A/N: Hey guys! First I wanted to say that I'm so flatter by the response I got on my last chapter. In all honesty, I don't typically get a lot of feedback on any of my stories, so I was really shocked. I was so flattered, It left me mega inspired to write this new chapter.
So a lot of people have made comments about the death of Renji, and I feel as if it deserves an explanation. Here are my reasons. First and foremost, I really wanted to press the point that this is war. People die, and there is no "reason" for it. It's sad and senseless, but it is what it is. Second off, I wanted to really solidify the losses and just how effected by the war the main characters of this fic are. It had to be personal and hit home. Renji means a lot to Byakuya, Ichigo, and Rukia. Losing him was a tragedy they could share in. Lastly, without Renji's death, a lot of this story wouldn't have been able to take place, or not realistically so. My hopes for this fic is to create a story that seems genuinely plausible and as in character as possible, and I needed there to be these factors that brought them together like this. Not saying Ichigo and Byakuya could never be a thing with Renji there, but I honestly think it would take a much longer time to grow into what I'm trying to create. I love Renji's character, and I know his death is sad, but personally, I think the best stories don't try to step around peoples emotions like their shards of glass, and instead, they take those emotions on a journey.
I'll reply to comments at the bottom.
Good vibes ~ Ashes.
A Spectrum Absorbed
xXx
You've been climbing shoulders around you,
trying to reach the big blue sky.
And all above you is just the blackness, darling.
And everything below you dies.
- Ben Howard
xXx
"Lord Kuchiki will see you now." Holding an empty sterling silver serving tray, an aged woman with a firm lip bowed regally. "He is in his study, which is where i'll present you," she stated curtly.
"Uh, okay." Ichigo followed in step with the attendant, quickly throwing Rukia an anxious over the shoulder look as he did so.
Her brilliantly helpful retort was a flippant wave of the hand and a roll of the eyes.
As Ichigo followed the attendant, he noted the simplistic elegance of the estate, feeling sooth by the warm color palette. The furniture was all hand crafted cherry wood, accented by dark jade sliding doors, all embroidered with a restrained yet tactful design. Bamboo tiles in clean geometrical shapes stretched from wall to wall and perched banzais lined the hallway. The whole ambience seeming to relax, even from the sweet sandalwood aroma that filled the air.
Upon entering the room, he first noticed the captain and nobleman free of any lofty raments that bespoke his prestige or position. Sitting upon a verdigris zabuton at a glossy wooden kyousoku, the nobleman was dressed in a stunning yutaka. The thick fabric was a royal purple hue with striking crimson pinstripes. The free flowing sleeves and draping of the garment were trimmed with one foot crimson borders that rippled down the man's fit form. Basking in the limpid sunlight shining through his opened paper doors, giving way to the picturesque garden, Byakuya was resplendent.
Ichigo thought, that with his subtly wavy hair loose and falling in which every way it cared against his milky tranquil face, Byakuya looked remarkably young. Not much older than Ichigo himself, actually.
His slender fingers fumbled only marginally for the handle of his cup, and slowly, taking extra care not to spill, he moved the rim to his stiffened lip and blew lightly.
"Lord Kuchiki, your guest has arrived," the attendant announced, a hint of disdain sounding through her respectively delivered greeting.
"Yo, Byakuya," Ichigo smiled, inwardly cackling at the scornful glare he received from the elder woman for his casual manner of addressing the nobleman. Giving the chambers a cursory once over, Ichigo whistled in approval. "Nice place, Byakuya. It's a lot less extravagant and showy than I thought it'd be."
The noble gave a ridiculing huff as he felt around the flat surface in an attempt to sit his cup on it's holder. "Yes," he mocked dryly, "we only bring out the gold encrusted china and trained lions for the most momentous of occasions."
Slinging off his swords and lazily leaning them against the wall, Ichigo snarked, "Great employs too," smirking at the scowling attendant, "so friendly."
As Ichigo came to sit parallel to the man, a barely visible smirk flickered on Byakuya's face. "I've trained them well," he deadpanned.
"So that's where they get that great personality from," Ichigo deadpanned in return. Sipping on his own piping tea, Ichigo's face contorted in aversion as he stuck out his tongue and made a yuck sound at the bitter sapidity. "You got any sugar for this?" Ichigo asked the peeved off attendant rudely, feeling satisfied with the woman's obvious annoyance.
Locking her jaw, the woman stifled a growl. "Right away, Kurosaki-san," she spat before retreating.
"Does your visit have a reason or are you simply here to antagonize my staff?" Byakuya inquired, perking an eyebrow.
"Hey, she started it," Ichigo justified, idly circling the rim of his cup with the pad of his finger. "Besides," he smirked, "antagonizing you is more fun anyway."
With an amused hum, Byakuya countered, "Especially when you do it so well. Though, I'm sure this is not the reason you requested an audience with me. It is oddly formal, for if you were merely trying to bother me, you'd have just scaled my window."
"Heh, I guess you caught me," Ichigo confessed, grabbing his nape nervously. "Well, It's going to take two weeks at least before Urahara will be able to make a seal that can hold in my reiatsu, so in the meantime, I'm going to hang around and contribute as much as I can. And, well, I guess I was hoping I could stay here," Ichigo managed to ask, stumbling over his words. He had no clue why he found this so hard of a request to articulate or why he felt anxious. Seeing the noble perk an eyebrow curiously, Ichigo amended, "Uh, don't get me wrong, I have no problem staying at a compound, it's just, everywhere I go..people are patting my back and treating me like some sort've celebrity." Twiddling his thumbs, he explained, "Maybe that should feel nice or something, but it just feels.."
