Year Three: Spring

It has been days since Hisana last saw Byakuya at the bridge. Almost a week, to be precise. And, while she knows he has many obligations that could detain him for days, he's never gone this long without warning her at least.

She's beginning to worry. They hadn't left on bad terms the last time they saw each other. To the contrary, he had invited her inside for tea at the end of the night, and she had kissed him. Hard.

Chewing on her bottom lip, panic rises in her chest.

While not yet an official member of the Sixth, Byakuya has been accompanying his father on excursions in the Rukon likely in preparation for assuming his father's duties at the squad. There are dangers in the Rukon even for someone as talented as the young lord, a fact that she knows far too well.

Glancing down the bridge, Hisana wrings her hands and swallows thickly. Nobles and Shinigami trickle across in sparse streams. With night descending, however, the crowds are thinning.

Where are you, Byakuya?

A flash of familiarity rattles her. It's the type of flash that sizzles your innards while your brain struggles to process it. Hisana's heart grinds to a halt when she realizes what, exactly, has caught her attention.

Nobutsune Seike.

She turns away from the elderly manager of House Kuchiki, breath hitching in her throat. It's nothing, she thinks. Maybe he's just out and about attending to the business of running a major estate.

The dread crawling under her skin, however, signals otherwise.

When Seike stops less than an arm's length away, Hisana's grip on the wooden railing tightens. She braces herself, ready for terrible news. The muscles in her shoulders and arms tense, and her heart leaps into a gallop.

This is bad. Real bad.

"Miss Hisana," Seike says, voice somber and low.

She cuts him a sidelong glance. He's staring into the water that flows beneath the bridge. The lines of his face suddenly deepen, and he closes his eyes. He, too, appears to be bracing.

"Is something the matter with the young lord, Mr. Seike?" she asks.

He nods his head. "Lord Kuchiki has been gravely injured."

A cold internal wind blows through her, icing her veins and setting frost to her nerves. "Gravely?" she echoes, voice scaling several octaves.

"He is currently convalescing at the Coordinated Relief Station."

With these words, it feels like Seike has just struck her in the chest with a war hammer. All the air drives out of her lungs, and, for a few long moments, Hisana struggles to breathe. "Is there anything that I can—"

Seike shakes his head.

"Is he allowed visitors?"

"Yes, but he is on a restricted unit."

"Restricted unit?" Her head snaps in his direction. "Restricted how?"

Seike gives her a heavy stare, one that she immediately understands to mean that she, a mere peasant who isn't family or a superior, is restricted from seeing him.

"Wait." Her eyelids flutter.

Of course.

How could she have forgotten?

The idea that takes hold isn't perfect. She is definitely going to have to break a few rules, but she thinks she might get away with it.

No, she absolutely will get away with it.

"Miss Hisana?" prompts Seike.

"Do you think Lord Kuchiki would like to see a restricted visitor?"

The darkness of Seike's eyes eases at this question, and a corner of her lips twitch. "I think the young lord would very much like to see you, Miss Hisana."

"Perfect," she says, and, with a small bow, she sets off in the direction of the Fourth.

"Don't break too many rules," he calls after her.

She pauses long enough to shoot him a grin. "Perish the thought."

And, so, she races forward, prepared to break all the rules.


It takes a little more effort than Hisana initially thought, but she's great at playing an affable fool and an incorrigible gossip. She half-answers the paperwork necessary to volunteer as a student orderly, and, when they come back with questions, she takes the opportunity to extract as much information about the layout and units of the Coordinated Relief Station.

The "restricted unit," to which she thinks Seike was referring actually has a painfully pretentious name, The Pavilion of Wellness and Good Spirits on the Banks of the River Tranquility. Because of course it does.

As one might expect based on a name so pretentious, this unit is restricted to only the highest of the highborn and the wealthiest members of Seireitei. Accordingly, the unit has a strict "No Dummies; No Newbies" rule, meaning that volunteers, students, trainees, or junior members of the Fourth are expressly forbidden to provide services to these esteemed members of Society. Further, no one without a trust fund and a clean line of credit is even allowed on the unit to visit with the patients.

Since Hisana has never had a trust fund or a clean line of credit and is now a freshly minted orderly, with a badge and horrifically ugly uniform to identify her as such, she is very much the sort of riff-raff that that The Rules intend to keep out. In practice, though, all this means is that she is going to have to infiltrate the unit.

It doesn't take her long.

Unsurprisingly, the division that helps mend the wounded isn't exactly an impenetrable fortress full of Shinigami just dying to stab you for crossing them. And, getting access to the patient census—even on the extra special "No Riff-Raff Allowed" unit—is mere child's play.

Armed with everything she needs to effectuate her plan, Hisana waits for the right opportunity, and that opportunity presents itself no less than thirty minutes into her shift when a small group of injured students presents for treatment. The chaos that ensues diverts enough attention and resources, allowing her to sneak away.

Getting into The Pavilion isn't much more difficult since security is practically non-existent, and the unit itself appears to be empty.

It's not empty, though, a fact that she realizes when she stumbles across the room that has commanded all the professionals' attention.

The Lord Lieutenant….

