It took Byakuya all of three flashsteps to get from his office chair to his manor gates. He didn't have to use flashstep to get here, and if he wasn't so exhausted, he estimated that it would take him two and one-quarter steps to arrive at the same location over the exact distance, but he could use the exercise. He's proud of his skills as a Flashmaster, and at his young age at that. It's impressive to not only understand the complicated machinations of how to maneuver one's body to overcome the administration of gravity, the laws of physics, and quantum relativity but to elude light and shadow as well.
When one performs flashstep, what they're doing is essentially taking a shortcut between reality and space, with distance and time acting as observers from the sidelines.
Expelling an exhale, Byakuya walks calmly through the towering gates of Kuchiki Manor. The guards bow their dark heads in deference with respectful "good evening, Lord Kuchiki-Sama." and "Welcome home, Lord Kuchiki-Sama."
Byakuya's reaction in return is to keep silent, aloof, and impassive. His role as Lord Kuchiki is to be above it all, untouchable regardless of the circumstances. Many whisper, calling his actions propaganda. Hypocritical. Their whispers were even louder when he began courting Hisana. He casts those distasteful times from his mind with mental effort.
How can he be above it all when he lowers himself to wallow with common filth? Byakuya recalls one particular poisonous whisper dug up from the past, walking alongside him in his memories in the here and now. It pained him then as it does now, the look of hurt on his beloved's face as she got more and more hatred aimed at her for being with him—for loving me.
Hisana almost left him before they were wed because of the stinging poison spat from the mouths of nobles and servants alike. How useless he was back then to shield her from it all.
Byakuya mentally shook himself from the strangling vines of the past, cloaking himself in indifference. He didn't need anyone reading what the Lord of the Manor's problems were on his face. There were always too many of them.
For Byakuya, whether through propaganda or hypocrisy, he couldn't allow the world around him to know that he's only one man. He couldn't afford to lose face, no matter what.
Collapsing the memories in a heap in his mind, Byakuya focuses on his spatial awareness. His surroundings, seemingly secure in the eyes of the simple, can conceal daggers aplenty for the Lord of the Manor. Call him paranoid, but there have been too many attempts on his life throughout his 250 years for him to be less than vigilant.
Too many attempted assassinations, poisonings, knievings, kidnappings, and sexual assaults from both women and men, and the despicable list continues much to his disquiet. If Byakuya could, he would have forced himself to forget it all, to bury everything in the past where they occurred. But he can't do that. He couldn't just paint a clean slate over the lessons of the past and call it over and done with it.
A spiritual pressure bushed up against the perimeter of his awareness, but Byakuya continued walking as if he hadn't noticed. Another spiritual reiatsu appeared, then another. Before the guards of his household opened the twin ivory gates of the Main Estate, eight spiritual pressures were following his presence discreetly to his private gardens in front of his chambers.
Servants with heads bowed low greeted the Lord of the Manor, telling him mundane things. When the evening meal will be ready. That his bath is already prepared. Who seeks an audience with him, enquiring if he will entertain such interactions. In truth, he was too stretched as it is to siphon off pieces of his time to meaningless, tedious pretensions between nobles with too much time on their hands.
He told the servants to veto all of his engagements for the remainder of the evening. If there were hurt feelings and bruised egos, he could deal with those at another time.
All eight reiatsus stopped when he did, then waited as Byakuya changed footwear at his doorstep. A servant eased the soft house slippers onto his socked feet and bowed when the task was complete before asking if there was anything more to be done. When Byakuya indicated there were none at present, they dismissed themselves. They left Byakuya alone, unaware of the eight other presence surrounding him—eight shadow shinigami. The eight spies of the Lord of the Manor.
As if they were all part of one body, Byakuya felt all of them kneel in a semi-circle behind him in unison. The hung lamps lit on the verandah sent their glow out, casting spheres of light out into the garden, yet if Byakuya were to face the wide-open area at his back, he would see no one. These eight are the elite of the Kuchiki household's main branch. Apart from his grandfather (who vetted and recruited them rigorously) before Byakuya, a greenhorn at the time who didn't know what to do with 'A' spy, much less a network of them, no one else knew these eight existed to serve the head of the clan alone. Not even Hisana knew of their existence; Rukia more so.