"Suffocating?" Byakuya finished.
Ichigo's eyes softened and he exhaled a pent up breath, realizing he had no reason to feel unnerved around the nobleman. "Yeah," he solidified, smiling just barely.
Overlapping his hands gracefully, Byakuya turned his unseeing gaze towards the open estuary of his lush gardens before closing his eyes and inhaling dulcet whiffs of greenery. "You've just won the war and have experienced great tragedy. While being on the precipice of such a change in your life, I'm sure some normalcy would be pleasing. Or, at least, not being constantly reminded of what is plaguing you."
Out of everyone, of all the people he had met in his time as a shinigami, Ichigo never expected it be Byakuya who'd comprehended his harrowing quandaries without Ichigo even needing to verbalize them. To be so understood without judgment or the need for awkwardly fumbled explanations was refreshing and left Ichigo with an overwhelmingly peaceful sensation of security, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Honestly, he'd forgotten how nice something so simple could be. Perhaps that is what led to his earnest conversations with the noble, something he wasn't vulnerable enough to allow in anyone else's presence. This mutual understanding they shared of one another, it made him feel like, for the first time, he didn't have to be pertinaciously strong twentyfourseven.
"Thanks," Ichigo marveled just above a whisper, "for understanding, I mean." Clearing his throat, he positioned his voice back to it's normal boyish grit. "I had a feeling you would."
Splendidly, Byakuya's eyes glittered with gold dust, flourishing with a devilish charm. "It is only proper courtesy that I allow you dwellings here." Devoid of any verbal emotion, the noble said, "I shall assign my favored attendant, Fujita-san, to prepare your room and help you settle once she arrives with your sugar."
Gauging the man's face and the enjoyment in his eyes, Ichigo put on a half hearted scowl. "You have a twisted sense of entertainment," Ichigo remarked.
"I have no idea what you speak of," Byakuya defended with fraudulent naivety, biting back a smirk as he kept his face perfectly stony. "Though, I have never known anyone to dislike you, so this will be a humbling experience for you."
Rolling his eyes and leaning his cheek on a set of coiled fingers, Ichigo gave a mocking chuckle. "Plenty of people dislike me. Maybe people think of me as some hot shot here, but in the World of the Living, I'm just a punk with weird hair. Oh, add that I could see and talk to spirits that no one else could, I was everyone's favorite weirdo."
Tilting his head, Byakuya asked, "You hadn't many friends?"
"A few," Ichigo explained, "but most of us usually did our own things and mostly had our peculiarities in common. Still, growing up, most of the other guys really had it out for me." Rubbing his head, Ichigo poised, "I guess I was pretty popular with girls, though I don't really know why."
As if he was covering a cough, Byakuya lifted a handkerchief to his mouth and stifled an impending chuckle. Then he reprimanded himself for how endearing he found that surprising bout of innocence to be. The words cute and Ichigo should never be two things associated in his mind. In fact, Byakuya very rarely used the word cute to describe anything. None the less, he figured he'd allow the young man to work out the finer details of female attraction on his own and made no comment. After thinking on Ichigo's words for a moment, Byakuya ponder, "Perhaps I should be the one humbled then."
"Why?" Ichigo inquired, sharpening his eyes.
"I assumed the perspective of those of this world is the entire picture of whom you are when such isn't the case." Grey ablaze with sunny orange, his eyes looked like the specks of a sunset that filtered through throngs of Mongolian oak trees. "There's a whole part of you that is uniquely human." Genuinely intrigued, the nobleman asked, "Is this what you meant when you said you never fit into the living world, even before you became a shinigami?"
Unsure why, Ichigo felt pleased that someone actually cared to ask about his human facets. Sometimes it seemed people forgot about that side of him, and at times, even Ichigo forgot about it too.
"Partially," Ichigo answered bluntly, "I was always different, but with a shinigami dad and a quincy mom, it makes sense. I wasn't even really made for that world."
Byakuya hummed thoughtfully, "I do not believe this. The world is a diverse place with many anomalies. Being so does not mean you do not fit, just that.." he paused pensively, "you make a place for yourself, which you seem rather good at doing wherever you go. More so, though your powers were a cornerstone to your winning, it is your innate human tenacity that truly separates you from the rest. Do not fragment yourself," Byakuya said sternly, yet with a hint of ardent admiration. "Your human part is just as quintessential to who you are. You would not be Kurosaki Ichigo without it."
An unexplainable stirring surged through Ichigo's gut, it was warm and gooey and a sensation new to him. Once more, for reasons he wasn't even sure of yet, Ichigo found a light smile pulling at his features. All he knew for sure was, Byakuya saw and treated him in a way that was destinguishably different than others did, as if they were matching in more ways than not. Different covers and books with similar morals.
Feeling slightly off put by the ambiguous and unaccustomed feelings, Ichigo opted to change the subject rather than question it heavily. "So it's that obvious your attendant doesn't like me, huh?"
"She has been with my family since before I was born, so I do not need my sight to tell when she is bothered," Byakuya explained, secretly creeping his fingers inch by meticulous inch to his tea cup. "It is nothing you've done, surely. Fujita-san is rather protective, as I was all but raised by her."
