By the time Byakuya made it to his office, he was seething inside. People stayed out of his way—literally—fleeing after sensing his low, menacing spiritual pressure before they'd caught a glimpse of him.

When the captain enters the barracks, subordinates line the walls in the corridors of Squad Six, bowing their heads out of respect for his station, as is proper. As Byakuya approaches, he registers numerous spiritual pressures, just as they made themselves scarce to prevent an encounter with him, like a school of fish darting away, sensing an unnatural disturbance.

He didn't blame them.

At this very moment, his control, patience, and emotional governance were in tatters. His knuckles were bleeding on his right hand, shame suffusing him at the thought of his actions just minutes before in the meeting hall.

Damn Kaito! Damn the lot of them for this!

As Byakuya suspected, the proposal for him to marry Rukia was a screen for the actual plot.

Kaito and the Elder Council knew he would never, in three millennia, agree to marry his sister. Such a move like that would bring down a scandal, the likes of which would rock the Seireitei on its foundations, not to mention the nobility.

Dissolving Rukia's adoption and changing his role from guardian and brother to lover and husband would bring shame down on his house. Everyone would immediately assume that he and Rukia have been entertaining secret liaisons or a sexual relationship under the fiction of brother and sister. Though a lie, it will be damaging to Rukia.

As a woman, with propriety at stake, as society insists upon, she will bear the brunt of the scorn, unfair as that is. Being the head of the household, Byakuya could, essentially, do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted. In theory, if he were a rogue, the most he'd have gotten would be a token protest from the Council Elders—maybe not so much as that, given Rukia's origins.

Each council member is the leader of their cadet branch. Through a system of votes, decisions are made that affect the entire clan, with Byakuya's voice having the final say on any motion.

Today, he didn't use his voice to cast aside the elders 'council'. He would have lost the argument.

I lost my argument either way.

Though it rubs Byakuya the wrong way to admit it, his actions up to this point drove the Elders to resort to 'necessary measures,' as they phrased it. He understands their misgivings and shoulders the responsibility for what pushed his kinsman into this corner.

He hasn't remarried. He hasn't sired any heirs, legitimately or not. Except for his wife for those brief years, in all his two hundred and fifty years, Byakuya Kuchiki has never entertained a lover in his bed. And when Hisanna left this world, he had no interest in anything along the lines of intimacy.

To their credit, the Elders had tried different avenues to see to their charge. They arranged balls, fêtes, tea parties, and tournaments, inviting the noble hierarchies and their eligible daughters in hopes that he would meet with a young woman of noble bearing. Byakuya would attend as a matter of showing his face, then leave once he'd made enough of an appearance to spark gossip.

Like attires laid out by servants on his bed, the council had selected noblewomen out for him 'to get to know, two years after Hisanna died—their time measure for getting over the hurdle of grief. They had been lovely. One long, shallow parade of pompous powdered faces and rouge lips, self-important egos, and flattery competed for his attention and the chance to switch whatever their titles were to the shiny new one of 'Lady Kuchiki.' But when they each met his sister, most of them turned their noses up at Rukia, 'the gutter rat' he adopted into the noble house of Kuchiki. When they thought he was looking, they played nice with her, pretending to adore the girl, who was the last remnant of his late wife. When they felt he wasn't looking, the scene got disturbing. Byakuya has seen mangy dogs treated with more respect.

Now, he reflected on what would have happened had he considered their suitability a bit more. If he had vetted the young ladies enough to find one among them he could have entered into a political marriage with—loveless and for spectacle, as it would have been, but with mutual benefits for both houses.

Three hells! He could have stomached the act long enough to implant his seed to impregnate his bride, couldn't he? Maybe acquire some aphrodisiacs from the World of the Living to help with his performance? He would have pictured Hisanna's face when he gazed down at the stranger in her place under him. If he could've predicted that the council would have used a technicality in the Kuchiki laws against him. He didn't even know that such a thing could be done or in the Kuchiki customs. But that's no excuse.

'At the age of maturity, if the current head of the clan sires no heirs, then the next in line from a cadet branch would legally be entitled to the position as head of the clan should he or she be of the same age, rank, or station.'

Byakuya knew of this custom of the Kuchiki laws. In the event of his death, someone from the most influential cadet branch would be his successor if he didn't have one already named. He didn't. Not out of carelessness given his day job, but out of lack.

Byakuya was yet to find someone from the Kuchiki cadet branches who was not bloated with self-important arrogance and hell-bent on sucking up as much power as they could get. Even the less influential cadet branches scheme and plot pettily against one another.

If Rukia had been his blood sibling, the mantle as head of the clan would automatically pass down to her. Byakuya would have been grooming her with grueling daily lessons on the clan's history—more than she'd gotten during her first year after being adopted. And she hated those.