Each spy has specific targets: one watches Kaito's household, another watches Mito's household—an Elder lady of the clan. Byakuya wouldn't say she's dangerous, but her words are influential. When Mito-Sama speaks, everyone listens, and her words carry much weight. Two spies observe the lesser cadet branches, another two for the households of other clans, and one to monitor the Goeti 13. Then, lastly, a spy is assigned to Rukia personally, the only female spy in the group.
50 years ago, this spy first reported to Byakuya about a young girl who looked just like his dead wife on the grounds of the academy.
She had to have thought Rukia was a ghost when she first saw her face since she was charged with watching over Hisana, too.
Immediately, he'd charge the female to seek out every detail about the girl. When Rukia was adopted, the spy's orders were to observe, never to engage, and those orders remain the same to this moment. Every detail regarding Rukia, this spy made it her business to know and inform him about. Byakuya, as a result, knew every time the girl cried at night, whenever she ran afoul of disrespectful servants and nobles, and how tart Rukia's tongue could be. He expected no less from someone raised on the streets. However, sometimes her words can truly surprise even him. Byakuya choked on his tea one morning when his spy reported to his ears that his sister told a nobleman she found annoying to "go piss up a rope."
He knew each time she sped to the labyrinth of the wine cellars, hiding between the giant wine barrels, bawling her eyes out when the venomous whispers from servants and nobles alike got so loud she could no longer ignore them anymore and all she could do was cry on her own shoulders to ease her frustrations. Then, when she'd cleansed her emotions, Rukia would brush herself off and get back out into this world of vipers to face the music once more.
Byakuya admires Rukia's resilience. Vicariously, he's watched her grow from a vile-mouthed vulgarity to matching wits with the upper echelons of the nobility in political arguments, proverbs, and poetry—though she's still rough around the edges, in his opinion. Over the decades, he's watched her try and fail and fail again, but she's never stopped trying.
Byakuya cocks his head to the left in the direction of the nearest spies. If they begin their report with anything but "target assigned or sources relate," then he has cause to suspect that an infiltrator has wormed their way into his inner circle. This suspicion is an automatic death sentence, but Byakuya, contrary to rumors, is not so bloodthirsty or quick to draw his sword. The Elders would've been killed this morning had that been his true personality.
To prevent such a circumstance, Byakuya chooses to locate his employees by their spiritual reiatsus over all other inspections. You can change many things: your face, your clothing, and even your speech pattern. However, a spiritual signature is not something anyone can change to be someone else's. It can be suppressed, yes, even varied with emotions, but not changed completely.
"Report," Byakuya commanded so silently—the scantest whisper on the wind.
"Source relates," came a whispering male's voice from his left, "murmurs of outrage following this morning's meeting and the incident that caused its abrupt conclusion, my Lord."
It's difficult to tell, but Byakuya could have sworn the man had a smile in his tone. It didn't please him if others believed he was in the right to beat down an old man loose with his tongue. He felt chagrined at his actions and at how he lost his temper; injected with anger, he lost his composure easily. How rage possessed him so completely that he forgot himself and what he represented. By now, gossip about the incident must be burning through the grapevine among nobles and commoners alike.
"Sources relate, my Lord," the male continued, "that the murmurs are split down the middle, with some nobles embarrassed by your response and others believing that Kaito-Sama got off easy for his...indelicacy."
"Indelicacy?" Byakuya couldn't help but scoff at that.
So, Kaito should have put in what was said in a more digestible manner for me to swallow? That's what they're saying.
"Target Assigned," another voice whispers on the wind. The spy Byakuya assigned to Kaito's household states, "is not taking the (in his word, my Lord)" the spy demurred, "this indignity from that arrogant fucking brat—with grace and reflection on his actions."