"Oh, I guess that makes more sense." Chortling at the thought, Ichigo taunted, "Actually, it's kind've sweet, Kuchiki Byakuya being mothered. I'd pay an arm and a leg to see you get scolded."
If it wasn't so unbecoming, Byakuya would have rolled his eyes. Instead, he said, "You're ridiculous," to which Ichigo just smirked in amusement, flickering his eyes to Byakuya's fingers unsuccessfully grabbing for that familiar porcelain.
After noting the sound of a door slinging open and the soft rise and fall of shoes, Fujita-san made her way back to the pair. Bowing down, she dropped two cubes of sugar in Ichigo's cup. "Here you are, Kurosaki-san. I trust two is plenty." Glancing over to the labored searching of the nobleman's hand, she did not wait for Ichigo to respond before promptly sitting down the bowl of sugar cubes. "Let me help you, Lord Kuchiki," she announced, reaching out her hand only to have it grabbed by a firm yet calm grip.
Only barely holding back his scowl, Ichigo expressed in a steely and definitive manner that allotted no argument, "He is perfectly capable of doing that himself."
"Kurosaki Ichigo," said that cold, bone chilling baritone that could drop the temperature of a glacier. "I am not some damsel in distress, and I do not need you speaking on my behalf."
Looking pointedly into those coals shooting blood orange sparks at him, the young man did not waver for a moment. "Exactly, you're not a damsel in distress, and you don't need someone doing every little thing for you just because it's more convenient that way. You're going to need a lot of help, and you deserve the dignity to do whatever you can for yourself. It does more harm than good anyway because it keeps you from getting use to doing those things for yourself."
After a moment of staring blankly into a darkness that he knew met Ichigo's determined honey eyes, the nobleman addressed Fujita-san, not moving his gaze. "Fujita-san, please prepare Kurosaki Ichigo a room, he'll be a guest here until further notice, and leave us swiftly."
Throwing a concerned look between the young man and her lord, Fujita bowed and said, "Very well, sir. Right away," before turning to take her leave.
Hearing the door shut behind him, Ichigo immediately condoned his actions. "Look Byakuya, you can get mad, but I still won-" only to cut himself off when he noticed that almost deadly blood orange had mellowed once more into a sunny soft orange.
Taking more notice in his hand's grasp on his cup, Byakuya spoke shortly, "Thank you."
"Excuse me?" Ichigo baffled.
Before pressing his cup to his lips, Byakuya rebuked, "Clean out your ears, boy. I do not make it a habit of repeating myself."
A wide grin seemed to break the confines of Ichigo's face as he chuckled heartily. "I'll make a note of that, Byakuya."
For a while, Ichigo stayed and the two embarked in some frivolous yet amiably lighter chatter before Ichigo looked towards the clock and realized just how long he'd prolonged his visit.
When he finally emerged from Byakuya's quarters, he was met with a slap to the head. "Ow, what the hell, you she demon?!" he groaned, rubbing his head and walking right past a scowling Rukia.
"Um, I was waiting on you, moron. You took forever!" Rukia bellowed, hand on hip while following at the man's side.
"Geze, I got caught up," Ichigo excused. "Besides you live here, right? You didn't exactly have to wait around."
Rukia sighed in annoyance. "We're supposed to go help out with some construction, or have you already forgot? Did I smack it out of you?"
"Oh," Ichigo blinked a few times as the memory came back, "well it's not like we still can't go. I'm sure there's plenty of building to go around," he mocked aloofly while Rukia muttered insults under her breath.
"Well, I was going to ask how it went," Rukia noted, "but if your lighthearted reiatsu means anything, I'd judge it went well."
Giving her an aslant glare, Ichigo observed, "You don't seem surprised."
"Should I be?" she cocked an eyebrow in question.
Shrugging a shoulder, Ichigo admitted, "I'm still getting use to it. I mean, I guess I never expected your brother to be so friendly with me."
"Nii-sama is many things, most of which can't be viewed from the surface," Rukia clarified. "Anyway, he cares about honor and politeness. After everything you did in the war, of course he'll let you stay. It would be against his code of ethics to deny you."
For whatever reason, Ichigo found himself glowering at that. "So it's just because of what happened in the war then," he declared, howling as another hand made contact with his head. "God damnit, woman. What was that for?!"
"For being so dense," she rolled her eyes and shook her head in disappointment. "I guess I can't blame you for not recognizing it," she sighed.
"Recognizing what?" Ichigo wondered, scowl firmly in place.
"Nii-sama isn't one to say things point blank, but ever since you stopped my execution, he's shown obvious respect for you. You just had to be paying attention." Looking at Ichigo's suspect glare, she recalled, "After everything was said and done, he admitted to me that the law was less than perfect, which is a big thing coming from him. You made him realize that somethings are worth fighting, even if it's against the name of his clan, changed his perspective. When Renji and I went to Hueco Mundo, he provided the cloaks to help us escape. When you were without your powers, he volunteered to be one of the soul reapers looking out for you. He didn't think twice when asked to put some of his power into that sword that helped you get your powers back." Pondering in a silent moment, she blurted, "Oh, and when he fought that Book of End, fullbringer guy, we all had to appear in front of the Sōtaichō for a full report, and he admitted to being affected by that guy's sword. When he was asked how he was able to get past the guy's powers, he said," putting on her best Byakuya impression, "it was simple, I knew Tsukishima was an enemy of Kurosaki Ichigo's and acted as such." She gave a short nostalgic laugh. "I think if he understood what he was admitting to, he would have chosen his words differently, but Nii-sama can be dense too at times." Taking note of Ichigo's profoundly shocked glare, Rukia concluded, "So yeah, you earned some brownie points. At least enough to grant you a guest room."
