine her, taking in every line and contour of her delicate frame.
"I am so sorry," she said, shocked by her blundering. Her heart fluttered like a moth's wings in her chest, and her face went bright red. Trying to thread together the remaining shreds of her composure, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before daring to meet his gaze.
He stared at her with an intense but entirely inscrutable look. She wasn't sure if he thought she had lost her mind, was injured, or about to break. Pensive, she noticed that he was still gripping the tops of her arms. The twilight painted his flesh a silvery shade of white, highlighting the shape of hands. They were large and strong. Their strength, however, did not relent when she regained her equilibrium.
Perhaps her ice spell had worked a little too well. Byakuya appeared frozen in thought. He wasn't seeing her, she observed. Rather, he appeared to be swept away in the inner workings of his own thoughts. Whatever had captured his attention, held it in a vice grip.
Hisana lifted her head, and, ever so gently, she brushed her lips against his. Her warmth sank in through his mouth and quickly traveled to his heart. She watched as the spell broke. The light in his eyes returned, and he blinked. "Apologies," she began again, feeling incredibly guilty for her indulgence. He was engaged, and she had convinced herself that it was a happy union. At least, Lady Anzai seemed to be happy with thoughts of future heirs running through her head.
Hisana searched his face, praying that he had not taken offence at her boldness. He looked so pure and pristine in the soft blues of starlight. "I am," the words scorched her tongue, ready to spew forth, but before she could finish her apology, Byakuya silenced her, pressing his lips to hers. It began with great hesitation, but deepened as he pulled her close and tight against him.
She shut her eyes, letting the inky darkness of her mind take over. The noise of the wind howling and the leaves rustling faded. The chill of the air and the ice no longer bit at her cheeks and hands. All she felt was his spiritual pressure beating against hers. It was strong, stronger than she remembered. He was stronger than she remembered as he bent her head back. She relented, taking in the sweetness of sake and rice lingering in his mouth. He was inebriated. She could taste it too keenly. She could feel it in the way he held her and the way he held himself.
She felt a little intoxicated, too, but she had not a drop to drink. Boldly, she reached up and rested her hands lightly against his shoulders. She was too afraid to add any pressure, too afraid he might shatter like glass. The bond between them was slowly transforming, and, in its transformation, it was fragile.
He felt the sudden change, too. His kisses became gentler, more superficial. His grip on her loosened, and, as he pulled away, she thought she saw apprehension in his eyes. She knew apprehension flashed in her look. Self-preservation had never been one of her finer points, or his, for that matter.
Her hands slid down his arms, and he caught them before she had the chance to pull away.
"When we return," he said confidently, "you will be my wife."
He had her attention with the whole "we" and "return." She thought it was sweet, and she smiled widely at the condescending way he delivered the line. But, he knocked the breath from her lungs with the last part. She shook under the weight of his meaning. Her vision flashed, and sweet logic abandoned her, rendering her senseless.
She blinked frantically, hoping it would restart her vision. Had he forgotten about Nanako? Had he forgotten about his duties to his family? Had he forgotten that she was a peasant and that she had been marked for death?
He was inebriated. Perhaps, he was more inebriated than she had first estimated. It was just the wine and the inevitability of her demise that had short-circuited his better judgment. She knew because the combination had short-circuited her brain on several occasions.
"Lord Byakuya," she started, not sure how to finish. Her heart became still, barely beating at all. She didn't know what to say or do. Her lips tried to form words, words that never came. Instead, she offered him a conciliatory look, hoping it would suffice. It didn't. It didn't break his commanding stare. It didn't elicit a revocation. "It is forbidden," her voice was thin and soft as she forced the words from her heart to her tongue.
He did not respond, and she was still gasping for words, fighting through the emotions that came in brutal waves, crashing over her and threatening to drown her. Regret, guilt, and penitence pounded her heart, raged in her veins, and bleached her bones. If the jagged edges of emotion could cause internal hemorrhaging, then she bled.
"There are only two laws that bind nobles—treason and sedition. The rest are obeyed as a courtesy." His voice, deep and firm, washed over her, soothing her tired soul.