"Arrogant? Brat? Me?" Byakuya could only manage those three words. It irritated him how quickly the heat of anger reignited in his spirit, his emotional governance still being stitched back together on the heels of the morning's disaster of a meeting.
I should have been over this by now. Byakuya chided himself for allowing his control to slip for so long already. He inhaled deeply for calm, though 'calm' seemed as if it dwells leagues from his grasp at the moment.
"Target assigned's exact words, my Lord."
Exhaling a breath, Byakuya hissed, "Yes, I am clear on that."
"Target assigned's son's actions," the report went on, "indicate preparations for a meeting with my Lord at the earliest opportunity. A letter was intercepted between servant and messenger, expressing apologies on his father's behalf."
"Was that all the contents of the letter?" Byakuya asked his spy.
There was a breath of hesitation before the man continued after softly clearing his throat. "The letter went on to say that Kalon-Sama will personally make offerings at his expense for Lady Hisana-Sama's soul now in the aether following the remarks from his 'aged' father. He is also offering to host a ball in honor of Lady Rukia at midsummer as a means to make amends and to celebrate her coming into the age of maturity. This letter will arrive by the morn, along with an invite to tea two afternoons from today, my Lord."
Byakuya took all the report had to offer in stride. The manipulations and scheming of Kalon Kuchiki aren't anything new. He's been this way ever since they were children. Byakuya felt a headache coming on at full speed. If he had to choose between eating cacti raw rather than drinking tea with Kalon Kuchiki—that pretentious prick—Byakuya would have his fork and knife ready and waiting to be served his meal.
But he couldn't refuse, unfortunately. He knew well that he shouldn't. Part of the reason he instructed his spy to share the details of the intercepted letter among the nine of them was to indicate the plot in the simple, seemingly gracious, and humble wording.
Dissecting the letter is easy enough; two afternoons from now meant that Kalon and his household were observing the grave insult dealt by the patriarch of their cadet branch to the Head of the Clan. And they're graciously allowing time to heal the emotional eruptions between households. Kalon's offering to Hisana's soul is a special slap in the face for Byakuya. It wasn't so long ago that his ears received a report of all the vile things he and his 'gentlemen' of noble bearing had to say about his wife. What they would do to her if they had her alone in a privy. And how receptive she would be to their efforts since it wouldn't be anything new for someone like her to do with multiple men at the same time.
Byakuya closed his eyes and inhaled a calming breath. Just remembering that report about his cousin made Byakuya that much more hateful of Kalon Kuchiki.
And a ball for Rukia?
Byakuya scoffed at that. My sister hates parties more than anything, something we have in common. Nothing would make her more uncomfortable.
Of course, that was the point.
Kalon's antics will seem to others in the nobility as courteous and respectful to the dead. A salve to the wound that his father had viciously and rudely reopened for Byakuya, with such desecration to his late wife's memory. A meeting in two days allows for civility to bloom in the face of insults and hurt feelings between high-ranking representatives of the Kuchiki Clan.
If Byakuya refuses that invitation, it will be seen as discourteous. A disgraceful showing as a leader. That's the messy angle about leadership: you never get to do what you want. To be a great leader, you'll never think only about yourself. You'll always think about the collective whole, never just one slice of the pie.
"I see," Byakuya replied flatly.
That means Rukia will go to that ball.
He listens to the rest of the reports about the clans and their behavioral patterns, mostly gossiping about the proposed idea for him to marry Rukia.
So much for clandestine.
His spies told him about the outraged noblewomen who'd always had him specially reserved in their shallow little hearts. Byakuya didn't care about them or their reservations for him, but he couldn't ignore them or their schemes either. They might go after Rukia, taking the opportunity to vent their 'hurt' feelings toward his sister. He told his spy to keep a close eye on the situation. Rukia is no shrinking violet, and she wouldn't shy away from drawing her sword when she must, but there are more than one dangerous way to express one's displeasure without resorting to violence.
"Target assigned," The final report comes from the female spy.
"Report," Byakuya commanded, tilting his head to the right over his shoulder to where he felt her spiritual pressure.