Suspended in a moment of befuddlement, Ichigo wondered how he overlooked all that. All this time, while he barely payed the man attention, the nobleman was giving so much thought to Ichigo. It took him back to the battleground where Ichigo stood in front of an expiring Byakuya bestowing his last pleas. At the time, Ichigo gave little thought to it, but now that he really sat on it, it was pretty remarkable. Out of all the people Byakuya could have passed his last words along too, he chose Ichigo. He could have easily asked Ichigo to give his words to someone else, like Rukia and Renji, maybe another powerful captain. In that moment, the most important thing to Byakuya was the protection of his world and the people he loved. With the weight of all of his important things, he dropped his pride and asked Ichigo of all people to carry that baggage. More than anyone else, Byakuya trusted Ichigo with those things. the man who once arrogantly proclaimed his superiority and declared Ichigo had no place among the shinigami. That amount of reverence coming from such an accomplished captain and prideful man left Ichigo feeling wonderfully honored.
"I never realized," Ichigo rasped.
"Yeah, well, like I said, Nii-sama's not really vocal about these things," Rukia reiterated. "He felt gratitude towards you, and he wanted to show it, but it didn't matter if you knew it or not, because that's not what matters to him. He doesn't care about acknowledgment, it's just the type of man he is." The smile on her face faded into a small, wistful frown, "If Renji were here, he'd tell you the same thing."
A matching frown came over Ichigo's face, yet he quickly tried to push the melancholy away. Placing a hand on Rukia's shoulder, Ichigo insisted, "I'll take your word for it. Come on, let's go ahead and find somewhere to help out."
xXx
To say Byakuya had been taken by surprise by the presence of Ichigo would be a fair assertion. He had been sure that when and if Ichigo sought him out again, he'd have already retired into isolation. It was that reason he dropped the veneer of which he held onto so tightly and opened up to Ichigo in ways he dared not with any others.
Having Ichigo see him after becoming privy to even an iota of Byakuya's true colors, peeled of his proper noble attire, he felt so naked, painfully on display for the man.
Seeing as he could not put on his kenseikan himself, he felt unworthy of wearing the bearings of his ennoblement. More so, while the remaining captains were hustling, running themselves bone ragged, Byakuya could do little that did not include the help of an attendant. Most certainly, he could do only a modicum of what was needed from him.
He wiggled and stretched his gloveless digits, absorbing the strange sensation of his hand's bareness. Forever they'd feel like this, empty and naked. He clenched them, trying to recall the rush of his breathtaking power that flowed through his palms and out his fingertips, relish in the memories hidden within the muscles and tendons. So beautiful, he held pride in his abilities and the manner of which he contorted a deathly flock of nature's raw elegance. Now he could not yield his pride without possibly hurting those around him.
Then he ran his sensitive blades through the feathery locks of opulent raven strands, using his fingers to brush through the tresses until he nimbly twisted the end of the longest, shoulder length piece between his thumb and pointer. He took note of how airy his hair felt without the hairpieces, caressing the layers as if in apology.
Lastly, he stroked the protruding bones of his collar area with the most velvet of contact, tickling the dip briefly as if recalling and engraving the feeling of his ginpaku kazahana no uzuginu resting there. Silently, he spoke his 'I'll miss you's.'
Without these items, including his captain's haori, he felt so lost, as if he was a child wandering aimlessly, waiting for instruction. Without them, what was he? He had no claim to these adornments and no right to wear them. His inability to act as leader of his squad and house made him nothing but a mare on his adherents.
Despite all of this, his shame and self loathing, the nobleman found himself troubled to keep a glint of a smile from forming on his face.
Even in his solitude, he encumbered the gesture. It do him no good grinning foolishly over Kurosaki Ichigo. Admittedly, he enjoyed the man's company, and found himself reinvigorated by the young man's vicinity. Though he hadn't meant to, he lowered his defenses slightly and let the other man close, closer than anyone else would get without freezing from his icy tundra of a disposition.
He wondered, if he had not been so bare with the other, would Ichigo had attempted this type a friendship. Probably not, but then again, it always seemed as if Byakuya was made of glass when it came to Ichigo. As if the young man just saw through his strident glare and his draconian speech more than anyone. More than anyone, he tried to understand.
None the less, it was bothersome, because Byakuya didn't want to miss anyone more than he had too already, and he found this companionship more pleasant than he should. Why torture himself with such silly things? Allowing the starkness of his habitués to shine with Ichigo and the lightness of sharing those small things were addictive in their nature, and he found himself not so easily wanting to give them away. Yet Kuchiki Byakuya was not suppose to desire things for himself, but only for his clan.
How bizarre it was that while Ichigo seeing Bakuya like that, at first, made him feel mortified, he eventually felt truly serene with being comprehended and treated like an equal? It was just the man Ichigo was, equipped with a boundless wealth of stubborn optimism. He didn't know better or how to see when something was hopeless, which was what made him so spectacular.