He's in a room with a floor-to-ceiling window, which allows anyone in the hall to see inside. One look reveals that nearly a dozen medical professionals are laboring hard to stabilize him. The machines connected to him are howling. Alarm bells ring loudly enough that even she can hear them through the thick sheet of glass and the heavy closed door.

Her heart drops, and she forces herself away. There's nothing she can do, and, if she sees something horrific, she'll feel compelled to say something to Byakuya, and she doesn't think that information will help him at all if he is also gravely injured.

It doesn't take much effort to find Byakuya's room, and, when she cracks open the door and peers inside, she finds Byakuya sitting up in the bed frowning. His mouth opens, and he has that look. It's the look he gets when he is about to lay into someone for having the audacity to exist near him: eyes closed, not a wrinkle or line to be found, head held far too high for a man chained to a hospital bed by no fewer than four machines, and his prim mouth wrapping around words that would make a pious man curse.

"I will not ask again, you-" he begins, eyes slowly opening. When he sees her, he swallows what she thinks was likely an acerbic put-down.

Hisana smirks from the doorway, her fingers gripping the thin steel tray with two miniature paper cups with pills inside. "Shall I go?" she asks, and points over her shoulder in the direction of the hall.

"Hi—"

"I wouldn't want to disturb you-"

"Hisa—"

"Or cause you any agitation, my lord."

"Hisana-"

"I suppose your on-duty nurse can give you these painkillers when she gets off her break in an hour."

"You came," he says, words tangling on an unsteady breath.

"I came."

"How did you—"

"Mr. Seike." She crosses the floor to him. "He found me at the bridge and told me." Reaching Byakuya's side, she sets the tray down and pours him a cup of water. "I came after hearing the news."

"How are you allowed—"

Hisana grins and leans down. "Technically speaking," she whispers, "I'm not allowed. But the Fourth offers volunteer shifts to Academy students to serve as orderlies, and, well, what do you know? They had a spot. It's busy enough today so I slipped away and now I'm here. With you."

She hands him the tiny paper cup with two blue pills. "I am told this is for inflammation."

He takes the cup, tilts his head back, and swallows it dry.

"Impressive."

If Hisana had to make a wager, Byakuya probably lives off various sorts of painkilling concoctions. Probably of the naturalistic kind. But still….

"I've had my fair share of incidents."

She chuckles. "So, the patient admits to being reckless. I think that's something I should add to the notes."

A corner of his mouth tugs up into a grin. "Captain Unohana already has that noted in my chart."

"Well, I can update it to confirm no status changes," she teases before handing him the remaining paper cup along with the water. "This one is for fever and pain."

He takes it without protest. "How long is your shift?"

Hisana shrugs. "As long as I can get away with it, I suppose." Giving him a long onceover, she bites her lip.

Byakuya looks to be in horrible condition. He is wrapped from head to toe in bandages. Four machines are tethered to him via an IV that runs from his forearm. Also strapped to him are several monitors to check his heart rate, pulse, blood pressure, and reiatsu. These machines all of make various beeping and hissing noises.

"I'd ask if you are feeling okay, but the answer seems pretty obviously not," she observes drily.

"Fair assumption."

"What happened?" she asks, voice going low, quiet.

When he offers her his hand, she takes it in both of hers. Carefully. Gently.

"My father," he says before succumbing to a coughing fit.

She hands him a cloth and waits.

When he catches his breath, he glances away from her.

She thinks it's shame that darkens his face, but she doesn't know why. Maybe it's because he's clearly injured. But, there's no shame in that. Shinigami get injured all the time. Hell, even the students get injured all the time.

Maybe it's because he feels like he failed.

Yeah. Failure. That'll do it.

She squeezes his hand lightly, which brings him back to her. "You tried to be the hero?"

His lips twitch a little, and his eyes slip shut. "Perhaps."

"My lord," she says, voice lightly disapproving. Tenderly, she tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "Hollows?"

"Menos," he says, wheezing a little.

Her brows thread together. "Is there something—"

He shakes his head, his breaths coming easier. "No. Stay, though."

Hisana nods. "Oh. You thought you could get rid of me?" Her voice strikes the right amount of teasing that he grins.

"You are impertinent, true," he chides her.

"I think you fancy that particular feature of mine."

Byakuya chuckles and gives her a weak glance before his eyes slip shut.

He's exhausted, she thinks, absently stroking his head. Her fingers run across his scalp lightly, which appears to ease the tension from his face. After a few minutes, he seems to be asleep, and she stops.

"Don't," he says quietly. "Continue." His hand tightens around hers.

She should leave right now to allow him to rest, but.… She also knows what it's like to be sick and very much wanting not to be alone even as you sleep.

"My lord, you're tired," she protests, words gentle but firm.

"No. Stay just a while longer."

She obliges him and scoots the chair set against the wall to his bedside. Then, she takes his hand in hers again and continues to caress his head.

He closes his eyes, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. "Tell me about your kidou class."

"I didn't have a kidou class today. It was zanjutsu and hakuda. And, you know I'm terrible at both of those."

He chuckles lightly. "You could improve."