But Rukia, for all her wits and determination to fulfill her duties—traits he admires about her—shows no aspiration to be more involved with Kuchiki affairs than absolutely necessary. Byakuya didn't have that luxury.

With such a coveted position as head of the clan, Byakuya has to maintain a spy network dedicated to delivering essential tidbits and reporting to him daily. He has spies of spies that didn't even know that the information they garnered as they worked under their different guises—servants, cooks, scullery maids, gardeners, etc.—got fed back to the head of the very clan members they spied upon.

Byakuya couldn't claim to be a spymaster in all its methodical intrigues, which can get tedious. Still, he's adept enough to watch for assassination attempts, spies in his own house from other houses and his cadets' branches, sedition, sinister plots, coup d'etats, rapes, kidnappings, underhanded tactics, and the list continues. To top it off, he wasn't just watching for himself and his immediate household. He remained diligent for the weaker cadet branches with less influence that, if he weren't careful, would have been absorbed by the other branches instead of maintaining their independence.

Watching Kaito's cadet household is like having his breakfast every day. Byakuya and his spies actively keep vigilant due to the cadet house's actions in the past and their history of starting sedition in the clans against the Main Branch household some nine centuries back. Ginrei and Byakuya's father had nearly annihilated that entire branch—those who were not exiled outright. Believing that the cadet household could be playing the long game, the Main Branch has kept watch constantly, keeping the power dynamics in check and weary of betrayal.

Since Kaito became the head of the branch, taking over when his aged father committed seppuku in penance for his family's crimes against the main branch household, there's been no evidence of unsavory practices.

How could I not have seen this coming?

Anticipating the answer to their aggressive suggestion would be a hard 'NO', old snake face, and the rest of the council set up a counter-proposal, something Byakuya couldn't have predicted.

If Byakuya didn't dissolve her adoption and marry Rukia with the Kuchiki council's backing now—which would go a long way to smoothing ruffled feathers among the nobles, not only from the other great houses but also with cadet branches—then, by right of custom, Kaito's in position as the next in line. He would not take the position, however, at least not outright. Because of his age, the wily Elder would vote to install his son, Kalon Kuchiki, Byakuya's first cousin, as the next head of the clan by marrying Rukia off to him, thereby gaining more influence. Of course, Kalon would only be a figurehead while his father pulled the strings in the background.

Byakuya would rather see his sister dead on the battlefield than give her over to that artifice!

They want to use my sister as a bargaining chip to sink their claws into the main household.

Or, by contrast, trail her name through the mud should Byakuya marry her, so they'll have their heir. Either way, the council gets what it wants, and Rukia's reputation (which she's worked so hard to build up) gets compromised.

Either by the council or by me.

Entering his office and sliding the door shut, Byakuya took his seat in the uncomfortable wooden chair assigned to all with his rank and all lieutenants. It mimics the head captain's office chair. A sign of equality, though the power scales widely differ among the white cloaks and the lieutenants of the Gotei 13.

Resting both elbows on his desk, Byakuya pressed his face into his waiting palms, ignoring the protest of his right knuckles as flexing them sent pain signals through his arm. He inhales a deep breath and, holding it in his lungs, begins counting backward from twenty in his mind while slowly releasing the trapped air through his mouth. Byakuya continues this breathing technique until the need to yell and tear at his hair abated long enough. In the process of calming down, Byakuya senses movement resuming around the barracks. As if time thawed the silence, slowly the barracks came back to life. Feet shuffled over the wooden floorboards; uniform clothing rustled; curiosity inked through spiritual reiatsus, maybe wondering why their ever-collected stoic captain's spiritual pressure was mad as all nine hells. It's not normal to see the captain of Squad Six get emotional. Only one other can claim to wrile him so, to shatter his mask of calm, and he lives in the World of the Living.

But unlike that brat, Byakuya couldn't just whip out his sword, hack things to bits like a barbarian, and then call it a day. In that, he envied the simpleton teenager; his problems were never beyond the point of his sword.

Keeping his eyes closed, Byakuya moves his fingers to his temples, massaging them slowly, continuing his deep inhalations; exhaling through his mouth.

"I thought I would find you here."

Byakuya's eyes snapped open, startled by the voice in his office. He dropped his hands immediately.

Ginrei was standing on the threshold of Byakuya's office, the door sliding wide enough to accommodate his slight build, now sunken with age. The man before him once towered over Byakuya. Ginrei was a powerful shinigami to be reckoned with. Now, their roles have been reversed with the passage of time.

"Grandfather!" Byakuya stood instantly, causing the wooden chair to scrape against the floor protestingly at the sudden movement.

The thin old man slid the panel door shut behind him as he shuffled into his former office. Wrinkled hands clasped behind his slightly stooped back.

