Year Four: Autumn
Hisana hates autumn. It means the start of a new cycle at the Academy, which theoretically should be a good thing since she's that much closer to not being there. Unfortunately, this time also brings with it myriad social engagements. Unlike the spring events, which are garden parties held outside, the autumn socials are confined affairs hosted in cramped spaces where socialization is far more inevitable and far less escapable.
Hisana finds the prospect of socializing with her peers to be unappealing on a molecular level. Maybe if she actually wanted to be at the Academy, it would be a different story. But, probably not, given the constitution of the student body.
There was a reason she dropped out all those years ago….
"You should come!" whines Tsuna.
And, so, begins another autumn ritual: Rejecting her well-meaning roommate's offers to come to every single Academy event for three months straight.
Hisana sits propped up against the headboard of her bed, book in hand, and frowns.
"C'mon, Hisana! This will be the fun one. A lot of handsome high lords!" Tsuna wags her brows for emphasis.
"I have nothing to wear."
"Here!" Tsuna tosses a kimono her way.
The garment lands like a blanket over Hisana's head, and she sighs. Heartily. The fabric is silk. Judging by its weight and how the midday light shimmers through its threads, it's expensive, too.
"I don't think this will work," says Hisana, letting the kimono slide off her and pool onto the bed.
"What do you mean? It's nice! Out of season, maybe, but it'll do the trick."
"The students will think poorly of me for wearing silks this nice."
"I don't think people will think of you at all," says Tsuna.
Hisana tilts her head to the side, letting that observation roll around for a moment.
"Sorry!" chirps Tsuna. "I didn't mean for that to come out so harsh."
Tsuna is right. It's not that the nobles really care about Hisana specifically. They don't care about any of the Rukon students. When the nobles make those fake pitying comments about how silly the "peasants" look when they dress above their means, they do so out of boredom. With no social capital, the Rukon students are easy targets for casual cruelty, which happens to be a fun little diversion for the nobles.
"Thanks, but no thanks."
"C'mon! You'll have a good time." Tsuna turns to the mirror braced against a wall on her side of the room, where she proceeds to flutter between multiple poses like a preening waterfowl.
"I liked the one with the peonies better," says Hisana, gaze skimming the top of her book.
"Really?" Tsuna beams. "Well, then, it's done. I'll wear the peonies." She flings the crane robes into the air, not seeming the least bit perturbed when the priceless silks puddle at her feet.
"Come tonight!" Tsuna continues. "I promise that we'll be done before your nightly walks." The last two words land scandalously.
Hisana goes back to reading her book.
"Who are you seeing, Hisana?"
"No one."
"Then, why are you so passionate about taking those walks?"
Hisana turns the page. "My passion is cardiovascular health."
"Could it be," Tsuna tries again, slinking down conspiratorially as if she is about to blurt out a juicy bit of gossip, "that you're the one seeing Byakuya Kuchiki?"
Hisana chokes on her own spit. "What?"
"You're blushing!"
"Is that what people are saying?"
Tsuna's eyes gleam with intrigue. "Is it true?"
"No. But, do people think that?" Because if they do, then, holy shit is that a problem.
"Rumor is that he is seeing an Academy girl. A mysterious Academy girl. You're the most mysterious girl I know."
"You need to get out more," chides Hisana under her breath. "But, who do they think the mystery girl is?"
Tsuna goes to her bed, kneels down, and fishes out a copy of The Seireitei Communication Monthly from under the mattress. She then flips to a story in the middle of the magazine and offers it to Hisana. "Unclear."
Hisana frowns as she takes The Monthly in hand. Without looking, she already knows that it's the Society Section. It's always the damn Society Section. The Ninth needs a life.
All of them need a life.
The next breath—sharper than the last—goes down Hisana's throat like a dagger, cutting all the way to her heart when she reads the headline, "Lord Byakuya Kuchiki Has Passionate Romance with Academy Girl." The article declares that Byakuya Kuchiki is "ardently pursuing" a student, which apparently "has caused widespread alarm and mayhem among families of the nobility," including "having fueled several rows among members of House Kuchiki." The next page goes on to "report" that "Lord Kuchiki's whirlwind romance is getting hot and heavy," and the Kuchiki family "has serious concerns that the young lord will formally consummate the relationship without the requisite familial approval by utilizing an administrative loophole."
On that damning note, the "article" concludes with a grainy black-and-white photo that looks to have been taken at night with Byakuya standing next to… sort of… if you squint… a girl wearing an Academy uniform. All that's shown of the girl is the back of her head, but she has the same girl-like dimensions as Hisana: petite and thin with shoulder-length dark hair. She also wore her Academy uniform at night, which is the kind of shit only Rukon peasants do.
Since Hisana is one of only four Rukon girls currently enrolled in the Academy and the only one of them who doesn't own an array of "off-duty" kimono, the evidence isn't great for her, but it's not conclusive, either. There is nothing in the picture suggesting that Byakuya and the faceless Academy girl are "passionately entangled" apart from physical proximity. The physical proximity also isn't much. Byakuya isn't even looking at her.
"Not exactly award-winning photojournalism," grouses Hisana, grit in her voice.
"You're so tense." Tsuna's mouth curves into an impish grin. "Do you have a crush on him?"
Hisana pauses. Her knee-jerk reaction is to deny, deny, deny. But… if she admits to liking him—a fact to which she suspects many of the women her age would own—what's the damage? It would be less weird than the alternative, which looks damning in its own right.
So, Hisana flirts with the truth in the only way she knows how: With calculated dispassion. "Sure. He's rich and handsome. What's not to like?"
Tsuna's grin widens to a smile. "Yes!" she trills and perches on the corner of Hisana's bed. "Me, too. He's so pretty. And my parents would be thrilled."
Maybe this confession was a mistake.
"There's a club," says Tsuna.
Oh, no.
"A fan club."
What has she done?
Hisana blinks. "For Byakuya Kuchiki?"
Tsuna nods emphatically. "We meet every Thursday after class."
Hisana feels an invitation forthcoming, one that she does not want any part of.
"You should come!"
There it is.
"What, exactly, does one do at a Byakuya Kuchiki fan club?" asks Hisana.
"Lots of things! I'm the secretary, so I take the minutes—"
"Minutes of what?"
"Our meetings, silly! Miyo is the president. Ayame is—"
"Ayame?" Hisana blinks. "Is this the fan club that you two have been a part of since we were First Years?"
"Of course! She's the vice president. And Kiku is the treasurer."
"What do you need a treasurer for?"
"Oh, we have snacks and drinks every meeting. We all donate upon signing up and then have annual dues. Don't worry. You can be an honorary member so you don't have to pay."
Hisana stares at Tsuna in slack-jawed horror.
They have tiered membership for this thing? What in the ever-loving hell…. "What do you all do at the meetings?" asks Hisana.
"Gossip. Read articles about him. Moon over pictures. It's actually a pretty well-connected group of students. Our current fundraiser-"
"You have fundraisers?"
For what?
"Yes," says Tsuna, her voice edging on exasperation. "As I was saying, our current fundraiser is to shore up money for the Shinigami Women's Association to make a calendar with pictures of him. All the proceeds from the calendar would go to charity."
"There's a fundraiser for a fundraiser?" Hisana's head hurts.
Tsuna glances up and to the side. "I guess so. Will you come this week?"
"Absolutely not."
"C'mon, Hisana! If you don't go to the event tonight, you must, must, must come to the club meeting. Please."
Hisana keeps thinking if she shoots down Tsuna enough times that Tsuna will stop offering. It's year four and still… this….
"Please, Hisana." Tsuna bats her large, soulful eyes.
Hisana would rather be dissolved in a vat of acid than go to a Byakuya Kuchiki fan club. "Fine. I'll go to the event tonight." She sighs. Heavily.
Hisana wears her Academy uniform to the event because that's what is expected of her. It's a bad idea. Terrible, actually. She hates it.
But, here she is, making a vague sort of effort.
The party is held in the backroom of one of the kidou dojos. The space has been lit and decorated to invoke the sea with white sheets folded and pinned to resemble waves. Heavy blue lights create a floaty, dark ambiance reminiscent of how sunlight filters through the shadows of waves on the ocean floor. Hisana can't tell if the blue lights are some newfangled invention from the World of the Living or a clever use of kidou.
As Hisana and Tsuna push their way through a throng of students, anxiety gnaws at Hisana's innards with each step. Her pulse flutters in her neck and pounds in her ears, eclipsing the sounds of live shamisen music in the background. She thinks it's a mixture of having too many students packed into such a small space and the theme.
Indeed, the theme.
The party feels sunken, drowned.
As Hisana weaves between several parties of students, it's starting to get harder to breathe.