"You're not supposed to agree with me, my lord," she teases back, catching him peering at her under his dark lashes. Returning his gaze makes her feel terrible. She's keeping him from rest. He needs his rest. Desperately.

His grip on her hand tightens, and her stupid, traitorous heart forces her back into her seat.

"But, you asked for a story," she says with a sigh. She might as well give him one. "I actually won a skirmish today."

She didn't.

He doesn't know this, though.

He doesn't know that she barely participated today. She rarely tries, deciding it isn't fair to the other students. She's too much comparatively. She's far beyond their level, even if she is nowhere near his. But, this isn't something he will understand, having never attended the Academy.

What he doesn't know, however, won't kill him.

So, she decides to tell him a story of a time when she tried. It's a sad story, but he seems to be in a melancholic mood, laying there, brows slightly pulled together, faint lines running across his forehead, betraying his discomfort.

Part of her—the piece of her heart that can find the energy to sing—sings. Like a nightingale.

She tells him of the time when three noble boys were pummeling another student. She leaves off the reason (that he was from Rukongai). Instead, she tells the young lord that the boys were full of bloodlust, and, to protect the bludgeoned student, she took up her wooden sword and laid waste to them all.

This part is true.

When she finishes, Byakuya is fast asleep. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. His breathing is soft and free from wheezing. He also looks to be at peace.

"Lord Byakuya," she says softly.

He doesn't respond.

Hisana should go. Byakuya needs his rest. He doesn't need her worrying over him while he lays in his hospital bed.

The moment she draws back-her grip on his hand loosening-he catches her. "Don't," he says, voice a broken whisper. He watches her, eyes full of sleep. "Just a little while longer."

Hisana sags back down into the chair. The beeping and humming of machines are starting to pluck at her nerves. Glancing around the room, all she finds is sterile orderliness. Nothing is amiss. This also feels oppressive. Then, spotting an edition of The Seireitei Communication Monthly on the table next to her, inspiration hits like a bolt of lightning to the head, and she asks, "Would you like me to read to you?"

Byakuya gives her the slightest of nods.

Peeling back the cover, she flips through a few pages of advertisements—where to buy fine blades, where to find fine kimono, where to have your grip wrap replaced by the finest tradesman using only the finest materials—to find the table of contents. Nothing on the first page immediately strikes her as something that would interest Byakuya.

When she turns the page, pure, unbridled joy lights up her brain at what she sees. "Trains!" she says with a little more exuberance than intended.

Byakuya starts a little. His eyes open, and concern spreads across his face. "Trains?" he says the word as if it has a foreign taste in his mouth.

"Yes." Overcome by an immense swell of satisfaction, Hisana smiles up at him. It's a little weird just how happy this discovery makes her. "Trains!"

"What are trains?"

She blinks. "What?"

She blinks some more before it dawns on her that the little lord does not know the joy of trains. By the looks of him, he has never seen a train let alone seen one in action. How can that be? Especially, when she loves trains, a fact that she learned about herself right this very minute.

Cheerfully, she flips to the page indicated and shows him a picture. Apparently, Lieutenant Sasakibe is a huge fan of trains, and he created a miniature model of the London train system in a storage room of the First.

Judging by the size of the "storage room" depicted in the article, Hisana has some real doubts that the former purpose of this space was actually for storage. It looks to be the size of a conference room. But, the implication is a sweet one, she thinks. The Captain-Commander gave his subordinate a place to explore his passion.

And what a passion it is.

"Those are toys," declares Byakuya after one fleeting glance.

If he didn't look to be already on death's door, Hisana would slug him.

Instead, she loosens a heavy disapproving sigh. "These are miniature models of the real thing."

Squinting, she points at the size of the train and the size of one of the buildings. "It looks like they are to scale." Impressive. This must have taken the lieutenant years of work to get right.

"They are hideous," Byakuya asserts as if this opinion is settled fact.

Hisana gapes at him. Who even is this man? What are these tastes? How are they friends?

"What is their purpose?" he asks.

"First, you're wrong. They aren't hideous; they're magnificent! Second, their purpose is to connect people together, which is the noblest of purposes."

"They're used for transportation, then?"

She nods. "People, things, livestock."

With a little grunt, he adjusts his position on the bed so that he can better see the spread. "And they run along these, I take it." He points to the little wooden tracks.

"Yep. Those are the tracks. Wow." She squints a little harder. "Even those look to scale. Amazing."

"I also take it that these contraptions are all over the World of the Living?"

"Not all over from what I recall." Which isn't a whole lot. "But, I remember riding on one. A passenger train. It was so nice." What comes to her is more a feeling of luxury and less a visual memory, but it's no less potent, and she stares at the picture, vision going a little dreamy.

Hisana straightens a little in her seat before catching Byakuya peering at her from the corner of his eye. "You couldn't walk?" he asks.

"Walk?" She bristles. "Trains often go long distances and are much faster than walking or being pulled by oxen."

Turning the page, she points to one of the models showing the guts of a passenger car with plush seating and intricate interior craftsmanship. It looks wonderous. "And, they're far more comfortable than a rickshaw or palanquin, too."

When her gaze flicks back to Byakuya, his eyes are closed, but she can tell from the short breaths he takes that he is still awake. "Shall I read the article aloud? I bet the wise and venerable Lieutenant Sasakibe will convince you of the majesty of trains."