In contempt with his shock was the awareness that Ichigo had only came to ask a favor of him, a completely reasonable favor, but a favor none the less. Yet, the young man stayed and talked with him for quite a while, something he didn't have to do.
Still Byakuya was sure this was just the person Ichigo was. In his distress, the young man likely needed something or someone the cling mentally to, someone to help, and Byakuya gave him that distraction. Ichigo had claimed his motives were care, and in a way, Byakuya was sure they were, but Ichigo just couldn't help to care for everyone on some level. Surely he wouldn't be affected by Byakuya departure past a surface level. Byakuya didn't believe many would, but to the nobleman's dismay, that thought crashed over him with a wave of loneliness.
Would anyone besides Rukia miss him at all? No. Even the closest thing he had to a friend had been taken by the war, and Byakuya knew undeniably, that without his vision, he was meaningless to everyone around him. This was his comeuppance for the years of pushing everyone away after Hisana, which he never regretted and had his reasons for. It was enough that he had his powers and position to ground him, but now without those, he had nothing. Byakuya was nothing.
Feeling pathetic writhing in his self pity, Byakuya shook himself from the depreciating thoughts. Right as he went to call Fujita-san, the attendant knocked on his door. He contemplated briefly how the woman had him clocked so well before he commanded, "Enter."
She glided in with her usual dexterous aura, allowing herself to smile wordlessly at the noble as she retrieved his silverware. "That Kurosaki-san, perhaps he is not so bad," she posed.
The nobleman allowed himself the rarest of smiles in the company of his lifetime attendant. "You say this after the manner of which he reprimanded you?"
Sagged skin was tugged on by the pull of a knowing grin. "Let me give you a nugget of wisdom from a woman who has treated the Kuchiki men of this house as if they were her own sons. What a real mother wants from the associates of their children is not unquestionable authority and reverence, but an unquestionable bravado in the way one will care for and about their children." Placing the cluttered tray on the nobleman's desk, Fujita assured, "That he has, or so I believe."
Sighing, she added, "I worry for your wellbeing. I know how gracious you can be, despite how you hide it from others. So I did not want him coming in here and taking for granted that graciousness with his favors."
Thoughtfully, the nobleman looked at his folded hands and closed his eyes. "He has the best of intentions," Byakuya ensured. "In his own way, I believe he only asked this of me because he considers us..friends."
Quickly sweeping over the enclosure, sprucing disorderly stacks of papers, the woman looked over to the noble with a surprised lift of her brow. "And what about yourself, Lord Kuchiki, do you considering him a friend?"
Gazing into the dark environs of his space, as if he could pull the answer from the dearth of light, he responded, "Perhaps as much of one as a man like I could have." Jumping from one subject to another, the nobleman tasked, "I must return to my work. How many had I left?"
"Twenty or so." Looking tentatively to the young man, she asked, "Would you like help making your way to your desk, or woul-"
Already making his way to his feet, wobbly so, Byakuya held out a dismissive hand. "Kurosaki Ichigo was right, I must keep my dignity in whichever way I can." Remembering the layout of his office, Byakuya mentally drew a path in his head. Over all, he stumbled and clumsily made his way one step at a time, however he made it there. These were little victories.
Moving over beside the man, she laid the prearranged papers in front of the noble. "I understand, Lord Kuchiki. It's the mother in me. I'll calm my worrisome hands. Though I do think you'd benefit from a walking stick of sorts, that way you can walk around more freely."
He nodded. "You are probably right. Who is next?"
Clearing her throat from any audible anguish, Fujita looked at a clipboard before placing a prepared piece of parchment to the wood, saying, "Sado Amaya, your tenth seat." Each letter of condolence began with the same line, 'Dear, (insert parent's/family's name here)'. In this manner, it was easy to keep up with which members he'd already written a letter for.
Sixty three squad members of the sixth division in all had fallen, and since many shinigamis came from aristocratic families, they were borned souls and had parents and spouses that needed to know about their loved one's deaths. Forty had already been prepared, each completely unique besides the first line. After such a failure to his squad, Byakuya wouldn't lamante those loses with vague generic statements and stamped signatures. Perhaps he was known for his coldness, but in this aspect, Byakuya had no impassiveness to give. He would not be phlegmatic while honoring the lives of his subordinates.
"It is with my deepest mourning that I must inform you that your daughter, Sado Amaya," he spoke, taking pauses to let Fujita keep up, "sacrificed her life for the sake of our worlds. Sado-san had great potential, an earnest devotion to betterment, a positive disposition, and a mastery of kido that surpassed higher seated officers. There are few words to convey my gratitude towards her service and the remorse I feel towards being unable to protect her in the passing war. The only solace I can give for her death is the confirmation that, when she expired, it was with thoughts of protecting her world and loved ones, and that it was not in vain."
With help from Fujita, her hand over his, he gripped the quell rod and steadied his hand. Shaking, he dipped his pen, placed his signature, placed the writing utensil on the table, and sighed. "Alright, next."
xXx
Among the confines of the fourth division, the halls were now beginning to dwindled. It seemed less like a house of horrors, yet the tortured energy lingered like the stench of cigarette smoke. It had seeped into the walls, and they were now echoing the misery that could no longer be seen, but only felt.