"What about your fiancée?" The question stung her throat, but she could not stop it from tumbling out of her mouth. She truly pitied Lady Nanako. The woman had done nothing to deserve their treachery.
He closed his eyes. Pale twilight painted his face as he lifted his head. She knew he was fighting to keep his equanimity. He pitied Lady Nanako, too, but he refused to show it. "She will find a suitable match." The words unspoken—words Hisana knew lingered in the dark spaces of implication—were: "I will see to it."
She took a small step forward and touched his face. Caressingly, she brushed a stray stand of hair from his eyes. He stole her heart with a look and broke it with equal measure. She was never going to survive, and, right then, that fact proved comforting. He would never have to live up to the reckless promise uttered in the twilight.
"I would marry you now if it meant you would abstain from this mission," he said somberly. His dark grey eyes searched hers, and he bent his head closer. "But you are too foolish."
She smiled at his insult. He was correct. She would not abandon the mission, and, perhaps, that was a foolish decision. "I am sorry," she said, running her hands through his hair. Closing her eyes, she relished the sensation of silky tresses against her skin. "I am so sorry," her voice broke, and her fingers tangled in his locks.
Dropping her head, she fought back the urge to cry. Her vision began to blur as tears welled in her eyes. She turned her head, defiantly. She had shed enough tears already, and she did not want to burden him any more than she had. "Please forgive my weakness," she murmured.
Tenderly, he eased her chin up, and he dried her tears with his thumbs. She felt his warm breath skate across her lips, a gentle reminder that he remained resolutely by her side. It was such a novel feeling, knowing that he was there and steadfast. She had spent so many years looking out for herself, coming to understand brutality, cruelty, and hardness with greater ease than kindness.
Part of her remained skeptical of his intentions, however, and that part of her forced her eyes open. That piece of her, she could never shed—a second skin that stubbornly clung to her. But, upon opening her eyes, her worst fears scattered. Far from malevolence, Byakuya studied her with a look of concern.
"Come." Taking her hand, he led her from the stream.
Unquestioningly, she followed him with heavy heart and even heavier footsteps to the Fourth's barracks. He remembered the way, much to her surprise.
Each step forward eased her troubled mind. Each step lightened her heart. Each step brought them closer.
When they reached the door to her quarters, her resolve shattered into a thousand fragments. She nearly collapsed at the sight of the field of flowers that had seemingly sprouted from the hardwood in front of her door. Well-wishers had sent the gifts—flowers, wrapped parcels, and small trinkets. She was sure the intentions were pure, but it looked like a memorial for the dead. And she was not dead yet.
Byakuya's instincts kicked on just in time. Adroitly, he caught her and spun her away from the sight. "I will take care of this," he assured her.
Her mind blotted out his words and looks. Her heart seized in her chest, and her body ran cold. Her neurons fired under her skin, sparking like live wires. She couldn't hold it together right then. She could barely concentrate. A tempest raged deep inside her, hounding her until she could not fight it back. Her battered muscles relented. Her breath hitched in her chest. Soon it was her vision, and then, finally, her mind submitted.
Darkness blanketed her senses, extinguishing the pain.
. . . .
She awoke in the Second. Bright sterile light seared through her mental fog. Adrenalin rushed through her, and she sprung up. It took her a few minutes to realize that she was not at the Fourth.
She glanced down to find small tubes tethering her to machines lining the sides of her bed. Needles, precisely inserted into her veins, drew fluids from and into her body.
"You're up," a small female with a clipboard noted. Her hands were fast at work, scribbling down notes.
Hisana blinked. She tried to introduce herself, but her throat closed. Panicked, her hands flew to her neck. Unable to pull air, she waved her arms frantically.
"Normal signs. The tests are checking your vitals," the woman said nonchalantly as if asphyxiation was part of the process.
A few seconds later, the pressure remitted, and Hisana could breathe again. "What?" she gasped, folded over her knees and struggling to fill her lungs. She had never utilized such a test at the Fourth.
"We must check your spiritual power and pressure levels. It helps us get a better estimate."
"Estimate of what?"