"This way!" says Tsuna before yanking Hisana into a less densely populated corner of the room, where Hisana finally catches her breath. Her nerves crackle and pop under her skin, and she grips the edge of a nearby table to center herself.
Tsuna throws her arm back in a big wave when she sees Miyo, who stands awkwardly sipping from a cup of sake. "It's very pretty, Miyo."
Miyo smiles politely. "You came!" The two girls hug briefly.
Taking a few cleansing breaths, Hisana half-listens to the noblewomen speculating as to who the Kuchiki Mystery Girl might be. She doesn't like this development, either. Why did she come here, again?
It doesn't matter, she convinces herself. She's here now. Better make the best of it. And, with that grim reminder, Hisana surveys the area. Clusters of students stand about chatting. A few students appear to be trying to out-drink each other at a distant table.
Spotting the area where two students are handing out sake, Hisana glances over at Tsuna and Miyo and asks, "Drinks?"
Tsuna nods, and Miyo indicates that her cup remains mostly full.
Once drinks are acquired, Hisana orbits Tsuna loosely as she gabs about other nobles with Miyo. Then, Ayame arrives. Hisana frowns into her cup as both Tsuna and Miyo sing their greetings to the noblewoman.
"Rare to see you outside of the dorm, Hisana," notes Ayame with a smirk. "Were you cleaning the dojos or something and decided to stay?"
"I invited her." Tsuna narrows her eyes at Ayame. "She's interested in the Kuchiki fan club."
"I'm absolutely not inter—"
Ayame, however, is quick to interrupt Hisana, "The enrollment period for new club members isn't until spring."
"Did you see the new article?" asks Miyo, grinning wide.
Ayame takes a sip of sake and puckers. "I did."
"Who do you think the girl is?"
"No one."
"No one!" huffs Miyo.
"No one, really?" echoes Tsuna.
"Yeah, the proof was what? A dark blurry picture. Plus, the girl would have to be a peasant to wear her uniform at night. No way someone of his stature cavorts with peasant Academy students."
"What do you think, Hisana?" asks Miyo hopefully.
"I agree with Ayame. It looked like some enterprising member of the Ninth took advantage of a chance encounter. Must've been a slow news cycle," replies Hisana.
"I think the Ninth is sore that Lord Kuchiki didn't marry Tomoe," adds Miyo.
Hisana's brows raise at Miyo's familiar use of "Tomoe," but she hides her interest behind a well-timed tip of her cup.
"Remember that mess?" Miyo murmurs. "Poor Tsuna." She reaches out and pats Tsuna on the shoulder.
Tsuna, in turn, glances at Hisana with the warning and intensity of a lightning strike. Hisana presses her lips together and lifts her drink as if to say, 'I'll keep my damned mouth shut, got it!'
"Yep," hums Tsuna on a shaky breath. "I was so surprised when your cousin actually made good on her word and replaced the kimono."
"Of course, she did! Tomoe is a real gem," says Miyo.
No wonder Hisana doesn't like Miyo.
And, with this thought, she jumps ship.
Hisana finds it easy enough to recede into the current of students. She returns to the drink table and grabs another cup of sake. From there, becoming a ghost comes second nature. Unseen, but seeing. With her reiatsu coiled tightly to her body, she is small and slim enough to slip through most gaps in the sea of bodies unnoticed. It reminds her of her non-Academy days when she used to scope out a target for a job.
Hisana finds a corner that is a small distance from the closest gaggle of students. With one shoulder braced against the wall, the line of her body draws a lazy slant. Her hips are cocked, her arms are folded against her chest, and she looks on.
"Twenty-one!" a group of boys exclaims. "Let's play. Who's in?"
Five hands shoot up.
Gambling is an expellable offense at the Academy, and it's illegal in Seireitei if "unsanctioned." All of this, however, is a fancy way of saying that it's only a crime for the peasantry. Judging by the tailoring and quality of these boys' silks, they're all nobles. Probably high lords since they have cash to burn. High lords, especially, are never cautioned when they break the rules. The system protects them: No one will snitch for fear of reprisals, and no Academy master is going to throw them out by their ear because of who their parents are and, likely, the sheer amount of paperwork involved.
How boring, Hisana thinks.
Her gaze then trails to a group of students who are talking adamantly about textiles from the World of the Living. A redheaded girl clutches a magazine to her chest like it's her most prized possession. Another girl models the cerulean sash tied around her waist to the approval of her peers.
Next to them stands a handful of boys. Several of them appear to be trying to hype up a member of their group to speak to one of the girls nearby. This display holds Hisana a beat longer than it should because she's curious as to which boy and which girl are involved and the results.
"Hey, Rukongai!"
Hisana scowls into her drink. She suspects this call is aimed at her. She's only seen one other student dressed in their Academy uniform, and he hasn't wandered by in a while.
"Rukon," the boy tries again.
Rolling her eyes, Hisana exhales a heavy breath. When her gaze returns to center, there he is. In her face. He even dares to loom over her, hand splayed above her shoulder, his body close enough to feel the heat radiating off his silks.
"You look like a girl who knows a thing or two about cards," he says with a crooked smile.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Hisana turns her head to the side, cheek to him, and stares into the hazy blue of the room. Five other boys are watching them. She doesn't recognize a single one. They appear to be older. Probably Sixth Years.
"I'll make it worth your time," he says and, looping his finger under her chin, nudges her face back to him.
She continues to glare off to the side. "No."
"Two hundred thousand kan."
"You can play cards as the dealer," she argues.
Why pester her over this? Are they too lazy to worry over the rules each hand or something? Is there some esoteric rule that the only students who get expelled for card games are the ones doing the dealing? Hisana wouldn't doubt it. The Academy Masters probably fingerprint the cards and pin everything on the person with the most prints per card or something ridiculous.
"Three hundred thousand kan."
She shakes her head.
"Five hundred thousand kan."
Hisana tenses.
Dammit.
She needs the money.
"Fine." The roiling of acid in her stomach tells her that she's going to regret this decision. "Two hundred fifty thousand up front."
"Deal." He grins. "My name is Tetsunosuke Kawada," he says and begins counting out the kan.
The weight feels right when she pockets it. Grimly, she straightens and pushes off the wall, ready to follow the other boys who set off the moment they saw money trade hands. Kawada, however, stares at her like he's waiting for something.
Hisana frowns. "What is it?"
"This is usually the part where you give me your name," he says and brandishes what she assumes is supposed to be a charming smile.
Her frown deepens. "That costs extra."
"You're a weird one, eh?"
Hisana ignores him as she weaves through the crowd, unease bubbling in her gut. This unease turns to panic when Kawada pushes her into a nook that's half walled off by gaudy golden partitions of lions attacking one another. The five boys that she followed are scrounging around for sitting mats. The boy dressed in red silks finds one and tosses it her way.
Stiffly, Hisana finds a seat facing the unwalled section of the nook. Kawada takes a place at her side, and he studies her with heated intensity. It's as if he recognizes her but is puzzling through the how and where.
Hisana, however, doesn't remember him at all. This needles her until her gaze drops to the boy's hand. A tattoo of a tiger starts in the middle of it and extends past his sleeve.
Just like….
Her eyes widen. There's no mistaking him, now. He has the same smirking grin, the same short brown hair, the same stupid tattoo.
Shit. It's the asshole from the river.
Panic crowds her chest. It feels as if she's taken a header off a cliff. Her heart stops. Her stomach plummets to her feet. Briefly, Hisana wonders how bad it will be for her when he realizes that she's the maid that he wanted to kill almost four years ago.
He won't put it together, she tells herself.
This sounds like false comfort in her head until she remembers that nobles tend to suffer from role-dependent memory. She was a maid at House Kuchiki, then. She's a student, now. Her roles have shifted, which probably makes her identity impossible for him to track. Her appearance, too, has changed, which probably helps. Her hair is longer. Her skin has lost its previous pallor, and she's less frail.
"Here you go, Rukongai." Giving her the cards, Kawada grins. His incisors gleam white and sharp, reminding her of fangs.
Collecting herself, Hisana gives the others a quick onceover. At least they were thoughtful enough to come color-coded, she muses. Starting from her left, the nameless noble boys wear blue, red, green, orange, and violet silks.
"Everyone here?" asks the boy in red.
"Still waiting on Eijirō," says the one in blue.
"Where did he go?"
"Chasing Ayame still."
"She's sweet on Kuchiki."
"Byakuya?" scoffs Kawada.
"Probably her endgame, but she's after one of his cousins, Seiji, now." The kid in green pauses, eyes trained on Kawada. "You used to run around with Byakuya Kuchiki, right?"
Listening, but trying her best to appear disinterested, Hisana strips and riffles the cards several times, thinking that the more she shuffles, the less perturbed she will be. She isn't wrong. The slapping sound of the cards moving over one another is calming, and the more she works her hands, the more nervous energy bleeds out of her.