Rukia and Ichigo both had spent a considerable amount of time on rebuilding, and afterwards, there were people they both wanted to visit in the healing center. While Rukia visited with one of her squad members, Ichigo walked through the halls, alone with his bustling, constantly intertwined thoughts.
Compared to the cacophony of screams and wails, the silence almost felt eerily disconcerting, leaving the young man restless. As he passed by a stairwell, that stillness was disrupted by soft, familiar whimpers.
Ichigo opened to door to see Orihime sitting on the stairs, her body quivering against steel railings. Wearing the same wrinkled shihakushō she'd been healing in yesterday, the girl looked ghastly ashen. Auburn hair was frayed from the loose bun she wore. Her lips were cracked and dehydrated and shadows of unsightly grey darkened her face. More worrisome, though Ichigo was no master at sensing reiatsu, Orihime's was dangerously low.
Urgently, Ichigo knelt beside her and gave her shoulder a firm shake. "Inoue, are you okay?" he asked.
Her inert limbs jolted slightly as she strained to open her eyes. The whites were veiny red, barely visable through her slitted eyelids. It was obvious the girl was spent well past her physical and mental limits. A spark of recognition caused the healer to gape to her maximum capacity as a look of dewy shame befell on the man. "Kurosaki-kun?" she rasped weakly, her voice sticky and filled with a vibrant heartache.
"Inoue, what have you done to yourself?" Ichigo groaned out, taking in the woman's tenuous state with concern.
Fresh trails of brimmy tears painted the healers lifeless cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Kurosaki-kun. I'm...so sorry I couldn't save... Renji," she sobbed silently, to exhausted to do much other than let the tears fall.
Ichigo's face twisted painfully as he locked his jaw, containing the raging anger that was trying to escape with any opportunity it got. "Hey, don't say that," he pleaded, wrapping his arms around the girl. "Were going to get you some help, okay?" Lifting the girl up, her head slung against his chest in exhaustion.
"There were so many... people I was unable…. to bring back. Please," she murmured, "don't hate me."
Ichigo shushed her nonsensical and unwarranted pleads for forgiveness as he pushed through the door. If anyone should be apologizing, he should apologize to her. He hadn't even thought to check on her, and she was right there in the quincy kings chambers with him, fighting against the monster.
"I need a healer," Ichigo yelled, swiveling his head back and forth in hopes to catch a glimpse of someone.
Hearing his imploring, Isane stepped around the corner, took one look at the pair, and instructed, "Come with me."
Following behind her, Ichigo asked, "How could you let her get like this?"
Isane gave him a warning glare that could surpass her successor. "I've tried to make her sleep on multiple occasions," she explained, quickening her steps. She refused up until the last time, but when I came to her room to perform a sleep kido, she had already left." She tutted, "Went to heal more, no doubt." Entering into a barren room, Isane told Ichigo to lay her on the bed. "She hasn't been able to sleep. Perhaps it didn't seem so earlier, but she was rather affected by her inability to save all those affected by condensed reishi poisoning." Looking upwardly to the man, she explained, "I believe she's having some form of PTSD, with being in the thick of battle and her inability to heal her friends. Her anxiety is keeping her from sleeping and she's well past her limits."
Clenching his jaw until it wanted to crack under the pressure, Ichigo looked down at the girl's barely aware eyes floating up to him. "Inoue.."
Softly, Isane said, "She is just a human and needs some time. However, once she's home and things return to normal, I believe she will be fine. I'm going to perform a sleep kido, and after she drifts off, I'm going to replenish her reiatsu."
Nodding in understanding, Ichigo grasped her hand tenderly. With all of her strength, she squeezed his fingers in hers. "I'm sorry...I worried you..Kurosaki-kun. I just wanted to heal..as many people that I could," she moaned.
"Don't worry about me," he chided, stiffening slightly. "Worry about getting some sleep."
"Will you..stay..until the kido takes?" she requested
Nodding, Ichigo said, "Yeah, of course."
"I couldn't..help you like.. I wanted," she explained feebly, "and the one thing...I can do..I failed at that too." Her eyes pooled with tears as she begged, "Please..forgive me.."
Shaking his head frantically, Ichigo felt the prickle of tears forcing their way out. With everything he had, he fought against their tepid permeation. "No. None of this is your fault, so don't say that."
Looking up to the man with a weak knowing smile, she said, "It's not yours either."
A dry lump in his throat doubled and seemed to vibrate back and forward like an accordion. He said nothing, only forcing a smile in return as he tightened the lock on their hands. Frowning a bit, the healer asked, "Why..do we..always expect more from..ourselves..than others? Our advice always... includes.. everyone but.. ourselves…"
Fingers going slack and eyes fluttering in relaxation, Ichigo could tell the girl was winding down into sleep. "I don't know, Inoue," he whispered, "That's a good question. Maybe I'll have an answer when you wake up."
With her chest now falling in fewer, yet deeper breaths, Ichigo, with a grime expression, looked up to the healer standing across from him. "I'll be back to check on her," he said through gritted teeth. Not waiting for a response, Ichigo ran from the room in search of some fresh air and some composure. He couldn't, wouldn't, lose it.
xXx
Despite his often unmoved face, a whole spectrum of emotions lived within the Kuchiki lord. From a young age, he was taught to recognize these emotions and then tame them. These melancholy requiems of his heart were for his ears alone. Even happiness, it was to be stifled. Kuchiki's were control, unyielding stone edifices of power and authority whom would never be victimized by something as petulant as emotions.