"Lord Kuchiki-Sama," Ginrei greeted his grandson by his title with differential respect, accompanied by a bow of his gray head.

Byakuya bowed in reply, showing his respect in return.

His grandfather is the reason he has his title and is his strongest supporter. He may be burdened with age, but the man is not to be underestimated.

Byakuya's desk is opposite the only door in his office to the far wall. When he's seated behind his desk, he faces the threshold and can usually tell when someone approaches from three corridors down in any direction; his spiritual awareness far-reaching. Yet Ginrei slid his door open, then stood before him without Byakuya picking up on his reiatsu? Yes, his eyes were closed, but that makes spiritual energies more perceivable without the hindrance of sight.

Breaking the posture as their greeting ended, Ginrei turned, then walked to the window in silence.

Suddenly, it's as if Byakuya was a fresh-faced lieutenant again in service to his superior, Ginrei Kuchiki, the Captain of Squad Six.

Byakuya dreaded asking his grandfather why he was here. He's guessed the answer well enough.

"Grandfather," Byakuya begins, tentatively breaking the silence.

"I heard," Ginrei started, interrupting his grandson in his matter-of-fact gravelly voice, "that you punched Kaito in the face." The older man arched a salt and pepper brow as he turned his head in Byakuya's direction. "Repeatedly."

Byakuya hides his wince before taking a deep breath and blowing it out in a soft sigh. The instant his fist met Kaito's wrinkled jaw, he calculated that this was coming.

Ginrei was still waiting for him to comment, Byakuya realized, to defend himself as a matter of fairness before the judgment, much to his disquiet.

Byakuya bit the inside of his left cheek, feeling like a boy of fifteen winters and not a man in his first quarter millennium. He clears his throat. "I lost my temper."

"Where?" Ginrei asked innocently.

The question surprised Byakuya, making his brows collide confusedly in the center of his forehead. "I don't follow," he admitted.

"Where did you lose your temper, exactly?" Ginrei expanded his question, "Over a ravine? Down the open maw of a gully? In a deep trench at the bottom of the ocean somewhere in the World of the Living?"

Byakuya flushed with shame for his actions. How did he look before the Elders pummelling into an old man's face? Thinking about someone doing the same thing to Ginrei, and Byakuya wished he could sink into the floor like his Bankai.

"He insulted-" Byakuya started to explain through gritted teeth.

Ginrei unclasped his hands from behind his back to hold up a palm to stop him. "I am aware of what Kaito said. I heard every detail. Regardless of your reasons, and Kaito might have deserved the thrashing for his foolish words in your presence," Ginrei allowed, "it's reflecting poorly on you to behave like a tyrant to the people you are responsible for. It behooves the Kuchiki Clan's name to have its head knock the dentures out of a clan Elder advisor."

Byakuya didn't bother to hide his wince this time. "I will make an effort to amend the Main Branch's relationship with Kaito and his household if he apologizes before the council for his insolence."

"Apologize for what he said about Rukia-Sama or Hisanna-Sama." Ginrei gave Byakuya a quizzical look.

Byakuya gave him a deadpan look in return. "Both."

Ginrei's lips quirked slightly before turning back to whatever had his attention at the window.

Did grandfather just smirk? What does that mean? Byakuya was puzzled for a second, then, he let the thought go.

In an effort to change the subject, Byakuya asked after another few moments passed, "Were you aware of the council's proposal?"

His grandfather was absent for the counsel's meeting this morning, citing his reasons for skipping as "an unforeseen errand," for which he installed a trusted aid to act in his stead. When Ginrei says "unforeseen errand," that can mean anything from a hollow incursion to an internal dispute that required him to sit in as a mediator, or he was attending to his gardens on his estate. Given the lack of reports on the first two, Byakuya suspected the latter.

Today must be an exercise of my patience.

"I did," the older man answers easily, "it was I who recommended that you marry Rukia."

Byakuya's witty retort to that?

"What?"

Byakuya's hand fumbles for the uncomfortable chair and sits down before the strength in his knees deserts him.

"This must come as a surprise, considering that I was against her adoption in the beginning," Ginrei said evenly, walking away from the window of his old office, both hands tied behind his back once again. "And I advised against marrying her sister," the old man's voice was reminiscent, "but you did what you wanted to, ignoring the council's advice and my own. Against all the odds, she is now a part of this family, and she has responsibilities."

Surprise? Byakuya felt like someone had just throat-punched him. He could barely breathe. When had his life become a game of 'Annoy Byakuya until he went Bankai?'

He was still recovering from what his grandfather had just confessed, but maybe it was silly of him to feel this way. After all, Ginrei is a member of the Council of Elders. Why wouldn't he be a part of their discussions?