"Your expiration," the woman said as she focused her attention on her notes. She lifted her head, and, with her middle finger, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "The relic depletes you at predictable intervals, provided that you refrain from engaging in any of the Spiritual Arts and you companions do the same. Knowing your baseline will help us predict how long you have to reach the 67th North Rukon District."
Hisana nodded.
"Please disrobe," the woman commanded, flinging back the privacy curtain.
Hisana's lips parted. A question was written on her face, but she suppressed it as she began to loosen her garments. Cold air skated across her neck and clavicle. She shivered, but shed her kimono all the same. It began as a tremble as the cold picked apart the locks of her muscles.
She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her legs for warmth. It was too late. Trembling quickly turned into shaking. Violently, she shook. She could barely see by the end. "What are you injecting into that IV?" she cried, staring helplessly at the woman.
It was inescapable. Fighting the cocktail flowing through her was futile. The black curtain fell over her senses, and she fell back on the hard cot. The sound of one of her machines screaming in mechanical fury echoed in her head before she fully succumbed to the effects of the drug.
When she awoke, she was dressed. A simple white kimono tightly trapped the warmth to her body. She glanced up tiredly to see a young nurse standing over her. An eager look etched into her face. "You are strong," she told Hisana as she injected a strange blue substance into the IV push. "Relax."
Hisana's eyes began to roll back in her head, but she fought back the urge to sleep. Bleary-eyed, she turned her head to find the bed being hoisted from its frame. Her body went numb, and she was certain her lungs had stopped functioning.
"Shh," a male attendant murmured, stroking the top of her head. "Sleep."
Her eyelids began to droop, but she forced her eyes open for one last look. They were placing her in a glass case.
"This will be like taking a refreshing spiritual bath," he assured her as he closed the case.
She jerked in raw panic. 'Case? It looks more like a casket!' Her heart raced as she stared up through the glass. To no avail, she tried to fight against her chemical restraints. The exertion, however, proved to be her undoing, and she fell into a dreamless slumber.
. . . .
Byakuya and Kaien arrived early, and they waited silently in a small antechamber.
"Ichimaru is always late," Kaien informed Byakuya tersely.
Byakuya could tell Kaien was nervous as he watched Kaien fiddle with the badge strapped to his arm. The Vice Captain's sudden jitteriness disturbed Byakuya, pulling on the threads of doubt that loomed over his thoughts. Perhaps, the Vice Captain knew something that he did not? It was possible. Kaien seemed to have sources everywhere.
Byakuya's gaze drew to the door, and he listened intently. Two Shinigami were discussing the mission, but their voices were low and muffled. Neither sounded particularly satisfied with what was happening in The Chamber. Byakuya's gaze shot over to Kaien, who was examining a missive.
"What is the chamber?" Byakuya asked, politely enough.
Kaien's brows rose, and he glanced up. "The reiatsu chamber?" When recognition failed to light Byakuya's eyes, Kaien expounded, "There have been a few problems since this morning," he said evenly.
"I was not informed of this," Byakuya said tensely.
Kaien frowned. "No?" the question sounded disingenuous because Kaien did not appear in the least surprised.
"No," Byakuya responded firmly. He was in no mood for condescension.
Kaien leaned back in his chair, and his lips twisted into a look of discontentment. "The transmission went out when the assignment was announced."
"What did the transmission say?" Byakuya knew what the transmission said. He had obtained a copy from the Fourth before convincing his grandfather to put him on the team.
A wry look creased Kaien's features. "When Hisana was selected, the Second issued a transmission before the one we received. Before the one you, no doubt, read. The transmission was meant for the Fourth's eyes only."
Byakuya's expression darkened. "How did you gain access to it?" he asked, incredulous.
"I asked," Kaien waved the question away, "It doesn't matter. All you need to know is that they have been running tests on Hisana for the last nine hours to determine her strength. They called members from the Twelfth to set up and run the tests, and members of the Fourth to make sure the Twelfth behaved humanely. And she isn't feeling particularly well at the moment if she is in the chamber."