However, even with a self discipline stymie as the wall of jericho, holding it all within became so daunting at times. When the tempest of emotions raged against him, eroding his walls with the power of a thousands tsunamis, it seemed all but impossible to hold every single drop of his inner storm at bay.
In his study, Byakuya sat feeling utterly drained from writing sixty plus emotionally taxing letters without allowing so much as a hint of sorrow surface on his face. He simply focused on his breathing, the push and pull of his lungs the only noise that comprised the room. Thinking only of those methodical breaths, he found the single minded simplicity bringing him composer, as if the oxygen lulled the sea within.
The nobleman was pulled from his soothing exercise by a knock on his chamber door. "Enter," he commanded.
"Lord Kuchiki," Fujita greeted, bowing respectfully. "A member of your division was just here. He delivered something that was left in your division office."
Hearing the light creak of metal hinges and gentle flutters slicing the air, Byakuya questioned, "It is a Jigokuchō?"
"Yes, my lord." Moving towards the desk, she added carefully, "There also seems to be a green head band in the cage."
Trying not to appear so urgent, the nobleman held a firm face. "Please set it in front of me and take your leave, Fujita-san."
Loafing her tongue from any queries of distress, she gingerly placed down the gilded cage with the latch facing her lord before silently taking her leave.
With steady hand, Byakuya reached out towards the clinched bars. His approaching touch tremord at the gut wrenching jolt he felt as an unmistakable reiryoku intermingled with his own. He anchored himself with breathing and castigated himself for his puerile hesitation.
Finger pads met the cold sting of metal, and he glided them down in search for the lock, an uncontrollable tightening pressure throttling his chest cavity with every slithering movement. At last, he found the latch and opened it readily. Sliding his fingers along the bottom, right by the entrance, he felt a wrinkled clump of fabric. Hooking his fingers through, he suppressed a whimper at the ever present reiryoku of Renji hitting him like the weight of a bolder atomizing his trachea. Of course, it was not the strength of the energy that seemed to choke him, but the feelings they imbued.
Running the fabric through his fingers, it felt as if his old subordinate was standing right in front of him, patiently awaiting orders. It was as if, at any moment, the man would do something so endearingly playful yet horribly aggravating. Truthfully, the nobleman was never as bothered as he acted. In fact, he found himself dreadfully lonely without the silly prattle of his once second in command.
Even just a hint of that feral and bold energy sparked memories in the nobleman. During his fight with Gerard Valkyrie, he told Renji and Rukia both to go assist Ichigo, which they complied with. He didn't expect Renji to return, nor had he wanted him too. None the less, Byakuya admittedly needed his help in defeating the beast, seeing as the vizards, Kenpachi, and Toshiro were all out of commission. Why did he return? More so, why was Renji killed and he was spared, considering Byakuya was the closest to the blast? Did Renji somehow block him? It was unclear, for the last thing he remembered was a blinding bright light.
Gracefully, Byakuya held out his upturned pointer finger, allowing the ebony creature to perch itself. Holding his hand out, he prompted the delivery from the butterfly, and his breath caught at the rickety voice that followed.
"Taichou, uh.. I don't have a lot of time." The man laughed nervously, "It's funny, I've been practicing what I was going to say, but I guess there's really no preparing for these short of things. So, here it goes..four days ago Fukutaichou Sasakibe was killed and a declaration of war was made, and these Quincies are coming really soon. All the squads have been preparing how ever they can, but I can tell, this is going to be bad. Everyone can, you can feel it in the air. This is a 'just in case' kind of message. Because, I might die and..there's somethings I can't die without you knowing."
The breath Byakuya was holding choked him painfully and his heart twisted. With every word, he fought against an explosion of flagrant emotions, but it proved difficult, as his insides felt completely charred, burnt up from the torrid confined flames of grief.
"When I first met you, I really hated you. Uh.." the man berated himself under his breath, "that's not what I wanted to tell you, but it's apart of it. You had taken Rukia from me, and she was like a sister to me, so it felt like you swooped in all better than me and took the only sister I ever had. I spent years trying to best you, becoming stronger because of you. For a long time, I just didn't get you, but I admired you." A smile could be heard in the man's voice as he continued, "You were virtuous, self sacrificing, powerful, you had the most beautiful zanpakuto I'd ever seen. I knew that no matter how you presented yourself, that was a true representation of your soul, and woe, it was something else. An amazing manifestation for an amazing man, I thought. After the incident with Rukia..I feel like I've gotten to know you better, and I was right. You're as great of a man as you are unreachable. It just takes someone getting really close to see it."
He took a composing breath. "I know I'm rambling, but here me out. What I'm trying to say is, you're like this beautiful, prideful sakura tree. Your family, nobility, and captaincies, even your love for gardening, their your roots, your foundation. Your senpai's, Rukia, their the need them to grow, and their apart of who you are, but like rain, there not an everyday part of your life. You push them away because you fear too much will drown you. But your sun, the light you need daily that changes you and your limbs naturally grow toward, I think that was your late wife, but after she died, her sunlight slowly dimmed everyday. Now, me? I was just an admirer. I'd come and watch your beauty, talk to you, and maybe, in a small way, you enjoyed that and even grew because of that, but you see, I was never vital. That's fine. I could never expect more than the position I had at your side, but if I'm being honest, I'm a pretty greedy guy, because…" he spat out resolutely, "I wanted to be your sun. Mostly, I just hated seeing you wither slowly without it."