Kawada chuckles. "A few years ago, we occasionally went to parties together."
"When you were following Fumiko Kuchiki around like a goddamned dog?" the boy in blue jibes.
Palming the back of his neck, Kawada shifts on his sitting mat. "Hey, I got what I wanted."
Blue Silks whistles low. "Good on you. She seems like a real frigid bitch, though."
"Not so frigid once—" Kawada eyes Hisana and stops himself.
"You're a moron," teases Red Silks.
Kawada gapes.
"I said what I said." Red Silks shrugs. "You're a moron. Giving up the chance to stay in that social circle once you got the girl."
"I don't think I necessarily chose to leave that social circle." Kawada's shoulders twitch as if his kosode has turned to ants. "I may have pissed off Sōjun Kuchiki during a party and got ejected with extreme prejudice from that circle."
"Oh, so the truth finally comes out," Green Silks practically sings. "Damn. What did you do to piss off Sōjun Kuchiki?"
"Well, we were all incredibly stoned, and I may have urged Byakuya to kill the help."
With the exception of Blue Silks, whose gaze dives into his sake cup, the rest of the boys trade amused stares.
"Like all of the staff?" asks Green Silks.
"No. A maid. Sickly creature. She was sent to fetch water, and, I don't know, it seemed like a fun thing to do. Would've been real easy to get away with it, too, had Sōjun Kuchiki not fucking showed up."
"Did she die?"
"Who knows? Byakuya tossed her ass into the river. It probably dragged her to her death. I was kind of shocked that he did it, to be honest. Guy didn't seem the type to have it in him."
"Nah," chimes Red Silks, "I always knew he was cold-blooded. He nearly annihilated my cousin, Nobuyuki, during a sparring match a few years back. Never seen someone be so ferocious for no reason. Broke his damn jaw. Nobuyuki needed two surgeries. Poor bastard couldn't eat for a month."
"Nobuyuki is a Third Year, right?"
"Fourth," corrects Red Silks.
Hisana's hands go still, but she masks the tremor in her fingers. When she swallows, it feels like shards of glass catching in her throat. She never told Byakuya which student broke her jaw.
Maybe it's only a coincidence.
"Did you see that Byakuya is sweet on some Academy girl?" asks Orange Silks.
Several of the boys chortle at this. "The Ninth is so full of shit, man," says Violet Silks. "No way that Byakuya Kuchiki dumped Tomoe Shimazu for one of our girls. Have you seen Tomoe?"
"Heard she was bad in bed," Orange Silks says and takes a suggestive sip of sake. "That was allegedly the reason for the split."
"All she'd have to do is lay there for me," says Violet Silks.
Kawada and Blue Silks shake their heads disapprovingly.
"She had to be really terrible to go slumming it here," Violet Silks retorts.
"That's not the best part," Orange Silks begins before leaning closer as if to confess a delicious secret, "the official scuttlebutt is that the girl is a commoner."
"Stop!" cries Green Silks. "No way! I do not believe it. Where the actual fuck would Byakuya Kuchiki even meet a commoner?"
"A brothel," jokes Kawada.
"Yeah. I guess his favorite Rukon whore would probably get easy admission into the Academy if that's what he wanted," says Red Silks. "Do we know of any Rukon girls who were former whores?"
"The better question is, 'Do any of us know any Rukon girls?' They're like rare objects around here," observes Blue Silks.
Hisana feels Kawada's attention drift to her.
She steels herself.
"Aw, you all waited for me. What losers," enters an unfamiliar voice. Hisana glances up to find a tall, lanky boy with blond hair and a scar running down the left side of his face.
"Eijirō!" the other nobles cry out in greeting more or less at the same time.
Eijirō smirks and steps further into the nook. "What's up with the chick?" he asks, jerking his chin in Hisana's direction.
"She's our dealer," answers Kawada.
Eijirō opens his right hand and squints through the space between his thumb and index finger at Hisana. "Hisana, right?" he asks, his smirk lengthening into a grin.
Hisana shivers, but the quickness with which she responds to her name betrays her, and he chuckles. She doesn't recognize Eijirō at all. This fact frightens her.
"How much she set you back?" he says before dropping down onto a mat.
"Enough. Why?" mocks Kawada.
"Just trying to get a sense of how much you have to pay Byakuya Kuchiki's bitch for her time."
Immediately, Hisana shrinks into her robes. "I'm not—"
"Now that you mention it," Orange Silks interrupts her, "she does bear a strong resemblance to the girl in the Ninth's photo."
"I'm not—" Hisana rallies again, and again she is silenced.
"Holy shit, you're right! She looks exactly like that girl," agrees Red Silks.
How? Hisana wonders. All that was depicted in the article was the back of the girl's head. "I'm really not—"
"How much?" asks Kawada, watching her with a curious look.
"For what?" Hisana scowls at him. "Study guides?"
"A night?"
Immediately, she sets the cards down and stares into the open space between the partitions. She's fucked. Given her position, any of the seven boys could easily block her departure. She also doesn't have her zanpakutō or any weapon on her, and throwing a spell would be too messy given how packed the party is.
"No. Seriously," Kawada continues, undeterred. "You're Byakuya Kuchiki's whore. Must have a golden pu—"
"I have so many questions," she cuts him off before he can say something embarrassing.
He gawks.
"Do you think Byakuya Kuchiki pays for sex?" Her brows climb up. "Have you seen him? Like really looked at him?" She squints for emphasis. "Trust me, he doesn't have to pay for pleasure."
"All nobles pay for sex," says Eijirō.
Somehow, Hisana doubts that. "What about Ayame? Think she pays for it?"
"That's not what I meant. Of course, noble ladies do not pay," squawks Eijirō.
"Why is that?"
"Because they're supposed to be demure."
Hisana blinks. Hard. "What?" News to her from the stories that she's heard tell.
Kawada sighs, frustrated. "I get it. You're from Rukongai. You don't understand the culture here."
"Oh, please do elucidate," she snaps.
"Take Byakuya for instance," he starts and slants closer, the gleam in his eye sharpening, "he had his own little Usugumo."
Hisana crosses her arms in front of her chest and tosses him a bored look. "Usugumo?"
"Oh, yes. She was the most beautiful courtesan who ever lived."
"So, you're saying Byakuya Kuchiki went from the most beautiful courtesan ever to me?" This observation earns her a few chuckles.
The chuckles, however, appear to pierce Kawada with the speed and deftness of arrows plunging into flesh, and, with a dark look, he closes the space between them, breath hot against Hisana's cheek, and says, "Or, maybe Kuchiki knows something about you that isn't apparent."
When he straightens, his face is all smooth confidence and practiced affability. "Yuto, do you pay for sex?" he asks, gaze drifting to Green Silks.
Yuto nods. "Yeah. Why?"
Kawada then turns to Blue Silks. "Kota? What about you?"
Kota pulls his chin to his neck and, with a sheepish grin, says, "Yeah."
Kawada then lifts his head and peers down at Hisana as if she is his trophy to claim. "It only cost me 500,000 kan for the card game. So, how much for a night, poor girl from Rukongai?"
Hisana does not love that descriptor. Ordinarily, she wouldn't be so dismissive in the face of assured economic benefit. Would she sell her body if necessary? Sure, depending on the price, the terms, and the customer. But, she doesn't need to resort to such measures now, and, more importantly, she doesn't want to.
Hisana tries another tack. "If I were selling myself to a Kuchiki—which I am not—what makes you think you could even afford me?"
Judging by the flurry of dark looks that swirl about the room, Hisana fucked up.
Really badly.
Kawada's lips twist into a rictus grin. "Do you not know who I am?"
"His family operates the Seireitei Central Bank," supplies Kota when Hisana blinks, dumbfounded, in response.
Fuck.
"And the interest rates are high," Kawada says with a dark look.
Inhaling a long breath, Hisana straightens, rolls her shoulders back, and says, "While I do appreciate the insight you display—being that you are well aware that you would have to pay dearly for a woman's touch—I am not for sale."
Kawada bends forward. Real close. So close that Hisana can smell the rice from the onigiri that the students were handing out near the sake table on his breath. He angles his mouth to her ear. "Don't play coy, Hisana. You didn't get here all the way from Rukongai on your feet."
When he pulls away, the rage bleeds from his eyes, and he smiles brightly, performatively. "I'll see you later tonight, then."
Hisana doesn't say a word. Instead, she drinks down her anger and prays that she hides her shuddering well enough.
"Can we please start the fucking card game, already?" sighs Eijirō.
And, so, they begin.
Stiffly, Hisana turns to Kawada and offers him the chance to cut the deck. After he does so, she then burns the top card and waits for the boys to place their bets.
