A baby?
Replaying that word over and again in her head as panic assailed her would go down better with a well-aged bottle of sake—maybe two.
Kids are cute little monsters that make you want to protect them, do stupid things to make them feel happy, that somehow convince you that you're happy to be an idiot. But she wasn't ready for that stage of her life, and when she was, it would be her choice. What did this meeting's 'most pressing issue' have to do with her? An unbidden thought arose in her mind, but as quickly as it bubbled, Rukia swatted it back down. She's the adopted one! Adopted. One. HELLO?
You, people, don't even accept me.
Acceptance? More to the tune of barely acknowledged tolerance, vale before sneers, and that's when her brother was about, which wasn't often. There was no way that they expected her to have an heir for the clan. She had a career to focus on, one she had worked damn hard at it too. Lots and lots of hollow slaying involved and all that. Training and paperwork are pains in the ass. Literally! Ever written a 500-page report thirty times by hand while sitting for hours in a wooden office chair? No?
"If only we had computers and printers like in the World of the Living," she had lamented at the time, her left cheek ink-stained, planted on her writing desk.
Rukia never heard of the term 'sleeping ass' until she joined the ranks of the Gotei Thirteen, working her way up to her current position.
A baby is not what she's rallying for at the moment. Maybe one day. 'Maybe' she'll survive her battles long enough to consider a little carbon copy of her personality and that of her husband's, but not now. Not after all she's pushed through to get to where she is right now. Her dream of being a respected and seated Shinigami officer is paramount. Baby-maker? Not so much.
No one said anything about you, Rukia. She reassures herself, striving for calm in the tumult of anxiety threatening to rob her of the impassiveness painted into her face before these prunes. Just relax.
Her eyes moved from one wrinkled face to the next, hoping that she wasn't wearing her feelings on her face. They were so poised, so serene; she couldn't tell what they were thinking. Rukia didn't want to be the only one being open-book here.
"As Elders of this clan," someone was saying.
It's that snake-faced one, Rukia thought.
For some reason, she couldn't recall his name and desperately hoped he wouldn't address her directly. That would mean showing the proper respect for title and name. The title she has down with ease. Not hard to remember, 'honorable Elder.' Rukia doubted the man speaking would take 'so and so' after his title with grace.
If you're going to kiss ass, you better have the technique down pat.
Besides, if she showed dishonor to the Elders by not remembering their proper names, it would embarrass her brother.
May the heavens weep openly on that day for their son's pride. Rukia's thoughts drip with the sardonic sauce she usually applies when she thinks about Byakuya in this capacity.
It's not as though she's ever faced any embarrassment. Oh...wait.
How about being ridiculed by nobles, some of whom were present at this very meeting, who immediately saw the awkwardness in their sibling relationship?
How about being lied to about the sister she never knew she had when all the servants knew about it, all the Elders knew about it, and she was the only one left out of the loop?
How about being ignored for more than forty years or so? That one never gets old.
How about being wrongly sentenced to death before the entire Seireitei and her brother, who practically has power and influence in his back pocket like nobody's business, refused to even appeal her case?
Oh No! Who? Rukia Kuchiki has never, ever, never 'been subjected' to embarrassment before.
The forecast in her brain must be raining sarcasm.
Before that rain muddied her emotions into anger and resentment for the man seated beside her enough to bleed into her spiritual pressure, Rukia's thoughts flickered to a teenage boy.
Thinking about her time with him has this magical ability to switch her mood, most times for the better—unless she was pissed at him. Thinking about Ichigo, with his orange hair and that cocky attitude of his, and even their arguments, nearly lost her 'her poker' face, her lips quirking a little. No one was looking in her direction either way. No one ever did unless she was directly addressing or being addressed, and those were rare in these meetings with the Elders.
Snake-face was droning on about something that had nothing to do with her, but she was still listening in case someone decided to be a pain just to test her, checking to see if she was paying attention.
A pang in her chest bloomed at the memory of her companion, reminding Rukia of how much she misses Ichigo. Though a century and five decades separated them in age, she felt like herself the most around him.
Fighting enemies together, going to school together, and sharing each other's company while talking or in silence felt as natural as breathing to Rukia, unlike this situation.