Every single word oxidized his fire tremendously, making that sea of flames let out a mighty roar, banging on the walls with a desperate fury. Shaking the bars, they were making his insides reverberate with a need for release. Each word pounded against his constitution, demanding for the necessity of liberation, and the nobleman's whole core shook as a result, echoing through his lonely frame. Those insuppressible flames leaked out, the tepid streams of saline heartache spewed from the most cerclean of star clusters lighting up the nobleman's eyes. As the tears flowed, each jewel like droplet alleviate the built up pressure. What a sweet catharsis it was. Pressing his forearm against his mouth, he muffled a moan of mournfulness that he couldn't care nor attempted to hold in.
Renji gave a dry chuckle, "You'd probably kill me if you ever heard my say this, but in a way, I think Ichigo had became your new sun. You've changed since he's came around. Subtly, but it's definitely there. I know because I'm a vigilant watcher of yours. He's kind've everyone's though, right? He's changed everyone a little bit since he came around, but few as much as you. I would never tell that cocky punk that, but it's true, heh?" Sighing, Renji concluded, "Anyway, I need to wrap this up. If I don't, you'll come looking for me soon, and I won't have to worry about dying because you'll get me first."
Byakuya let out a bittersweet chuckle at his subordinates words, all of his emotions commingling into one anarchic uproar. Malaise, anger, wistfulness, regret, it was all present.
"If I don't make it, I want you to find someone else to add heat back to your sun, because you deserve to fucking flourish, tachiou," he exalted, tears apparent in his voice. "If I can, I'll protect you in this war. I know you don't need it, but If it comes down to it, I hope that's the way I go out. If not, maybe I'll live and one day have the guts to tell you in this all in person. Heh, probably not, but maybe. Anyway.. I love you, like, I'm punch drunk, write corny poems, in love with you. I just wanted you to know that. Good Bye, Byakuya."
As the voice of Renji faded out, Byakuya sat amongst the rapturous pain of its finality. The confession and his moxie of emotions seemed to finally settle into the nobleman's skin, and the silence that followed Renji's last words seemed just a bit lonelier, a bit more forceful in its existence.
He neither halted nor compelled the tears, but only allowed them to flow continuously, stinging his unmoved, calmed features. Byakuya merely stared blankly, allowing his breathing to return to its normal pacing, and mutely, he granted the tears free reign to run dry, drain him of this toxicity while simultaneously remedying his broken soul.
Perhaps it was weak of him, but the tears made him feel stronger, as if he'd be able to face the world without the possibility of boiling over.
Mirroring his late wife's last words, Byakuya said, "I'm sorry I could not return your love, Renji."
The lessons of his grandfather were like a broken record playing in his head. The mantra of control and self discipline spinning violently through the man.
Again, if only to the memory of his loved ones lost, Byakuya said, "I'm sorry I could never be as strong as you, ojiisan. However, I needed this. By now, you should be use to my disappointing you."
Something inside the man could not rest, he felt fidgety for action of some sort. Swimming alone in this darkness, he needed to do something, some gesture of any type of significance to show the importance of the lives lost. Perhaps, something that could act as closure for the death of his second in command and friend. At the moment, he needed to not feel as useless as he was.
"Senbonzakura," Byakuya said out out loud, "manifest. I need your assistance with something.
'Yes, master. Right away.'
xXx
LustfulAvarices : Thank you for the review! I know, I suck. :( I hope my reasoning made sense though and that you're still able to enjoy this story for what it is.
Tifanny91: Thank you for such a nice comment. It really made me smile. I'm a CNA, so I've worked with people of varying disabilities. Always, I find it so sad when people slowly start losing parts of who they are because of it. As a CNA, we're stressed about helping people stay as true to themselves as possible and keeping as much of their dignity and freedom as they can, so I feel as if I have an understanding for people with different disabilities and debilitating illness. One of the reason I wanted to write about a blind Byakuya is because, first off, I find him to be emotionally deep despite how little emotion he shows. Just from his back story alone, it's easy to tell that he's more than meets the eye. However, he's all about self sacrifice and seems to only put his purpose into his position and his ability to protect the people he cares for. I also know he's probably the most prideful character out of the whole cast. So I knew being unable to do those things in the manner of which he use to would send him into a world pool of self loathing. I'm excited to explore his journey through this and the process of which he changes his mindset. I'm glad you can see the similarities between Byakuya and Ichigo. I've always felt like they have more in common than they realize and this fic really pushes that point. In fact, it's those similarities that draw them together. Ichigo has his fair share of healing to do also, and that will too be fully explored.
Haikha: Ah, you flatter me. Thank you for your review, it's mucho appreciated.
phoenix220: Thanks love! I wanted Ichigo to mature form the war, but of course, he still needs to mature more, which Byakuya will help with. In cannon, about 75% of soul reapers have died. So truthfully I'm not exaggerating the losses. I hope my explanation up above gave some understand to why I killed off Renji.
Dust-of-Moon: Thank you for the review! The support is always appreciated. I'm actually writing quite a few Byaichi fics, if you're interested in checking those out. Their mostly A.U's though.
ctofi1: Thank you for checking out my story! I'm glad your interested and I tried not to make you guys wait so long for an update this time around. :)