After the first hand, the game falls into an easy rhythm, and Hisana's thoughts, which started filled with heavy static, slowly begin to wander between dealing, collecting losses, and pushing out winnings.
Tsuna, Miyo, and Ayame are gathering their things and appear to be leaving. The boy with a mop of brown curls appears to summon enough courage to approach the redheaded girl who was gabbing with her friends over fashion earlier in the evening. The boy's attention appears well received, for whatever that's worth.
The topic of conversation among the gambling boys falls to the power differentials between various captains and lieutenants and who is the strongest. Hisana finds this all deeply uninteresting because the answer is and always will be Captain Commander Yamamoto is the strongest. The boys, however, get very granular, knowing whole backstories behind each captain and lieutenant. Apparently, Gin Ichimaru graduated from the Academy in record time. Kaien Shiba, also, was no slouch in dashing out of here as fast as he could.
What Hisana would give to leave this infernal place.
"Last call!" A girl with pigtails and flushed cheeks shouts in the distance. Hisana guesses that she must be one of the event's organizers.
"Go big or go home, eh?" says one of the boys.
Hisana bites her lip. Sounds like a bad idea. But, when did a bad idea ever stop a noble from doing something?
The hand goes particularly disastrously for several of the kids, including Eijirō, who bet everything. Hisana, however, says nothing as she collects the losses and distributes the winnings. When the boys are saying their farewells, Hisana makes the calculated decision to escape before receiving the remainder of her pay from Kawada.
Two hundred fifty thousand kan, while a lot in her book, isn't enough to justify getting assaulted over.
Stepping into the brisk autumn night, Hisana hugs her chest tightly and shivers. Darkness has washed away the golden and pink threads of twilight from the sky. It's likely too late for her to catch Byakuya at the bridge, but Hisana can think of nowhere else to go. Returning to her dorm doesn't seem safe in light of Kawada's threat. She also doesn't want to draw Tsuna into whatever violence might chase her.
Although….
As Hisana traces her way through the narrow streets leading to the market, she senses the prickle of another. It's a reiatsu that she felt at the party, but she doesn't think it's Kawada. No, it's one of the other boys.
Not wanting to discern "the who," Hisana picks up the pace. Her flash-step has improved by leaps and bounds since training at the Academy and being trounced by Byakuya so she tries her hand at fancy footwork to throw him off her trail. She thinks it might have done the trick when she reaches the first board of the bridge and slows her pace.
Wrong.
Fingers sink into the flesh of her neck. His whole hand encircles her throat, and he lifts her off her feet. He could crush her right there and then.
Reflexively, Hisana's hand flies to her hip in search of the hilt of her zanpakutō only to find nothing.
Of course….
"Give me the money that Kawada paid you tonight," demands Eijirō. "Five hundred thousand kan, was it?"
Flailing, Hisana shoves her hand into her pocket and withdraws all 250,000 kan. "Here," she rasps. "It's all he gave me."
Eijirō quickly counts the money. "Where's the fucking rest?"
"I left before—" Her voice breaks like glass against the pressure of his grip.
Heart spasming in her chest, Hisana calls forth her power. Feeling the heat of flames against her palm, she loosens a blast of crimson red energy. The spell slams into his chest and sends him flying backward, releasing her in the process.
Hisana crashes to the ground, back hitting the boards first. Breath flees her lungs on impact, but she pushes through the urge to strangle and clambers to her feet. Once horizontal, she lifts her arm out, hand fully extended, and summons the energy for another blast. The spell snaps against her fingers, strong and bright. She's about to release it when a familiar voice stops her cold.
"Eijirō?"
Gasping, the boy scrambles backward on his hands and legs, limbs thrashing when he loses traction. Fear flashes in his eyes. "Lord Kuchiki?"
"What is the meaning of this?" asks Byakuya.
"She—her—she—" stammers Eijirō, pointing at Hisana who remains positioned to unleash another blast of shakkahō.
"Return home, Eijirō," says Byakuya.
Eijirō doesn't need to be told twice. As soon as his feet are under him, he's off. The smell of scorched wood and ozone carries in his wake.
With heart galloping in her chest, Hisana's lungs finally decide to inflate. The breath that slides down her throat first is sharp and gritty and tastes of blood. Squeezing her eyes shut, she staunches the spell and gasps.
"Hisana," murmurs Byakuya. The flicker of his reiatsu against hers drags her attention to him.
Night falls heavy around them, but the sky is clear, and the moon and stars shine bright enough for her to see his face. He regards her with a quiet look. She can tell he wants to ask her what the hell that was all about.
Instead, he murmurs a soft, "Come," and begins in the direction of the market.
Wordlessly, she follows.
The second they enter the restaurant, the hostess receives them with a cheerful smile and greeting before leading the way to a private room. The lively sounds of conversation from the main dining area swell and then fade as they begin down a long corridor. The room is at the end, and, once safely inside and alone, they sit.
As is custom, Hisana pours the tea.
When the food comes, the smell of hot rice, smoked fish, and vegetables brings her back from her thoughts and grounds her. She takes a bite of rice and frowns. It feels like she's trying to swallow a sheet of sandpaper. The tea goes down no better.
Her gaze drifts to Byakuya. In the warm glow of lantern light, he is starting to look healthier. The sharpness of his features has diminished, and his hair now dares to shine. He's also eating the food instead of picking at grains of race and frowning.
"How do you know Eijirō Matsudaira?" he asks, keeping his voice conversational, but Hisana hears the ting of steel all the same. She can tell that he's not thrilled about what he witnessed on the bridge, but he likely knows that a head-on interrogation won't work with her.
"I don't," she says, eyes fastened to her rice bowl.
"It sounded like he wanted money."
She pushes her food around with her chopsticks. "He did."
"His family has suffered several financial setbacks recently." Byakuya takes a sip of tea.
She feels transparent under his stare. "Well, it seems like they have a few more debts to add to their ledger."
He sets his chopsticks aside. "What happened?"
Hisana shrugs. "Nothing."
"Hisana."
She folds her hands in her lap. "It's the way it goes here."
His brows draw together. "What do you mean?"
"Nobles, they can't take the blame for their actions so they assign it to others. Story as old as time."
He shifts uncomfortably at this observation.
"Don't," she says, giving him a fleeting glance. "Don't settle this score for me, Byakuya."
"The Matsudaira are brutal under optimal conditions. They're hurting now."
Her lips press together, and she shakes her head.
"What happened?" he asks again, this time his voice is quieter, less demanding.
"I got cornered into being the dealer during a game of 21."
"Gambling is illegal for students."
"I'm aware." She keeps her eyes off him. "I didn't bring the cards or the money."
"Who cornered you?"
She shakes her head. "It was a group of boys. I don't know all of their names."
"But you know some of their names."
"Lord Byakuya," she warns, hitting the end of her rope. "Leave it alone."
"Does that happen often? You getting cornered?"
She wants to tell him to mind his own business, but he means well, she thinks. "Not often. But not never, either, which is why I avoid the Academy events."
He studies her. "Why did you go tonight?"
"Tsuna begged me."
"Tsuna Sasaki?"
Hisana nods. "Remember her from the party?"
His eyes narrow.
"You should marry her," she teases.
"Hisana." A low disapproving note sounds in his voice.
"She's very sweet." Hisana forces herself to meet his gaze. "She's the secretary of your fan club." With this, she hopes to shove him off kilter. Anything to make him stop. She doesn't need saving.
"Hisana."
"Ayame Kamiya is the vice president," she continues, feeling the threads of his patience fraying into nothing.
He offers her his hand. "Come here." His voice is low but unsteady.
She stares at the lines of his palm. It's a warrior's hand, calloused and rough from wielding a sword and casting spells. She knows its touch, the hardness of it against her own skin.
He's worried.
Reluctantly, Hisana accepts and scoots around the end of the table to where he sits.
With a featherlight touch, Byakuya tilts her chin up. His gaze burns her, and she watches how quickly his mild expression goes blank. The only evidence of his disquiet is the heaviness of his breath, which rustles in her hair.
She knows the damage that Eijirō inflicted on her can't look good. She feels the pain, feels the heaviness of swelling, feels the ache in her glands, and the scratchiness in her throat. She can almost feel the bruises as they spread and change color, turning from red to bluish-purple.
It's going to be a nightmare to conceal.
"I will call for the physician," he says finally.
"No." She tears away from his grasp. "You won't."
"You're injured."
"Injured, but not dead. I've suffered worse stranglings to know that this one is survivable."
He flinches at that. "Hisana."
"You can't fix this for me. Either Eijirō goes to the Academy administration and pins everything on me, which he won't because he would have to reveal his own complicity in the gambling and potentially everyone else who was there doing the same. Or-"
"Or he corners you again and kills you."