Removing her mind from the musings of the past, Rukia focuses on the present just in time to fully catch the next sentence spoken by the Elder in his reedy voice. Before, she was only collecting the salient points of the meeting; now she's opening her ears fully.
"Self-preservation will be maintained within the Kuchiki main household," Snaked-face said insistently, pausing for a breath's span to look from her to Byakuya.
Listening to someone as impersonal as this Elder lecturing you on your lack of intimacy must be galling to Byakuya. To add salt to the wound, her brother is a handsome man desired by many women in the Gotei 13 and women of noble bearing. Yet, since her sister died all those many years ago, there's no evidence of him even giving another woman a second glance.
Rukia would bet her favorite plushy that the Elders would be over the moon if they caught wind of a rumor of Byakuya even siring an illegitimate child from some nobody prostitute; they were that desperate—the scandal be damned.
Rukia couldn't say that she blamed the man. At the end of the day, it's his choice if he wants to be in a relationship with someone. Plus, going from living your best life, making choices for your approval, and enjoying your solitude—if that's what Byakuya is doing— Hells! She didn't know—to constantly be aware of another's wants, needs, and emotional constitution can be strenuous. Most of the time, it's one-sided. Unless both parties are compatible, like the other half of the same moon, then maybe it's worth it. At least, that's her opinion based on her observations; never having had a boyfriend to test her observational theories on, there may be holes in her theory.
Nobles are persnickety when it comes to the realm of courtship. With her being a Kuchiki, where hints of scandalous behaviors, real or assumed, can blow up like a nuclear bomb with everyone gossiping about propriety getting dusty on its pedestal, Rukia is extra cautious of her actions.
A hundred and fifty-year-old virgin in more ways than just being sexually untutored.
Outside of her duties, she couldn't be alone with males in a private capacity unless it was her brother or she was chaperoned.
Not that she'd ever felt cheated by the experience. Keeping her name out of the mouths of the noble sewing circles as much as possible is an achievement she strives for.
No matter how impossible that achievement is.
How no one found out that she was sleeping in the same room as Ichigo was a miracle. Whether in the World of the Living or not, gossip is omniscient.
The moment he chose to adopt her into the aristocracy, Byakuya made certain to introduce her to the noble bluebloods' palettes. From there on out, it's been one long banquet at her expense.
Even before a glimmer of wealth and status was in her future, as a resident of Hanging Dog, Rukia understood that relationships of a sexual nature for women before marriage are usually treated with delicacy. Choose the wrong guy to do the deed with, and he'll run his mouth to his friends, making public everything that went on in privacy.
No thanks!
Rukia's seen too many girls in the Rukon district get publicly shamed and branded in unsavory terms because they were quick to trust the wrong partner. Learning from an early age from their mistakes, her legs remained shut and her body covered, even if that coverage was with threadbare rags.
"This is the reason we've called this meeting. The Kuchiki bloodline must prosper into the future. This council moves to have both Byakuya-Sama and Rukia-Sama join as one to achieve this goal, as the Kuchiki custom of old demands."
Rukia forgot how to breathe.
Byakuya struggles for patience because he's on the brink of committing mass murder. His slender fingers on his thighs flexed for the hilt of his sword, Senbonzakura, which lay parallel to his folded legs. He is a hair's breadth away from unsheathing it.
What in all the Seireitei convinced these fools that this was a good idea to propose to him? They're insisting that he wed Rukia? To breed on her and beget heirs. His sister!
Thankfully, he wasn't standing; he might have swayed on his feet at that announcement.
Byakuya heard a strangled cry coming from Rukia, and he couldn't begin to imagine the embarrassment of having to listen to the stupidest utterance he'd ever heard. A not-so-subtle "you're therefore ordered to breed with your brother!"
My resolve is about to snap. These old fools want me to commit mass murder. They no longer long for this life, I can see.
Anger. By all that was within him, Byakuya felt so angry. How dare they?!
He was about to see red coloring his vision, something that hadn't happened to him since the days of his youth. Byakuya tries to maintain his composure on the surface, even as he boils on the inside. Why would they do something like this? Logic, reason, and calm—Byakuya knew that he needed to grasp these. Something else is afoot here.