"Grandfather," Byakuya had to take a breath before continuing, "with all due respect, I've repudiated this...radical decision to alter mine and Rukia's lives."

Ginrei remained silent, keeping a fixed gray gaze on his grandson's face.

"I understand," Byakuya continued, amazed that his tone was so steady given the tumult of emotions clashing through his spirit right now, "that the council wants self-preservation to maintain the purity of the Kuchiki bloodline. What I find pointless is the inclusion of Rukia in this decision. She doesn't carry the blood in her veins. Why then-?"

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Ginrei's tone was wheezy and rhetorical: "You made that decision for Rukia from the moment you adopted her into this family. Many on the council thought that you would repeat your earlier mistake."

Byakuya stiffened. "Mistake?"

"Yes," Ginrei replied calmly.

Byakuya knew his grandfather was only retelling what council members said in private, away from the head's ears and eyes, and this was not something the man would divulge on a whim. His grandfather was only being honest with him, a rare quality among nobles. Byakuya bit his tongue and listened. After a moment, Ginrei continued.

"On the first anniversary of Hisanna's death, you found her sister."

Byakuya's chest heaved with a deep breath, reliving the day as if it were yesterday. The complexity of the feelings that roiled inside him upon seeing the girl's face for the first time; his mouth had gone dry, his heart drumming in his rib cage threateningly.

Hisanna!

Tears threatened to embarrass him in the company of the superintendent of Shinōreijutsuin Academy. But it was not his wife. The face was nearly identical, but that's where the similarities ended. Never had his late wife been so full of life.

Where Hisanna was frail and needed protection, Rukia was the complete opposite. As Byakuya watched this scrawny girl during a practice training session with wooden swords against their partners from a window high up in the superintendent's office, he could perceive the fiery vigor emanating from her very pores as she attacked opponents, larger and stronger than she.

Jealousy had strangled him at that moment. Jealousy that Hisanna's younger sister got every ounce of life and health that she had needed. He remembered thinking as he watched Rukia get knocked on her backside for the third time in less than two minutes by her red-headed, taller partner that it wasn't fair.

Then he resented that he was the one standing here and not Hisanna, who searched every day for her younger sister.

"We, myself included," Ginrei's voice intruded on his reminiscence, "believed that you were going to marry her, as you did her older sister, to cope with your grief. At least, those were the more savory arguments." The old man demurred.

Once again, the legs of the wooden chair scraped against the floorboards as Byakuya stood abruptly, palms balled into fists. "She was but a child!" he hissed through gritted teeth.

Having a shouting match in his office with ears growing from the walls would only aid the art of gossip against the Kuchiki Clan.

Keep it together. Get yourself under control. Byakuya thought, willing cooling reason to temper his hot anger.

"A girl that looks very much like your dearly departed wife? A girl with no family name. An urchin from the slums, no one would have batted an eye if your reasons for acquiring Rukia was for comfort and release." Ginrei's steady eyes met his grandson's glaring, stormy gaze.

His grandfather's tone held no inflection of judgment or scorn. He was relating conversations, the discussions between him and the council members or members of other noble houses, from years ago, yet the words still burned like a Hado spell.

"And when have I made a showing of being a scoundrel for them to assume that I would do such a thing?"

Ginrei shrugged nonchalantly: "People talk and make their assumptions. That's not something you can ever control. As they say in The World of the Living, 'when you're up on stage, be ready to accept both the roses and the rotten tomatoes."

"Then why suggest this now?" Byakuya asked after a stretch of silence, his eyes narrowing at his grandfather.

After all I've put her through? After she had to be rescued by a stranger from me? Blindly following the law, I nearly killed and threatened to kill the precious life my wife entrusted me with her last breath to find and protect.

Bile rose in his throat as his actions soured in his memories.

Ginrei strolled over to Byakuya's side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Looking up into his grandson's face, he told him,

"I raised a man of integrity."

Byakuya knew that when Ginrei started this speech, it meant the subject matter was closed. Unfair of him! Because it didn't feel close to Byakuya.

"I took a boy and raised a leader of men."

"Grandfather..." Byakuya swallowed, "I will not marry Rukia. I cannot marry my sister. How can you, of all people, think me capable of...?" Byakuya shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.

"Then you're condemning her to a bitter, miserable life because Kaito will, on legal grounds, force the match between Kalon and Rukia. She's at the age of maturity, no longer legally in need of a guardian's guidance."

He turns to leave, hands clasped behind his back, striding to the door. A few paces away, he stopped. Looking over his shoulder, Ginrei remarked, "I know the man I raised will do what's best for the collective whole regardless of the sacrifice."

Sliding the door open, Ginrei Kuchiki left. Leaving Byakuya in the hell of the situation he created.