"He's not going to kill me." Her blood boils at the thought of Eijirō even trying. "You can't step in for me. It'll only make things worse."
"How?"
"They'll know."
"Know what?"
Hisana blinks, lips pressed so tightly together that she can taste the tin of blood. "Your fan club already suspects—"
"Suspects what?"
She lowers her head and shuts her eyes. She won't say it. She doesn't know how to say it.
Byakuya's shoulders shift uncomfortably, and she catches how his chest tightens under his robes. He is angry. Probably angry at her. Angry at himself. Angry at Eijirō.
"What do you want from me?" he asks, looking like he, too, has met the end of his rope. "Do you want us never—"
"No," she cuts him off. "Do you—"
"No."
Hisana takes his hand in hers, and they sit in silent contemplation for a long while. It starts heavy and belligerent, but the heat quickly burns off, leaving Hisana feeling in better spirits by the end. Or, at least, she feels better enough to find the strength of impertinence to ask, just as Byakuya is taking a sip of tea, "Do all noblemen pay for sex?"
He splutters, eyes wide, and his stare locks on the table. "What?" he wheezes.
"Do noblemen pay for sex? Is that like a thing here?" With lips twitching, she tries her damnedest not to laugh.
Byakuya's gaze darts up to her, but he remains otherwise motionless, still hunched over his cup of tea, looking as if her question has scalded him. "What?"
"I don't know how to make it any clearer."
"Why are you asking me?" His brows knit, and a wrinkle creases his forehead.
Is he concerned? For me?
"I'm not proposing opening a brothel at the Academy or something," she says when it dawns on her that he isn't concerned for her so much as he is concerned about the thing that he imagines she is planning to do.
The wrinkle vanishes, and his shoulders relax into a straight, even line.
"Although, now that I'm hearing it out loud, Academy Host Club isn't the worst idea," she teases.
"Seireitei has obscenity laws that make such ventures illegal."
"What?" A guffawing breath escapes her. "The place with literal fighting pits has obscenity laws?"
Byakuya hides his grin behind his teacup. "Prostitution is considered a distraction from the duty of marriage."
"Not to belabor the point, but there are fighting pits here, sir."
"Which are meant to be retributive and in promotion of social harmony."
"So, noblemen don't pay for sex? Since it's illegal."
"Illegal in the Seireitei. Legal elsewhere."
Hisana's shoulders sag.
Why does he have to be so frustrating?
"So, noblemen pay for sex, they just have to go slumming for it in the Rukon?"
"I can't speak for all noblemen. If you're asking about me, specifically, I do not pay for intimacy."
"Intimacy?" she scoffs. Leave it to Byakuya to pretty up the act.
But…
Ah, she thinks she has him now. "What about Usugumo?"
"Usugumo?" he repeats the name with the look of a man who unwittingly became party to a train derailment. "How do you know about Usugumo?"
So, there is a there, there! How fascinating. Hisana cups her chin in her hand—her eyelids falling a little—and her grin softens. "Secrets, Lord Byakuya? Between us? You wound me."
He shakes his head. Long and slow. Confidently. "I didn't pay for Usugumo's companionship."
Hisana rolls her eyes. Companionship. Oh, gag. "Sex. Just say 'sex,' Byakuya."
"Usugumo was a courtesan. Their services entail far more than sex."
"So, you didn't pay for only sex."
"I never paid."
"Too handsome? She took you as a client free of charge? A tryst, perhaps? Was there a tryst?" she whispers the last word, feigning scandalization.
"I was never a client. I never had any relationship with her."
Hisana draws back slightly, her eyes searching him. "But, you know about Usugumo."
"Yes. Everyone at the time did. She was famous."
Was.
Hisana puts a pin in that.
"And you never…."
Byakuya averts his gaze. "I enjoyed hearing her sing." Before Hisana can open her mouth, he stops her with a glare. "During public performances. I never purchased her time."
He sighs and glances away. "Perhaps my interest in her was too obvious. There were rumors."
"You said she was famous. Is she retired now? Happily married? Fled the city? Dead?"
Hisana is betting on dead.
"She passed away a few years ago."
"Oh?"
"Death is a frequent hazard in the pleasure quarters."
"Oh."
His jaw clenches, and his gray stare becomes dark and remote.
Guilt.
"Did you kill her?" Hisana asks with a sly grin, hoping to inject a little levity.
It works.
Almost.
Byakuya glances back at her, less doleful than before. "No. But my perceived interest did not help." He pauses for a moment before asking, "Did something happen?"
Her gaze drags into her lap, and, nervously, she plucks the lint from the threads of her hakama. "What makes you say that?"
"I assume your sudden curiosity in sex work emanates from something that happened today at Academy and not a personal interest."
Hisana really, really does not want to tell him about Kawada. But, she really, really, really does not want to be forced to behead a classmate when he does what he told her he was going to try to do.
Byakuya sets his teacup down, and his shoulders droop. "The article," he surmises as he stares into his tea, expression impenetrable.
Yeah, that fucking stupid article.
"One of the students made an offer for your time," he reasons.
"You know, it's really weird how quickly people jump at your sloppy seconds. Perceived sloppy seconds at that."
"It isn't that."
"Oh?"
"It's a competition."
"Competition?" Hisana scoffs. "What's the prize?"
"The satisfaction of taking something I want."
His words land like a gut punch, but she believes him. "Is that what happened to Usugumo?"
"I don't know."
"But, you suspect."
"Tell me the boy's name." His voice is rough and cold.
Hisana shakes her head. "No."
"Tell me."
"This is my problem. I'll deal with it." Even if it means being tossed in a fighting pit because she stabbed the asshole son of a banker to death.
"Hisana."
She locks eyes with him. "No. This is my fight."
Byakuya lifts his head stiffly. "Perhaps… we cease… this…."
"No," she snaps, "the absolute last thing I want is for some jerk to take this away from m—" Before she can complete her thought, the rational part of her brain—which must have been comatose until now—kicks on and stops her short.
Part of her dies inside.
The other part?
Well, it runs headlong into a wall of denial.
Maybe she didn't say it out loud? Maybe, with the quickness with which her mouth was flapping, none of the words came out intelligibly? Maybe-
One look at Byakuya and all hope that she took a tumble down gibberish lane abandons her.
He heard. Worse yet, he understood. Worst of all, he felt it.
"You want to contin—" he begins, but she cuts him off before he can make her feel even more awkward than she already does.
"Yes, Byakuya. The food is nice. Ambiance is okay. Kind of dark and moody, but it is what it is. And, you're… You're…." Her lips press together because as much as she wants to say something nice, that stupid look building on his face makes her want to slug him even more. "You're a plus, too, I guess."
He grins, knowingly.
She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at him. Like an idiot. It's no use.
The rest of the night proceeds according to custom. They eat. They share stories. She aced a hakuda exam, which was new and different. He managed to not get sliced up once by his zanpakutō during his last training session. Also new and different.
When they finish and step out of the restaurant under the thick cover of night, Hisana pauses, turning her attention skyward. Heavy clouds gather overhead. A flash of lightning passes between them, and, several seconds later, thunder booms in the distance.
A storm is brewing.
"Do you not wish to walk?" he asks.
Hisana glances down the side street to the main artery leading to the Academy. Instinct forces her hand to her hip, but her zanpakutō isn't there to give its hilt a good squeeze. To hide this reflex, her fingers ball into a fist at her side.
"We have umbrellas at the manor should the rains catch you," says Byakuya, perceptively.
Hisana nods, and they begin in the direction of the estate. The moment her feet hit the pavement, the tension releases from her hand, and she exhales a relieved breath.
It begins in silence. But, a comfortable sort of silence. Which is nice. Hisana has very few people with whom she can share a good quiet.
Only when they cross the bridge over the ravine, does that silence break.
"Thanks," she says. Part of her wants to add, "for caring," but her heart jackknifing inside her chest convinces her to keep her damn mouth shut.
Byakuya's expression softens and his pace slows.
He's listening.
"For scaring Eijirō away," Hisana adds. It's a lie. Eijirō had already been spooked by her. Byakuya's interference was unnecessary, but this sounds like the placating sort of thing that he might want to hear.
With a sideways glance, he watches her.
"That's not permission to menace him," she clarifies.
"What is it, then?"
"Gratitude."
This isn't a lie.
She is grateful for him.
Byakuya pauses at this confession then turns to her, starlight glinting in his eyes. His lips part, but before he can say a word the rain comes. Neither of them moves. They stand there staring at one another until they are soaked to the bone. Like idiots.
Dumb, dumb, idiots.
But, Hisana can't fathom a better way to spend her evening.
"Come," he says finally, tugging her along behind him.
Picking up the pace, they rush to the engawa outside his quarters, taking cover. Breathless and wet, they burst into laughter.