That thread of reason got thicker when he picked out a few smug faces smirking at him. They must understand that they were teetering on the razor's edge of his now fragile patience, don't they?
They want me to do something rash and uncharacteristic. Why?
To depose him of any say in the matter? He's the head of the Kuchiki Clan. Nothing is going to change that until he dies. His word alone is the final say on any matter!
So why go through all of these charades to provoke him?
Political expediency and deep-seated tradition dictated that he maintain a council of elders. Byakuya couldn't do everything himself in such a large clan as the Kuchiki Main Branch and the Cadet Houses. But if these are the solutions they're going to come up with, they were inspiring him to reconsider their usefulness.
What in six hells could they be up to? Byakuya's thoughts raced. And why Rukia? She didn't fit here. She's not from a cadet branch of the Kuchiki bloodline, so that snippet about custom is out of context.
Byakuya was yet to speak; his heated emotions were locked behind his gritted teeth while a muscle in his jaw ticked beyond his control. His spiritual pressure was as inactive as the sword by his side. He would go to the training grounds at Squad Six barracks directly after this 'meeting.' Here, Byakuya would pretend that each of his targets was a member of the Kuchiki Elder Council.
Hisana had been dead for some time, but that didn't mean he was about to pass the mantle to Rukia. How could they even ask this of him? She is his sister, for goodness sake, and to be with her like...that.
Furious! He's rarely felt this much fury. It was dangerous when a soul got into a state like this. For a second or three, Byakuya felt dazed. It frightened him that he was unaware of when exactly he got to his feet with his sword in his fingers, though he knew why he was squeezing the hilt with such a decisive grip. All eyes were on him. Byakuya heard collective gasps released around the hall. He hadn't even released his sword from its sheath yet. He made an effort to calm himself down as much as possible.
Feeling the spiritual pressures flowing around him, Byakuya picks up fear and anxiety, but there is also anticipation. In readiness in case he attacks? Ah! But can they defend should he make that decision?
Unlikely.
Fixing all before him with an icy glare, Byakuya informed the hall with all the calm he did not feel,
"This charade of a meeting is over." His steely voice brokered no argument, a dead quiet descending onto the large meeting hall, while outside, in the gardens, no leaves rustling, no breeze casually interrupting this stillness.
The fact that his spiritual pressure was not cracking the walls with floor-to-ceiling fissures three times the width of his arm must alarm the Elders, who were anticipating his anger instead of this. Whatever it was, it wasn't calm. His wrath was at the ready, just simmering under the surface but controlled, so much so that he felt cold inside.
"As the Head of the Kuchiki Clan, I reject this proposal by the Council of Elders."
Without turning to Rukia, who was still seated, Byakuya commanded, "Attend to your duties, Rukia."
From the corner of his eye, he spied how red Rukia's face was from embarrassment. The blush spread down to her neck, disappearing under the lining of her uniform.
"T-Thank you, N-Nii-Sama." She stuttered.
The girl all but flash stepped away from the hall after a quick but respectful bow of her head, first to him, then to the members of the Elder Council. Byakuya was sure she did after disappearing out of sight. The elders would have garnered pleasure from seeing her run from the hall like a scolded servant. Byakuya was pleased as she walked out of this place as dignified as she could, despite their best efforts to heap filth upon her under the guise of 'custom.'
Alone with more than a dozen pairs of eyes looking at him, Byakuya turned to them once more; his ire fiery hot.
"Do. Not. Ever," Byakuya warns his audience slowly, coldly, "do something like this again."
The Elder who spoke last took a challenging step toward him. Their heights were the same. The man was built with the same shoulder width as Byakuya. However, the Elder wears an even colder expression alighted in his dark green gaze than what Byakuya usually wears, set in a face with so many wrinkles that he reminded the younger Kuchiki of the bark of an ancient tree.
Kaito.
He is one of the first Elders of the council and one of the most formidable. Byakuya took a deep, calming breath, gasping, needing to gather logic and reason about him like a shield, or he was going to draw his sword any moment now.