Byakuya's expression morphed into shock. She never mentioned anything of the sort. Not a word. And he wondered why she had not confided in him.
Kaien shook his head. "Where is Ichimaru?" he groaned, turning to the door. A few silent moments passed until, as if by Kaien's will alone, the door pulled back to reveal Gin's smiling face.
"Good afternoon, Vice Captains Shiba and Kuchiki." Gin gave a shallow bow to no one in particular as he entered.
Kaien snapped around to Byakuya. His brows lowered, and he search Byakuya's arm with wide-set eyes. "Your seat was posted today?" Sure enough, the young noble donned the Sixth Division's badge on his arm. How had he missed it? Kaien wondered to himself.
Byakuya stared back, his features as inscrutable as ever.
"Vice Captain," Gin answered in his thickest of Rukon drawls, "runs in the family, I s'pose." He swished his robes out as he took a seat near Byakuya.
"Congratulations," Kaien murmured in a civil tenor before folding his arms against his chest.
"So, Miss Hisana is still in the chamber?" Gin asked. His smile widened as he threw his weight back in his chair. He knew the answer, and he knew his observation would gnaw at Byakuya.
Which it did, Kaien observed darkly. What little light shined in those slate grey eyes quickly died. How Gin knew that Hisana was in the chamber, though? Kaien chalked it up to Gin's close friendship with Rangiku, who, after a few drinks, had a tendency to become rather chatty.
"The Vice Captains are all waiting," a loud voice informed a nameless Shinigami outside the room.
"Welcome," a man said pleasantly as he drew the door back. "We are ready for the next stage of your preparations."
Kaien and Byakuya were quick to stand. Gin, however, took his sweet time and was the last to exit the small holding room. Only the sound of footfalls filled the corridor as the men followed the Second's grunt, who led them to a large cherry wood double door. The young man cleared his throat before cracking his knuckle against the wood.
"Enter."
The grunt pulled the doors open and jerked his chin in the direction of the voice. The three comrades entered and quickly fanned out, backs turned toward the doors. The light was dim. Their silhouettes lengthened across the floor and crept up the walls. The shadows amplified every movement they made. Gin, in particular, was intrigued by the way his inky likeness kept time with the gentle beating of his robes.
"Sit," Suì-Fēng commanded. She gestured to the long mahogany table running across the room.
Without hesitation, the men complied.
"No Zanpakutō. No kido. No hohō. No hakuda. You must repress your spiritual pressure. If, for any reason, you find these orders confusing, wear one of these." She snapped her fingers, and a subordinate emerged from the shadows. She tossed several thick metal bracers across the table. They were restraints, capable of stripping the wearer's abilities while worn. The Second used them on those who committed high crimes.
"It is imperative that the Fourth's Vice Captain expend no more energy than is absolutely necessary for the completion of the mission. The success of this mission depends on conserving her energy. Remember, if the relic depletes her before she reaches the King's Fire, you have failed. Upon her demise, you have only five minutes to fit the relic into the King's Fire's vessel. At 5 minutes 1 second, the relic begins to lose its charge. You need a complete charge to render the King's Fire inactive. Every release of your Zanpakutō, every use of kido, or flash-step means her reserves are drained at a greater rate.
"You only have a fortnight to complete the mission. Reconnaissance suggests that it should take nine days to reach the rebels, located in the 67th North Rukon District. We are sending four teams ahead of you to clear the area. When you have completed the task, send an aerial signal. A squadron will be waiting to clear the rebel forces." She paused to scan her audience. A small wily grin twisted her lips up. "Any questions?"
"What if we realize the mission is failing? Is there a mechanism to release her from the relic?" Kaien asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"No verified mechanism exists to release the relic from its host once it is engaged," Suì-Fēng answered curtly.
Kaien exchanged a pained look with Byakuya.
"How do we know when the relic is fully charged?" It was Gin, this time, who chimed in.
Suì-Fēng raised her head. "There is a gage on the vambrace. Once it reaches 100%, it will release, and you can remove the relic from her arm." She then turned to Byakuya, waiting for him to ask a question.
He averted his attention to the table. He knew more than enough.