Hisana imagines that she looks like a drowned rat.
But, he still looks….
She pushes the description away as soon as she feels her blood catch flame.
"Good evening, my lord," she says, giving her best impersonation of Seike as she bows.
When she straightens, she finds him watching her with that stupid look on his face. How she hates it and loves it and….
They stop. He studies her like she's a painting, and she tilts her head to the side. Thunder crashes overhead so loudly that its reverberations rattle around in her bones. Lightning sizzles and burns, turning the night a blinding white.
"No offers for tea?" she teases, thinking that she might be tempted to accept tonight.
"You never accept." He pulls back the door and a gust of warm air escapes.
The scents of fresh tea and cherry blossoms wrap around her. The smell of him is comforting. It smooths the edges, if only for a moment.
Stop that, the sane part of her hisses.
The sound of wood skating against itself brings her back, and she finds that he has opened the door wider. For her.
She must look wanton.
She feels wanton.
"But, there may be something that's of interest to you inside," he says, a strand of teasing threading his voice.
Hisana arches her neck to see into the room. It is the same as she remembers: Clean, spacious, and sparsely adorned. What she doesn't expect, however, are three very large scrolls.
"Are those them?" she asks, eyes wide and barely able to contain her glee.
"Yes. Those are the papers."
"The genealogies for the carp!" She glances up at him excitedly. "You remembered."
"Of course. It took far longer than I expected to receive them."
She edges closer to the threshold of the room, stopping short the instant she remembers that she is dripping wet.
Byakuya, too, appears to only now realize this about himself. Perfunctorily, he begins to strip off his robes as if he has done this very thing a thousand times.
Perhaps he has done this very thing a thousand times. It is his home, after all.
Hisana watches him sidelong, a gaze that is seeing but hazy. She knows she should look away. But, she doesn't. Her mind won't allow her. Instead, it chooses to focus on him, and him alone. The rest of the world and its colors blur into darkness, into nothing.
His pale skin closely follows the layers of muscle underneath. She sees every movement, every flexion, every minute strip of tension as the muscles pull and release across his back and his shoulders and his legs and his chest. She wonders what the skin of his back feels like. Warm probably. It's also probably smooth, smooth everywhere except for the ridges of scars that shimmer like silken threads in the moonlight.
She inhales a shaky breath, and her stomach tightens. Everything tightens.
Perhaps remembering that he is not alone, Byakuya glances over at her. The smooth planes of his face are unreadable, but there is a darkness in his eyes, one that she can't decide is wanting or predatory.
"I will fetch you some dry clothes," he says.
Before Hisana can protest, he is gone.
Blood pounds in her head, and she tries to push it away. She wants nothing more than to shove these feelings into some deep dark basement of her mind.
She should leave, she tells herself.
But….
She stares into the rains that curtain the world beyond the engawa. Lightning flashes at intervals, but less intensely now than before. Thunder continues to clap, but quieter now than before. It would be imprudent to dash home right now, she thinks.
Maybe she's being dramatic.
The rain is a convenient excuse, her inner pragmatist chimes.
Before she can examine this observation too deeply, Byakuya returns dressed in blue silks. In his hands is a neatly folded gray kosode. She turns her head slightly, enough so that she doesn't have to see him watch her if she doesn't want to. Then, she begins to undress.
He doesn't look away when she peels the wet haori from her shoulders. Nor does he avert his eyes when she unties the knots of her academy uniform. Or when her hakama slips to the boards. Or when all that remains is her red shitage, which clings to her form like a second skin.
She lifts her head and meets his stare when her fingers begin loosening the final ties. She feels liquid under his gaze, like this all might be a dream.
Then, she runs her hand down the collar. She doesn't blush or flutter as she begins to part the under-robe.
And, neither does he.
Before the garment slips, pulled down by the weight of rainwater, a thin muscle in his jaw twitches, and the hollow between his collarbones deepens. His eyes slip shut, and he turns his head.
Hisana takes the kosode from his hands, careful not to touch him, and quickly stitches herself together. When the last tie is done, she glances down and grins.
The silk is so smooth that it feels oily against her skin. And its smell…. It smells of him, of cherry blossoms and tea. It nearly obliterates her, drowning out everything else.
That is until she feels his touch against her neck. It is a stray caress, unintentional as he adjusts the collar for her, but it brings her back.
She catches his hand in hers before he can pull away.
He doesn't move.
He merely watches her.
Quietly.
Like she is something meaningful.
"Carp breeding papers," she reminds herself as much as him.
Byakuya nods his head in the direction of his room, and she follows.
Feeling her head start to clear, Hisana takes a deep, cleansing breath. She's got this. She's just here to wait out the rain. She's just here to tease him about his family's impractical carp dynasty. She's just here to….
"I can't believe it," she says, voice bright, and drops to her knees at his writing desk. "I really thought you were kidding."
He takes a seat beside her. "Kuchiki take their carp very seriously."
Eagerly, she unfurls what appears to be the oldest scroll. Her jaw drops. "Good gods, Byakuya! Do these go back to the beginning of Soul Society?"
He chuckles. "Not quite."
"And these names!" She cups her mouth and glances over at him. "Are these names for fish?"
He nods.
"Look at them! Shikibu-no-Jō, Ki-no-Kami, Naishi-no-Suke, Genji." With the one, it dawns on her that these are all names of fictional characters.
"Yes, it seems that The Tales of Genji was a favorite source of inspiration among my kin for a long while."
"Goodness, every minor character is here."
"Unfortunately, little Genji's performance appears to have been quite underwhelming."
Hisana laughs when she sees Genji's family tree is practically a twig. "Wishful thinking, I suppose."
"Indeed." Byakuya unravels a scroll that appears to be newer. The parchment is largely a consistent color, no water stains or clear signs of aging, and it has the least fraying around the edges. "The current fish have more modern names, I think."
She shifts closer to look on.
"See, Torasaburō."
Hisana blinks, and her brows furrow. "What?"
"Is that not more modern?"
She giggles and shakes her head.
"Are things very different here compared to the World of the Living?"
"Names are. Other things, too. From the bits that I can recall."
"How much do you remember?"
"Hard to say," she says quietly. "Memories from my past life are scattered. Sometimes, it's visual, but even then, it's only snippets. I'll see the flutter of a girl's ribbon, or hands laced during a schoolyard dance."
These fragments of time are her favorite.
"There is a brightness to them, though, that differs from my memories here," she adds.
Byakuya's brows rise slightly. "A brightness?"
Hisana nods. "It's kind of like the light that cuts between the shifting of tree branches in summer, golden and fleeting."
"Is there anything you miss from the World of the Living?" he asks.
"My family." The answer comes as automatically to her as breathing. It's the truth, one that she feels even if she hadn't realized it until now. She doesn't withdraw it or try to blunt the impact of how sharply she feels this truth, not like she would have before.
Instead, she adds, "Being separated from those you love is probably the cruelest aspect of death."
Byakuya considers her at length. The aloofness that he wears as casually as his silks falls away. Replacing it is a bittersweet look that makes her heart skip a beat.
Hisana takes his hand in both of hers. "Back to the carp," she says as warmly as she can before her treacherous heart can reveal more intimacies. "Have you named one yet?"
Byakuya shakes his head. "The naming rights vest to the head of the family and to the heads of the other branch families."
She chuckles. "What do you plan to name your first fish, my lord?"
"It's customary to give the name of your zanpakutō to the first."
Hisana cocks her head at this. "So, Senbonzakura?"
He nods.
"Does your zanpakutō know about this?" For some reason, she thinks her zanpakutō might be insulted if she did such a thing.
"I don't know," he answers as if this is his first time considering it. "Likely, if I know, Senbonzakura must know as well. Are there things you can keep hidden from your own zanpakutō?"
"I think so," reasons Hisana, head listing to the side ponderously. "We can definitely hide things about ourselves from ourselves. Our zanpakutō can hide things about themselves from us as well."
"But, can we both know and not know something about ourselves?"
This question sounds like a riddle, but it's one with which Hisana is well-acquainted, and she smiles wide at the answer. "I think that's called denial, my lord."
He chuckles. "I think you're right."
Hisana stares at him for what feels like a long time. He's an easy person to watch. His stillness, especially, fascinates her, but he doesn't look particularly still tonight. No, the flickers of pale light from the lightning and the shadows from the rains and winds seem to echo his thoughts. Even his reiatsu, which he usually keeps bound up so tight is loosened and thrums quietly through hers.
"What's Senbonzakura like?" she asks, inching closer until the outside of her thigh is pressed against his.
Byakuya pauses for a moment, gaze drifting to the ceiling as if pinning this particular relationship proves difficult. "He's surly but insightful, demanding but never overly punitive, and always thoroughly exhausting."