He chuckles a little at this. "Wise and venerable as he may be, the lieutenant has always had peculiar tastes."

"And by peculiar you mean he has great taste. The best taste. An eye for quality."

He grins. "Read the article, Hisana."

"As if you had a choice," she teases before starting.

Apparently, the effort of creating this miniature has taken the good lieutenant literal decades. He has crafted each piece, himself. Painted each piece, himself. And, the model is based on a collection of maps and pictures that he has acquired over the years. From where? Doesn't say. From whom? Also omitted. Hisana assumes these omissions are intentional. Maybe the lieutenant has some sort of interdimensional connection as a delegate to the Western Branch. Or, maybe, he sources these items from his expeditions to the World of the Living. Who can say?

It's all very charming, Hisana thinks.

When she stops reading, Byakuya appears to be asleep. His hand has gone limp against hers, and the breaths that he pulls are long and deep. There is a stillness to him that makes him look almost boyish.

He is young, she reminds herself.

Sometimes it's easy to forget this fact given that the timescale in Seireitei is so… weird…. Also, his permanent scowl and bladed glare make him look years beyond his actual age. Sleep, however, blunts his edge, leaving behind a boy finally free from a million competing expectations.

Hisana slips her hand from his and closes the magazine in her lap. "Good night, my lord," she whispers softly. Before she rises from her seat, a nurse crosses the threshold of the room and immediately startles.

"Who are you?" she demands, clasping her chest and drawing a sharp breath. "An orderly? Here? Out!"

For emphasis, the nurse jabs her finger in the direction of the door. "I will report you for daring to disturb his lordship." She squints to read Hisana's badge. "Hisana, get out of here at once!"

"I don't think that is necessary," enters a soft, almost maternal voice from behind the nurse.

The nurse's eyes widen so large that Hisana can see their whites. "Captain Unohana," she gasps. Immediately, the nurse bows. Once. Twice. Three times. "I didn't know—"

The captain raises her hand. "It's alright, Mrs. Azai. You just began your shift a few minutes ago. You couldn't have known that Miss Hisana is a friend of Lord Kuchiki."

"Your graciousness is much appreciated, Captain Unohana. Thank you."

"You may go. I had intended to check on the lord before I left for the evening."

"Thank you. Thank you, truly, Captain." The woman bows three more times and then scuttles out of the room.

Hisana stares. Mortified. She hates being trapped in a room, effectively alone, with a captain. Even captains with good reputations, like the one standing in the doorway, are monsters, she reminds herself.

Remembering herself, Hisana bows politely. "Apologies, Captain Unohana."

The captain shuts the door behind her.

Oh, no.

The captain gives Hisana an appraising look. "You're an academy student?"

She nods.

"And, it appears that you signed up to volunteer as an orderly."

Hisana nods again, this time pressing her lips together.

"And, you abandoned your post and entered a restricted patient area?"

More nodding.

"And, this went completely unnoticed by all the staff?"

Additional nodding.

"And, you violated all these rules to visit an ill friend?"

Hisana smiles pitifully.

The captain chuckles. "I should file a mile-long complaint against you, but…."

"But?" Hisana's brows lift, urging the captain to continue with a hopeful look.

"But, I can't."

"Can't?"

The captain shakes her head. "The tenets of patient care prevent me from doing so."

Hisana blinks. "Tenets?"

There are tenets of patient care? Further, these tenets outrank those of the laws and rules of the Academy and Gotei 13? Color her surprised.

"Yes," says the captain. "Lord Kuchiki is very ill, and, until today, he seemed to be in very bad spirits."

"What happened today?"

"He received a visitor. A proper visitor. One who helped ease those very bad spirits."

The blood rushes to Hisana's cheeks, setting them on fire.

"A good deal of recovery and physical resilience relies on social and emotional wellness factors." The captain tilts her head to the side as she considers Hisana. "Punishing you for your flagrant flouting of the rules might deter you. Although, probably not, seeing as you likely realized you were breaking all those rules by coming here and you did so anyway. However, punishing you would absolutely hurt the quality of care given to Lord Kuchiki."

"So, we're good?" Hisana plasters a tense smile on her face, but her entire body braces.

The captain laughs. "Sort of."

Oh, here comes the ask.

"I'll let you off the hook this time, but you'll need to actually put in a few volunteer hours."

Hisana nods her understanding. "Yes, Captain."

"These hours will be in addition to your vising Lord Kuchiki."

"I can visit him?" she asks, trying and failing to keep the hopefulness from her voice.

The captain smiles. "Of course. I will have an access badge to this floor ready for you when you come to begin your actual volunteer hours tomorrow."

"Thank you, Captain." Hisana gives a deep bow.

"Oh, and, Hisana," calls the captain before Hisana can flee into the hall.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Lord Kuchiki is not fully aware of his father's condition." A somber note plays in the captain's voice. "Please keep anything you learn about Lieutenant Kuchiki confidential… for Byakuya's sake."

Hisana lowers her head. "Understood, Captain."