Crossing her arms behind her, she surveyed the Vice Captains one last time. "If there are no more questions, you are excused. Please wait for the Vice Captain of the Fourth."
The three men were summarily ushered into yet another small antechamber, where they waited, and waited, and waited some more. The only one who even attempted idle chatter was Gin. Kaien responded out of a firmly held sense of politeness, but his responses were superficial and laconic.
Byakuya, on the other hand, remained taciturn. He sat back with arms folded in front of him and with eyes shut.
After running out of topics to discuss with Kaien, Gin shifted in his seat. "So marriage, eh?" he began, setting his sights on the reluctant noble.
"Marriage and a Vice Captainship," Kaien added, somewhat amused by the turn of events. He wasn't sure what to make of it all. He assumed Byakuya was satisfied with his appointment. He was less sure of where Byakuya stood on the arranged marriage. Yet, he watched with quiet intrigue as Gin Ichimaru pursued the question.
"When do the invitations go out?" Gin asked, tilting his head to the side.
Byakuya exhaled a small breath. Unmoved, he continued to sit with his arms folded and eyes shut. He would not dignify such an impertinent question with a response.
"So a Spring wedding?"
"Winter," Kaien noted, remembering something his wife had said.
"How appropriate," Gin murmured. His dark intonations curled around Byakuya, and he waited patiently for a reaction.
The noble, however, paid Gin no heed. He was perfectly aware of the Vice Captain's meaning. Winter meant death, and, by extension, his marriage was doomed.
Byakuya was about to rebuke Gin for his insolence, but the creaking of the door swinging back stopped him. The room quietened as Captain Unohana crossed the threshold. She appeared to be calmer than usual, which was a portentous sign.
"Good afternoon." She maintained a look of repose better than any of the captains. Blood stained the hems of her white sleeves, and her forehead glistened with sweat yet she appeared perfectly serene. "My Vice Captain is slumbering. Would it be too much to ask for one of you to rouse her?" She turned to Byakuya.
Byakuya bowed his head. "Yes, Captain."
Before Unohana had the chance to summon a support staff to lead him to the room, he was out the door. She turned back to Kaien and Gin. "Vice Captain Ichimaru," she began, gently, "could you accompany my Third Seat, Isane Kotetsu, to the Fourth? I have made provisions for your journey." Unohana was very deliberate with her words, and, while it sounded like a question, it was not. It was an order.
Gin shifted slightly to see the young silvery-haired Third Seat standing demurely behind the Captain with chin tucked against her neck and eyes trained on the floor. Neither Kaien nor Gin had noticed her presence at first. But there she was, quiet as a church mouse.
Once Gin and Isane departed, Unohana's gaze lifted to Kaien.
"Do I have a fancy assignment?" he asked, all too aware that Unohana was moving them into place like pieces on a chessboard. Whatever she was planning to tell him wasn't going to be good. The Fourth's secrets were never good news.
She smiled slightly at his question before fishing in her robes. Finding what she needed, she withdrew a small parcel wrapped in a thick animal hide. Carefully, she handed it to Kaien, holding his gaze as she did. "My Vice Captain's journey will be a taxing one. As the relic draws her vitality from her body, she will suffer immensely. Each of her bodily systems will slowly begin to fail. These items will provide her temporary relief. Use them wisely."
Kaien nodded. "Yes, Captain."
She bowed her head. "Thank you, Vice Captain. Please, show my Vice Captain mercy."
. . . .
"Halt," a member of the Second, a masked man, shouted as Byakuya approached the door. He obeyed the order half-heartedly.
"I have been sent by Captain Unohana," he replied.
Checking the badge, the guard straightened before moving to the side. "Forgive me, Vice Captain Kuchiki."
Byakuya opened the door and crossed into the room. He steeled his mind and heart as he surveyed the area. It was small, sterile, and painfully bright—more suitable for the Fourth or Twelfth than the Second.
Shelves of strange liquids and implements lined the walls, and machines clicked, beeped, and hissed on the periphery. But it was the middle of the room that grabbed ahold of his attention and refused to let go.