"Oh," says Hisana noddingly, "so a zanpakutō, then." Sounds exactly like hers.
This earns her a smile. A real one. "I suppose," he replies. "Although, I don't think I've ever compared notes. Is yours—"
"Yes. She's incorrigible. Arrogant. Haughty. Moody. Sometimes even a bit malevolent." Hisana wrinkles her nose at the last one. "But, she's also perceptive and direct and thoughtful. I appreciate her company, even if the work that she demands of me is hard."
Byakuya's smile dims and his stare deepens. "What's her name?"
Hisana hesitates. Her immediate reaction, however, isn't to flee. Fear still bites her heart, true. She supposes revealing any deep intimacy comes with a nip of fear that you may be misunderstood or undervalued, especially by a man whose zanpakutō is famously known and regarded as one of the most beautiful. But, the fear that curls in her chest like a feral animal isn't as agitated as it once would have been. Hisana considers this a small win.
Taking a big breath, she decides to entrust this detail to him. "Komorebi," she says, evenly. This is probably the most intimate she's ever been with a man.
Byakuya leans closer and, with a gentle caress, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as she so often does for him when he's being vulnerable. "Thank you," he whispers before kissing her.
The kiss is achingly sweet, full of yearning, and Hisana pulls back. Only a sliver of night separates them. She slides her hand to the space between his collar and jaw and meets his stare. "Tea?" she asks.
His features soften, and his hand moves deeper into her hair. "I'd like that," he says and kisses her once more, this time with passion.
She wishes her fingers were half as clever as his, but he isn't demanding nor does his impatience rise. He waits for her to slip the final knot that she's been feverishly picking apart for what feels like ages but, in actuality, has been less than a second. When she glances up at him, feeling a little unpracticed, she receives an expression of raw tenderness.
"Where was all this care during our kaidou practice, my lord?" she teases, cupping his cheek in her hand.
He grins and kisses her neck. "Perhaps this is how you should have started those lessons," he teases back, breath hot against her throat. He's gentle near the wound, but the intermittent sparks of pain almost feel nice, grounding even.
Hisana eases down, to her back, and urges him nearer, to come over her so that she can feel his heat as he shifts into position. She's never submitted to this act enthusiastically, but she knows its steps well enough. At this thought, her body goes rigid.
Horror enters her sharper than a blade.
She thinks she hides it well enough, masking it as inexperience. Her reiatsu, however, betrays her. His reiatsu is so tangled in hers, that he must feel the knife of horror as keenly as she does. This fact becomes evident when he stops, eyes flying to her face.
"I can go slower," he says, searching her. "Or we can stop." His hold on her feels weightless. "I'm at your command."
Hisana's heart swerves at this confession, and, to assuage the prickling that sweeps across her at feeling so considered, she motions him closer. Her hands glide up his arms, feeling the shape of the muscles pulled into flexion. When they reach his shoulders, she slides his silks back so that she can see him better. "Slow," she murmurs.
He leans down, weight braced on his forearms, and he kisses her on the lips, then the jaw, then the neck, then the collarbone, then her chest. Her hands explore the expanse of his back, relishing the way he shifts and tenses both at her touch and as he moves down her body.
Her breath hitches as soon as his mouth finds the inside of her thigh. It is at this moment when all the colors and sounds pull away, leaving her to drown in sensation. She feels the weight and resonance his reiatsu working its way through hers before she feels the physical sensation of his touch, his kisses, his warmth, the sweep of his tongue. This further reminds her that the sensations of the body are merely echoes of what she feels first in their reiatsu, as it unspools and flows together, no longer bound up against them, hardening their skin and dampening their shared experience.
The ache in her tightens and tightens and tightens until she feels the give of imminent release. All it takes is a gentle nudge for him to stop. As soon as he pulls back, she urges him to the floor and slides on top.
Hisana stares down at Byakuya through heavy lashes, and he returns her stare, remaining still as she finds a comfortable position. Once she does, his hands follow the shape of her hips to her back before finding their way to under her ribcage. She feels their warmth in the back of her mind, but his touches are too light to register their pressure, and she closes her eyes as she sinks further into him.
It takes her a few long moments to ease fully into the sensation of their connection. Byakuya is patient, letting her find her own rhythm and speed, and, once she does, she opens her eyes to peer down at him.
He watches her with the reverence of a devotee. The intimacy of his gaze shatters her heart, and she leans down to kiss him, to kiss away the aching. His hand moves up her back, to her neck, where he cradles her head, and she feels him move with her.
The sensation that surges through her next is terrible and wonderful, all at once. It is the kind of terrible, wonderful thing that starts slow and builds until there is only it and all other senses before dies upon its release.
Before Hisana can dissolve into a shaky puddle, Byakuya puts an arm around her and rolls her under him. He kisses her hard, catching her moans in his mouth as if they are breath to starved lungs. The moment he stops, she buries her head in his hair and holds him fast against her.
Her heart beats so hard that she can almost feel it pulse through him. When the sensations previously felt start to dissipate and the room returns to view, she lets out a soft gasp. As their bodies have merged together, so have their reiatsu. Her red and his white have melded into an unmistakable shade of pink.
Byakuya, too, stares on with rapt curiosity. But, the more they watch, the more the particles untangle until it is just red and just white. Until it is just her and just him.
As soon as the tension in Hisana's neck goes slack and her head hits the floor, she lets out a small laugh.
Byakuya glances down at her, his expression mild but questioning.
"We never made it to the bed," she teases.
"You assumed we would?" He grins. "We can go there now."
Hisana smiles wide at his ambition.
Hisana lies cuddled against his side on his futon. Her heart hammers in her chest, jagged stops and jolting starts. She feels so heavy, so tired, and yet so happy.
Byakuya holds her to him. One hand rests on her hip and the other is buried deep in her hair.
There is no escape.
Which is fine by her.
Although, she does have her concerns about the privacy of this tryst and what his family will do once they get wind of it. They are in House Kuchiki, after all. The shadows here have eyes and ears and fangs and claws.
"It's still raining," he says, misjudging the source of her worry. "Stay here until after the storm passes."
She grins. "What if the storm doesn't pass until the morning?"
"Then, stay the night." He pulls her tighter to him.
"What if it never passes?"
"Then, never leave."
She kisses him. It starts chaste and playful, but she can't help herself. She never does things by halves, and, so, she kisses him with all of her, every bit of passion she can muster.
"Stay forever," he decides.
How she loves it when he lies to her with the confidence of a man who has never known the ruin of false hope.
She should've taken tea with him sooner.
Tsuna is wide awake when Hisana creeps into the room on her tiptoes and hunched over like a goblin. It's no use. Her roommate is on her in a second flat.
"Where have you been all night?" Tsuna demands.
Easing into a more natural posture, Hisana shuts the door behind her. "Out."
"With?" Tsuna's eyes narrow.
"Myself?" Hisana grimaces. "Why?" Tsuna usually isn't so precious on the rare occasions that Hisana returns in the morning.
"I was worried!"
"About what?"
"You!" Tsuna puts her hands on her hips. "You know, a guy died last night!"
"What?" Hisana's eyes widen.
"Yeah! One of our classmates."
Before Hisana can ask which one, Tsuna interjects, "I saw you with him at the party so I thought, oh, maybe that's Mr. Nightly. And then, he's dead, and you didn't come home, and so I thought you had…." Tsuna gasps as if the next thought proves too painful to say aloud.
"Died?" provides Hisana.
The word sends Tsuna collapsing onto Hisana's shoulder in a fit of tears.
"So, who died?" Hisana asks, patting Tsuna on the back.
"Eijirō Matsudaira." Tsuna sniffles. When she finally finds the strength to lift her head out of the curve of Hisana's neck, she belts out a strangled, "What happened to your neck?"
Hisana tenses. "Nothing. I fell."
"On your neck?"
In retrospect, it's not the best lie. But, it's all she's got at dawn-o'-clock in the morning. "Yeah. I was drunk. Fell down some steps. Hit the railing."
Tsuna throws her a skeptical glance. "Was it because of some weird sex thing?"
Now, it's Hisana's turn to splutter, horrified. "No!"
Tsuna giggles and then sniffs Hisana's hair. "You know, you smell really nice."
Ignoring that stray comment, Hisana steps back. "Say more about Eijirō Matsudaira."
"What's there to say? He's dead." Tsuna whispers the last word.
"How? Who? What? Where? Whe—"
"Oh. He was found stabbed to death in the alleyway near his family's restaurant."
"When?"
Tsuna shrugs her shoulders. "The night watch found his body shortly after midnight."
Hisana inhales a shaky breath. She and Byakuya had been together all night. While powerful, she doesn't think Byakuya has the ability to telepathically put a hit on someone. Nor does she think "hiring a hit" would be a solution he would pursue. He's more of a "strongly worded letter" type of guy.