Per the good captain's orders, Hisana diligently adds volunteering to her list of "Shit I'd Rather Not Do But Here We Are." It isn't so bad she thinks by day six. Or rather, it's not bad when she gets to practice kaidō, as opposed to fetching bandages and salves and stocking supplies. Most of her tasks, however, consist of fetching bandages and salves and stocking supplies.

Her least favorite part of the job, though, is wearing the ridiculous uniform, which consists of a goofy ass hat and a pink pinstripe kimono that is oddly short and somehow profanely suggestive despite not showing any skin. It is also incredibly uncomfortable and scratchy.

If someone told Hisana that Captain Kyōraku designed these kimono himself, she would believe them. No questions asked.

The worst part of the uniform, however, isn't feeling like an absolute dunce when wearing it—which is exactly how Hisana feels every time that she does so—it's the attention the uniform attracts from a certain vintage of male patients. Hisana has no patience for this attention. None at all.

Fortunately, it's a rare enough occurrence, which is probably because the patients that she's allowed anywhere near are largely other students with a few unseated officers in the mix. The other volunteers, too, are mostly other students, with a few young noble children who are eager to get a letter of recommendation to add to their Academy application.

Most, if not all, of the Academy students who volunteer are interested in serving at the Fourth, and the students are largely kind and considerate individuals. The pre-Academy kids, however, are pure fucking evil. Hisana would rather dive off a cliff into lava than deal with the overweening ambitions of a child vying for a pat on the head by someone they deem worthy.

And, yet, she does all of this—the uniform, the comments about the uniform, the tedious fetch quests, dealing with the noble hellspawn-to get to her objective at the end of the day, which is to see Byakuya. Byakuya, however, is usually unconscious when her clinic hours end. Not that he should be awake. He needs his rest. Even now, after nearly a week of intense treatment, he's wrapped in bandages and hooked to machines. There are fewer machines, though, which suggests improvement.

His reiatsu continues to feel thready. An observation she makes as she approaches his bedside.

As is custom, she takes his hand and sits quietly in the chair next to his bed. Slung over her shoulder is a bag full of things. Magazines and books, mostly. Sometimes she includes a few food items, specifically spicy, terrible snacks that she hates but somehow always seems to inherit because Tsuna is under the impression that just because Hisana will accept spicy food means that she likes it.

Also, per custom, Hisana fishes inside the bag and grabs ahold of the books and magazines that she brought for him tonight. She then sets them on the floor by the little table near his bed. Just as her hand is about to slide away from his so that she can package up the previous day's offerings, he catches her and doesn't let go.

She turns to him with a jolt, a little taken aback to find him returning her gaze. "My lord."

"Hisana," he says, voice a little strained.

"Did you find the wasabi-flavored nuts I brought you? They were from the World of the Living."

He chuckles. "I did."

"Weren't they terrible?" She scrunches up her nose.

"They truly were."

She chortles. "Did Captain Unohana find out?"

He shakes his head.

"Good! I know she says that you should only eat bland foods, but…." She pauses to give him an empathetic look. "You've been here for almost two weeks fighting for your life on rice porridge. If that doesn't pluck the light straight out of your eyes, I don't know what else would."

He grins. "What culinary nightmare did you choose today?"

Hisana bends over and grabs a little bag that she hid behind one of the books. "Chili-flavored crisps. I stole these off some officer's desk at the Eighth."

This is a lie.

She did obtain them from an officer of the Eighth, though. The officer in question was Lieutenant Ise, and Hisana didn't so much steal it as she asked for the lieutenant to bring back some truly obnoxiously spicy snack from the World of the Living as payment for that day.

The lieutenant delivered.

"Delightful."

"Want to try one?" She lifts a brow in challenge. "They're apparently very spicy."

He gives a mild shake of his head, eyes looking very weak. "Perhaps later."

Her stomach clenches into a fist at this, and she draws closer. Tenderly, she presses the back of her hand against his head. Cool. That's good, she thinks.

"I'm feeling better," he says, clearly reading the worry lines right off her face.

"You don't look better."

"They stopped the blood transfusions."

Her brows pull together. Well, at least they found and repaired the bleed. Finally. Yikes. "Is there's anything I can—"

"What did you bring me to read?"

He doesn't want her concern. She gets that. She does. But….

Hisana glances down at the little pile of books. "Just some random stuff I found lying around."

Another lie.

He follows the line of her gaze. "You find many early editions of Dream of the Red Chamber lying around the Academy?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "It's a very erudite group of students."

The book is actually a contribution from Captain Kyōraku, who immediately ascertained the reason behind her request for a spicy snack as payment for her services. Hisana thinks the lieutenant did as well, but Lieutenant Ise is far more discreet about her assumptions than the captain.

"It was that or a bound copy of the first one hundred chapters of A Rose-Colored Path."

The barest hint of a grin thins his lips. "Good choice."

"I thought you might like this if you get bored." She leans over to slip a thin pamphlet out of the stack. "It's a magic square game that the Twelfth circulates. The rules are on the front page. Seems frustrating so, naturally, I thought of you," she teases him.

"You found this lying around, too?"

Not missing a beat, Hisana smiles and says, "Yep. In the meal hall. Just sitting there abandoned."