Situated in the middle of the floor, Hisana slumbered in a glass case. It was a reiatsu chamber. He remembered seeing similar devices at the Fourth, but the design was startling. Slowly, he forced himself forward, and he peered inside.
Hisana was so painfully small and fragile inside that glass casket. She looked shrunken. Her skin was as pale as the new fallen snow, and it tightly spanned the curvature of her cheek, hollowing right under the bone. Her hair, once so lustrous, seemed dull splayed on the pillow, and her graceful hands, ever eager to soothe the weak and infirm, rested motionless on her chest.
Had she always been so delicate, so frail? She was petite, true, standing at just a hair over 145 centimeters, but, when she stood next to him, she seemed strong, vibrant, and unquestioningly alive.
She was not unquestioningly alive then. Her vitality was bleeding out of her body right before his eyes, and he could feel her reiatsu begin to flicker against his.
She looked like a beautiful corpse, so pale and fragile laying there with her fingers interlaced on her breast. Fear percolated in the pit of stomach as he stared at her lifeless form. Was this her fate? Could he stop the wheel from turning? And could he protect her, knowing that if all went as planned that her fate was to be nothing more than a beautiful corpse?
His muscles trembled, and he strained to compose himself. It was no use. His pulse quickened until all he could hear was the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, and he shook as if encased in ice. Apprehensively, his fingers felt for the casket's latches. The hard metal mechanism relented as he turned it back.
The hinges hissed as the glass top rolled back.
The noise did not rouse her. His presence went unnoticed. Even when he released his spiritual pressure, she remained perfectly still.
Reflexively, Byakuya took her hand in his. She was cold. Too cold.
"Hisana?" Her name was a question, and he searched her face, praying for an answer.
Cruel stillness.
"Hisana?" he tried again.
Again, his voice could not pierce her slumber.
Anxiously, he clasped her hand in both of his, hoping that his warmth would melt the eternal winter that had frozen her in place. Several long minutes drummed by. Nothing. She went unchanged, unmoved. Dead.
"Please, Hisana, awaken," he commanded softly. His brows furrowed, and his eyes widened. "Please." Desperate, he leaned down and kissed her on the head. "Hisana," he repeated, staring longingly into her face.
Slowly, her eyes opened. "Lord Kuchiki?" she murmured, feeling his presence. She turned her head to the sound of his voice. When her eyes met his, a soft smile lengthened her lips. "You're here." She watched him intently for a few long moments. "Thank you," she said, squeezing his hand.
Her attention trailed down to his arm, stopping at the wooden badge. Her smile faded as her gaze lingered on the symbols. Instinctively, she reached out and traced the outline of the camellia. Her touch was feather-light but probing nonetheless. "Are you ready to protect Soul Society, Vice Captain?" she asked him at length.
"Yes," he said, "to the end."
Author's Notes: So sorry about the length! I thought about breaking it up, but the natural break points left little to be desired from my POV. I tried to be even-handed with my treatment of Lady N, which I thought would be a nice change of pace since it is easy to dislike the woman bearing the family's seal of approval. I hope you enjoyed! As always, thank you for reading and reviewing!
Sunev.31: Indeed, Byakuya made a very rash contract to get his way. I have a few thoughts on how he can negotiate around the terms of agreement. Thank you so much for reading!
Torianime246: Thanks so much for reading! Yes, the aunt should really keep to herself. I hope to explore her motivations later down the road.
Nosono Takako: Aw, thanks! I really struggle with whether to show more or less. This chapter, for instance, I had hoped to explore a little more, but, then, the scenes just wouldn't conform to my expectations. Thanks again for reading!
Rose Attack: Hopefully, I got to your latter question (about 30 years). The timeline in Bleach is a little sketch from what I recall. Assuming that Rukia is a reliable narrator (a big assumption), she has been alive for 150 years. Byakuya finds Rukia about 49 years prior to the start of the storyline, which would mean that Hisana was alive for about 100 years in soul society. Working backwards, this story would take place approximately 56 years before the start of Bleach proper. (I hope that makes some sense. Forgive me if the math is off.) Thanks so much for reading!