"That's unexpected," Hisana says, voice jumpy in her throat.
"I know. Can you believe it?"
No. Not even a little.
"Some people think it was his parents," whispers Tsuna. "They fell on hard times, according to the news. I guess they couldn't support him."
"So, they killed him?"
What the hell, Nobles?
Tsuna tilts her head, and her face scrunches up. "Some of the families are like that."
"They murder their own children?"
Tsuna nods. "He apparently lost a lot of money at some Rukon racetrack." Her lips twist to the side. "Honor sometimes demands blood, I guess."
Hisana cringes inwardly. "Does it, though?"
"My family isn't like that, but we aren't highborn so…." Tsuna lifts a shoulder. "Also, Tetsunosuke came looking for you last night."
"Who?"
"Tetsunosuke Kawada, the son of the—"
"Oh, right," sighs Hisana. "The banker's son."
"Yeah, he seemed pretty adamant about seeing you. He's not Mr. Nightly, right?" The last word hits a discordant note.
Hisana shakes her head. "Did he say what he wanted?"
"No, but he looked scared."
"Scared?" That was not the word Hisana was anticipating.
Tsuna nods. "He said it's important and that he wants to see you this morning."
"Did he say where?"
"The mess hall. He said he'd wait there all day if necessary."
Hisana bites her lip, gaze trailing to the tactical bag where she keeps her zanpakutō. Maybe something is wrong and the banker bastard isn't planning to force himself on her. That one kid is dead, after all, and they were participating in an illicit card game right before said kid died.
Oh, this is such a mess.
Before Hisana can make a decision either way, a loud banging forces both her and Tsuna to the door. Tsuna opens it to reveal a surly-looking shinigami with short black hair and a scowl. "We are looking for a student who goes by the name of Hisana."
Tsuna immediately steps aside, leaving Hisana standing there looking pretty guilty. "That would be me, sir."
"Follow me to the Academy Detention Center. We have some questions about your whereabouts last night."
The Academy Detention Center is really an annex off the Main Hall of the Academy. It contains a small reception area, a few offices, and several windowless "Interrogation Rooms." The shinigami deposits Hisana in Interrogation Room C and leaves her there for several hours. The room is cold and has one small table and two metal chairs. The lighting is sharp and overly white, and Hisana really wishes she had not attended that stupid fucking party.
By hour three, the door finally opens and in steps none other than Captain Kyōraku. "Why if it isn't my favorite Academy student."
Hisana takes one look at him, groans, and goes back to resting her head in her arms on the table. "Go away."
"Oh, how I wish I could," the captain sighs before dragging the metal chair from the table and taking a seat across from her. "What happened last night?"
She peeks at him through her hair and frowns. "Be more specific."
"Be more specific?" he parrots. "How many crimes do you usually commit in a day?"
"Usually? None."
He shakes his head. "Okay, well, there's a dead student. Does that ring any bells?"
"I didn't kill him," she grumbles into her arms.
"Good to know." The captain nods approvingly. "Do you know which student died?"
"Eijirō Matsudaira."
"Concerning that you know this."
"My roommate told me when I got in this morning."
"When you got in this morning?" Disapproval rings loudly in his voice.
Hisana silently dares him to ask her where she was all night.
"Did you not sleep in your dorm room?"
Hisana blinks.
"Where were you, then?"
Hisana lifts her head and inhales a deep breath. "Is it important?"
The captain gives her a tense look. "Yeah, your alibi is sort of important."
She then drags herself up, back straight, hands in her lap, and closes her eyes. "I was with a boy all night."
"All night?"
Flinchingly, she nods. "All night."
"Which boy?"
Hisana cracks open an eye and winces. "Take a guess."
The captain's brows shoot up, and he sucks in his cheeks. "What were you doing together all night?"
"Take another guess."
He exhales a long breath through his teeth and sinks into the back of his chair. "Well, it could be worse. Much worse. The Chambers have no appetite for prying into the internal affairs of the Five Noble Families so they are likely to let this go without further question."
"The Chambers?" Her eyes widen.
"A boy is dead, Hisana. Did you think campus security was going to investigate this?"
She gives him a knowing smirk and shrugs. "I mean, I'd never accuse Soul Society of making sense."
He snorts. "Fair enough. But, generally, when a high lord's child is murdered, there is an investigation."
Hisana frowns. "Okay, well, glad I made some good choices last night." Because she could easily see that murderous noble family pinning Eijirō's killing on her, a nobody from nowhere.
"What happened to your neck?" asks the captain.
Hisana rolls her eyes.
"Hisana," he says warningly.
"You're not going to like this story."
"I never like any of your stories."
"Well, this might be your least favorite one." She averts her gaze to the floor and wrings her hands.
How she wishes she could rewrite history.
"So, I went to a party, and there was a card game for which I may have been paid to be the dealer, and Eijirō Matsudaira may have been party to said card game, and Eijirō may have also assaulted me in the market to steal my money."
The captain glances off into the middle distance and chuckles. "Wonderful."
"To be fair to me," she starts.
"Wouldn't be fair to be unfair."
Hisana promptly brushes off the captain's aside and continues, "I was menaced into being the dealer. And, Eijirō did steal all of my money. In that sense, it was like it never happened."
"Oh, I'm sure the Academy's Tribunal will love that argument."
She swallows hard. "Tribunal?"
Cupping his chin in his hand, Captain Kyōraku's gaze drags back to her. "That's the body who metes out judgments and sentences for students suspected of offenses here."
"No one ever gets caught."
"They do when one of the students is murdered shortly afterward."
"None of us murdered him," she says confidently.
"Who murdered him, then?"
"His family, right?"
"Who told you that?"
"My roommate." She cringes.
"And your roommate—"
"I get it. I get it. It's conjecture." Hisana lowers her head, defeated. "No one actually knows who murdered Eijirō Matsudaira."
"Your roommate is correct to suspect his family, all things considered. But, his family is well-connected, and Eijirō being a derelict son isn't a defense for murder so they're going to point fingers. And…." He stares at Hisana pointedly.
"The illicit card game will be hard to ignore." Hisana pauses for a moment. "What if no money traded hands?"
The captain's stare becomes less pointed. "Go on."
"It's gambling that's the prohibited activity. Playing cards in and of itself isn't wrong. If everyone returns their 'winnings,' then it was only a game, and we're all good."
He shakes his head. "That theory doesn't work because you all did place bets with money at the time."
"I didn't."
"You were an accessory."
"An accessory isn't the same."
"An accessory before the fact is punished as harshly as those who committed the offense."
"So, they're really going to throw the banker's son out on his ear?" Hisana doesn't believe it.
"Banker's son?"
"Tetsunosuke Kawada."
The captain's brows draw together. "Who else participated in that game?"
"I didn't catch all of their names, but there was a Kota and a Yuto, and one of the boys is Nobuyuki Fukui's cousin."
"Probably Kota Fukuhara and Yuto Suda, whose fathers sit on the Finance Committee of the Central Chambers." The captain shakes his head. "What party was this and how did you get in?"
Hisana shrugs. "My roommate begged me to go with her. Trust me, no one gave me a personal invitation."
"Who's your roommate?"
"Tsuna Sasaki."
The captain's gaze flits to the door. "This is salvageable. When the Second's man comes in here to question you, tell them that you spent the night with Byakuya. Don't be coy. Say his full name. Be crude if you must to get the point across. His name will spare you a lot of grief."
Hisana nods her understanding. "And the Tribunal?"
"If you can, convince the boys to pay each other back. Hopefully, their parents intervene to stay the Academy's hand."
"If they don't, and I have to go before the Tribunal?"
"They'll expel you," the captain says with a heavy breath.
Before she can give a hopeful look, he adds, "But, that won't happen."
"Why?"
"Me."
"Why do you care?" she grumbles under her breath.
"I made a promise to a friend."
"You can't possibly be referring to the night of the art exhibit with Lord Kuchiki—"
"No. It's not that promise. Trust me, I would've left you to the wolves if that was the case," he grumbles under his breath.
She squints an eye at him. "Same promiser?" When he doesn't correct her, she shakes her head and says, "Lord Kuchiki hated me, there's no way—"
"He didn't hate you in the end."
Hisana considers whether to be crass and note that Sōjun Kuchiki is very much past tense, but she knows this will needlessly piss off the captain, who is only trying to help her. She also knows his pat retort back to would be that promises made to dead men are still promises, and she very much agrees with that sentiment.
So, instead, she asks, "What was the promise?"
"You don't get to know."
"Did it involve Byakuya?"
"It did." His jaw clenches. "And that's the last question of yours I'm answering," he says sternly before leaving.