"Whoever abandoned it was also thoughtful enough to leave it blank."

She nods. "How very kind of them."

What Hisana has been able to piece together is that Captains Kyōraku and Ukitake took up a collection. At least, that's what it felt like when she arrived at the squad after class. Instead of just a spicy snack for payment, she received the snack and a mountain of literature. Books. Newspapers. Magazines. Pamphlets. Puzzles. She didn't question it. She was just grateful for the support.

His face tenses as if he is bracing against a wave of pain.

"Should I—" she begins, but he cuts her off with a shake of the head.

"No. It's fine."

"It doesn't look fine." Her eyes narrow as she searches him.

"It's getting better," he says, voice fraying at the ends.

She doesn't believe him so she leaves to fetch a nurse. When she finds one, she pauses outside the door, thinking it might be kind to offer Byakuya privacy at this moment. The nurse enters, shuts the door, and all Hisana hears is the melody of the woman's voice but none of the words.

For a long moment, Hisana flirts with the idea of leaving, a flirtation that becomes stronger with each passing second. If there's an actual problem, he likely will not be feeling well enough for company, she reasons.

But….

If she goes now, he might get the wrong impression. Byakuya is awfully alone right now. Not once has Hisana run into anyone else during any of her visits. She thinks it may be because she only comes at night. Maybe he receives more visitors during the day.

Rubbing her arms for warmth against the chill that the alternative possibility brings her, Hisana steps away from the door and toward the wall of glass where she last saw the Lord Lieutenant. Her heart gives a hard squeeze as she braces to see him again.

When she does, her shoulders drop, and she frowns. He is still intubated and shackled to a dozen machines. From the little medical knowledge that she has managed to absorb over the last few days, none of the numbers that flash on the machines looks great in terms of vital signs.

She stands there staring into the room for a long while. The mechanical beeps and hisses begin to sound less alien and more comforting, now. She hears them often enough. And, hey, if the machines are still keeping a steady beat, the patient isn't crashing so…. That's not nothing.

It's not great either, she knows.

"Miss Hisana?"

She jumps a little at the sound of her name and twists around to find Captain Unohana standing behind her. "Lord Kuchiki is asking for you."

"Is he—"

The captain turns to escort her down the hall. "Thank you for trusting your instincts and summoning the nurse. One of his stitches failed, but it is now repaired."

"Of course, Captain. Is he—"

"He's doing much better. Probably only a few more days before we discharge him."

"Days?" Byakuya looks like he could use a few more months there.

The captain chuckles under her breath. "He will continue to receive care at home."

"Oh."

"I take it that you're not welcome at the Kuchiki manor."

Hisana clenches her jaw. "Not particularly."

"That's unfortunate, then."

Hisana frowns.

"He should start feeling himself in a few weeks. Once we get over this little hump, the patients generally improve by leaps and bounds relatively quickly." The captain stops at Byakuya's door.

"Thank you, Captain." Hisana gives a low bow and waits until the captain steps away.

When Hisana enters the room, Byakuya perks up a little. An expression of genuine relief eases the tension from his face.

He still looks bad, though. Pale. Dark circles. His gaze is now cloudy from drowsiness and strong medicine.

"You look tired," she says. "Shall I—"

"I am awake," he protests and offers his hand.

Drawing to his side, she takes it and sits down. "Is there anything I-"

"No. I am content."

"My lord," she says, a note of disapproval in her voice.

"Captain Unohana said you've come every day."

"I have." She cocks her head, eyes searching him.

A faint smile tugs at his lips, and he rests his eyes. "What are you reading for class?" he asks, voice distant.

"The theoretical underpinnings of seals."

"How interesting."

"It is not. I assure you. When I opted to take Kidou 304: How to Bob and Weave, I really thought there would be more practical components."

"Theory is important," he says. "It informs the user about the spell's strengths and limitations."

"Well, that may be the case, but this book must have been written a millennia ago. The prose is positively incomprehensible."

"Read it to me."

She grins. "Okay. You asked for it. Prepared to die of boredom."

Hisana makes it about halfway down the page before Byakuya is fast asleep. She considers leaving right then, but, the moment she tries to pull away, his hand squeezes hers tighter.

It's a reflex, she thinks. There is no way that he is awake. But... If he is capable of reacting to her touch, he will probably rouse when she goes to leave, which will restart this whole process over. Might as well wait a little longer until a deeper sleep sets in.

So, she proceeds to read from her kidou book until the oblivion of slumber comes for her, too.


When her brain begins to pull from the silken darkness of unconscious, it doesn't breach the surface of reality all at once. Parts of her sense the world outside of dreams. She feels a strand of muscle spark with pain from the awkward way that she is seated. She feels the sunlight from the nearby window on her cheeks. She feels Byakuya's warm hand against her own.

The rest of her, however, feels submerged in the inky comfort of nothingness. The unrealness of this nothingness shifts and changes forms anytime she tries to examine it. It can taste like the sweet tartness of a ripe lychee. It can smell like the sweet wildness of plum blossoms in early spring. It can feel like the warm brush of lips against the back of her hand. It can sound like a whispered confession of love in the dark.

At this last sensation, her eyes open and her breath catches a little in her chest. The shades and contours of the room come into focus after a few blinks. She's at the Coordinated Relief Station, not tucked into bed at the dorm. Watching her with a cautious stare is Byakuya Kuchiki. His hand is indeed wrapped around hers, and she gives a light squeeze before dragging her gaze to his face.

His cheeks have some color now, and he is sitting up, back pressed against a mound of pillows.

Shifting her weight in her seat, she straightens and glances through the window. Golden threads of sunlight pierce the clouds and turn the sky a pretty shade of lavender. She should be going. She has a class in the morning, and he needs his rest.

With a disapproving shake of the head, she asks, "How long have you been up?"

He watches her intently as he laces his fingers with hers. "Just a little while now."

"You should be resting."

"I've rested long enough."

"Shall I fetch you a mirror?"

He grins at this. "You sound like Seike."

"Seike is a good man. You should listen to him more."

Byakuya is looking to be in better spirits, though. The light has returned to his eyes again, and he is sitting up. Up-ish.

"Captain Unohana says I will be discharged soon."

"I heard," says Hisana, voice sharp, ready to counter the prevarication she knows will come if she doesn't say something. "The captain also said that you will be discharged to further recovery at home, not discharged to do as you please."

His grin lengthens for an instant. Then, his face shutters at whatever thought strikes him next. The little flush in his cheeks disappears, and the light that once gleamed in his gray eyes dims.

Hisana thinks Byakuya is realizing that she won't be able to visit him while he recovers at the estate. But, maybe not. Perhaps he's thinking about something else like his father, or his grandfather, or maybe the pain from all his injuries is burdening him again.

"I'll still wait for you, though. Captain Unohana said your home recovery time will be short," she says, just in case.

He squeezes her hand. It's gratitude—unspoken gratitude—but, hey, she's not picky. She'll take what she can get.

"If I happen to bump into Seike in the meanwhile, I will have provisions."

"Provisions?" Amusement plays in the notes of his voice. "Do you mean like those ghastly crackers you brought me last night?"

Her eyes widen, and her heart jumps.

Did he really eat those terrible things?

With a jerk, she turns to the nightstand to find the snack bag completely empty.

"Ghastly?" she crows, picking up the bag and waving it in the air. "Couldn't have been too ghastly seeing as you devoured them all!"

His brows rise as does his head, and he closes his eyes. "It was the only food available," he says in a tone so haughty that it makes her laugh.

Relief is funny that way.

Normally, she would fire back at him, but, right then, she's happy to hear the familiar intonations of unbridled arrogance return to his voice. She'll take it. She'll take all of it.

When her fit of laughter quietens, she opens her eyes and looks at him with only fondness in her heart.

His face has gone blank.

Not a trace of emotion.

She stares back at him, not understanding.

"Thank you," he says, gazing deeply into her eyes.

Hisana shakes her head. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." Somberness flickers across his face as if maybe he thinks that he isn't worth these small efforts. "You didn't have to trouble yourself—"

"You're right, my lord. I don't have to do anything. But, I made a choice. I chose you every night this week, and I have chosen you many nights before even that." She pauses, hand tightening around his. "But, you have a choice, too. Maybe not now," she adds wryly, glancing at the monitors keeping him tied to the room, "but before now. Every time we met at the bridge, you chose me as well."

Love is a choice, she thinks.

And, they have chosen each other time and again without rhyme or reason and despite a great many things trying to steal that choice away from them.

"For that, I am grateful, Lord Byakuya," she says finally.

He takes her hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. "Hisana."

For a long while they sit together, lost in the peace they find in the other's presence. It is only when Byakuya begins to fade that Hisana stands and begins to collect her things.

"Tonight?" he asks, looking up at her through heavily lidded eyes.

Slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder, she leans down and kisses him on the brow. "Tonight."


When Hisana finishes her duties at the Fourth, she breezes into The Pavilion, which is odd. Since her infiltration, additional security measures have been implemented in the unit. One look, however, reveals that the entrance has been abandoned.

No guard.

No receptionist.

No one.

This cannot be good, she thinks.

Suddenly feeling very wary, Hisana takes a few measured steps forward, eyes trained on the corner mirror set on the wall in front of her. Nothing.

Dread enters her as she continues, keeping her weight light on her feet.

Silence.

The Pavilion is never bustling—a benefit of serving only the highest of the highborn—but it's never this dead, either. Which can only mean….

Reaching the ceiling-to-floor glass of the ICU room, Hisana stops to find it empty.

Before she can react, she finally hears it.

She hears the chaos of an emergency. The sounds of voices and machines are faint, but she knows. The ice in her blood tells her.

Lieutenant Kuchiki….

Immediately, she picks up the pace toward Byakuya's room. She's not supposed to tell him anything so it's good that she doesn't actually know anything.

She wants to say something, though.

When she opens the door to his room, she finds him quietly working through one of the magic square puzzles in bed. He looks completely unaware of the turmoil taking place only a few halls away.

Captain Unohana was right, Hisana decides.

What good would come of her divulging her nagging suspicions? Nothing. It would only serve to make her feel better. To ease her mind. There's nothing he can do with that information besides worry and fret, or, worse, feel guilty for whatever happened.

"Hisana," he greets her. There is an easiness to his expression, one that makes her feel terrible. He sets the book to the side. "What amusements have you brought in your satchel today?"

Her smile eases into something a little more natural at this question. "Well, it's a real assortment of materials that I found lying around the Academy." Sitting down, she slips the strap from her shoulder and opens the bag. "We've got everything. A collection of poetry," she says, flashing a rather old, heavy book. Plucking out the next book, she says, "We also have a casebook containing annotated opinions that explain the plain meaning behind key precedential decisions issued by the Chambers over the last century."

Byakuya takes this book from her, keen to scrutinize the binding and title. "How generous of officers from the Ninth to leave their internal guidance materials at the Academy."

"Captain Tōsen teaches a class on interpretative analysis," she says and gives a little shrug. "I bet this is the book they use!"

Byakuya's eyes narrow, raw skepticism radiating from his stare. Without warning, he reaches into her bag and plucks out a magazine entitled Craft Railroader. "Is Lieutenant Sasakibe also teaching a class on miniatures?"

She presses her lips together, hoping to seal up the chuckle burning in her chest. "How did you guess?"

"Hisana."

"What?" She grins, all too aware that he is on to her. "I attend a lot of clubs to get free food."

"Do you mean to tell me that there is a miniature railroader club?"

"Sure." She bites her lip. "Why not?"

"You are incorrigible."

Chortling, she pulls out a little bag of snacks. "I brought you these, too."

He makes a face. "What is that?"

"Rice crackers. Spicy rice crackers. I think they have peas inside. They're not half bad." She opens the translucent bag. "Want to try?"

Byakuya glances down, the lines of his face deepening. "It smells terrible."

"I know. But, if you can get past the smell and taste, it's pretty okay."

He stares at her, completely dumbfounded. "If one must overcome both the smell and flavor, Miss Hisana, then what precisely is the point of eating the snack?"

"I mean. You have to overcome it initially. The heat of the chili flavoring melts your tastebuds, which makes eating it easier."

His mouth opens as if he means to question her logic, but nothing comes out.

She may have just broken his brain with that one. "Just try a few."

He shakes his head. "After hearing that glowing recommendation, I'd rather not."

"Fine," she sighs, "I'll leave them here, though." Hisana tucks them behind the leg of his bedside table. "Just in case. Maybe your opinion of the snack will improve once you realize it's either this or your millionth bowl of bland rice porridge."

"Did you bring another puzzle book?" he asks.

"I knew you'd like it!" she crows. "And, yes." It takes her a minute to fish the thin pamphlet from the bag. "This one is from last month."

"Have you played before?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "I think I got to the second rule before my brain lost interest."

"I could show you," he says, a hopeful look on his face.

As much as she'd love to tell him, 'hell no,' the floaty feeling that starts in her belly spreads to her head and turns her brain to mush. "Sure," she says instead like a fucking idiot.

Her chair is situated too low for her to conveniently see much easily, so she stands and glances down at the half-completed magic square. While she realizes that she should probably be listening to his explanation, the feeling of great relief at seeing him feeling better overwhelms her. All the signs of improvement are there. The ghostly pallor is gone. His eyes shine bright. His gaze is strong and focused.

"Would you like to try?" he asks, gazing up at her with a boyish hopefulness that almost pains her to see. Especially since she hasn't a clue what the hell he was just saying.

"You lost me when you said there was an equation involved," she teases him.

His eyelids lower, and his lips slant into a frown. "Hisana."

She grins down at him. "You look like you're feeling better, my lord."

He nods. "I am." His gaze lands on her lips, and he lifts his head slightly. Before she can react, he pulls her down into a kiss.

It starts slow and gentle, but it ends with her whole body feeling like an exposed nerve. Pulling away, she can't resist pressing one final kiss to his forehead before straightening her back.

She gives his shoulder a light squeeze. "I was worried about you."

He places his hand over hers, eyes soft, gaze tender. Before he can respond, the door opens. A blast of air rushes into the room, forcing their attention to the individual crossing the threshold.

It's the Lord Captain. Taking only a stride into the room, he stops short. If he is displeased with what he finds, Hisana can't tell. He wields impassivity like the captain of the Eleventh wields a sword, ruthlessly and effectively.

"I require a moment with my grandson."

Hisana bows, low and deep. "Yes, Captain." She glances over her shoulder and bows her head to Byakuya. "Good evening, my lord."

Ice water slushes through her veins as she crosses the floor to the door. Once outside the room, she shudders, legs feeling wobbly, and stomach clenching. She knows. She knows. She knows.

The Lord Lieutenant has passed.

A fact that is seemingly confirmed when she steps into the corridor toward the nurses' station. All the emptiness that she experienced upon arrival is gone, replaced with nurses, assistants, and physicians who exchange dark words and sorrowful glances.

The energy on the unit is charged, but the static that carries in the air is one of defeat. Some of the nurses are tearful. A few are trying hard to quiet their cries. Captain Unohana is convening with her lieutenant, both of whom wear grave expressions.

Hisana leaves with her head hung low and her heart aching.