A sigh came on the breeze, and Byakuya felt his spine stiffen, a pricking of anxiety racing electrifyingly to the nape of his neck, making the hairs there stand on ends. He'd heard that sigh before and knew that it never meant anything good was coming his way.
"What is it?" Byakuya asked slowly and pointedly, doing his best to strangle the rising panic before he lost his nerve.
"Target assigned was present for the duration of this morning's meeting after being dismissed from the meeting hall."
It took a second for the implications of what the spy just reported to register in Byakuya's brain.
"Target assigned listened for 2 minutes and 20 seconds, time enough to hear all that was said from Lord Kaito-Sama before leaving directly for her duties at Squad 13."
Byakuya bit back a curse. He understood that she wouldn't be left in the dark about this, but still...
His spies knew to keep their opinions to themselves while they addressed him in these matters, but this report caused a chain reaction of "ouch" and uncomfortable grunts. Anyone in the Goeti 13 knows that duties, particularly for an unseated officer, come with levels of difficulty no one on the outside looking in could understand. It's a life-or-death job with no warning in between.
One spy was bold enough to say, "Talk about a shitty start to a shitty day," before hurriedly clearing his throat and mumbling apologies, remembering in whom's presence he was.
The woman cleared her throat pointedly: "My Lord, observer noted that target assigned's spiritual reiatsu became more erratic during her trek to Squad 13's barracks."
"I would be impressed if it wasn't," Byakuya exhaled with a gust of breath. To listen to such slander before taking on duties at the Goeti 13?
Seven hells!
Byakuya can speak from experience that today was miserable for him. His reiatsu was all over the place. He had to wrestle with himself all day for calm and control. Even as he stood here in the quiet darkness, Byakuya felt like he was barely back to normal.
"Observer has more to report, my Lord," the spied continued. "On arrival at Squad 13's barracks, target assigned received orders from Squad 13's third seat to regroup."
"Why?" Byakuya asks simply. A rumor whispered through his barracks today while he was at the training grounds working off his stress against some unfortunate targets. With his enthusiasm for his goal to surpass his captain leading him by the nose, one of these 'unfortunate' targets was Renji . He heard his subordinates whispering something about a hollow incursion near the Rukon district, but there were no official reports yet. That is close to Squad 13's barracks. Ice formed in the pit of Byakuya's stomach. In a few seconds, the rest of the report justified the icy dread he was feeling.
"Hollow incursion. A score of class fives to sevens plus two Menos Grande, my Lord."
Byakuya was just thinking. Do not tell me! Please do not tell me that Rukia went by herself. She wouldn't be so reckless!
When the female spy sighed again, deeper this time than the first,Byakua knew the answer to his unspoken questions before she spoke.
"Target assigned refused the order to regroup, my Lord."
That made Byakuya spin on his heels in the direction of the female spy. He felt the blood drain from his stoney face.
"Upon hearing the report from her third seat, target assigned released her Shikai, then flash stepped in the direction where the hollows were spotted."
Byakuya wasn't sure when he flashstepped between the veranda to tower over the kneeling female spy, now cowering before him because it began raining and his terrible reiatsu fell all around them.
How reckless can she get?
The stupidity was breathtaking. Audacious even! He sensed the fear he was putting into his employees, but he wasn't angry with them. In truth, he wasn't sure with whom he should be more incensed: Rukia? or her captain for letting her go into battle like that? Or himself for not noticing that his sister was right behind him, listening to every word that snake-faced Kaito spat like acid at her back. Ever since this morning's meeting, his prime emotional response seems to be anger—raw and elusive from his control.
"Where is she?" His voice sounded soft, deadly, and menacing in his hearing.
"On assignment..." the female spy trailed off, struggling to respond to him. "In the World of the Living, my Lord." She gasped.
It stopped raining reiatsu immediately, and the air became breathable once more.
"What? Why go to the World of the Living? What does the assignment entail?" Byakuya fired off rapidly, barely able to wait for the spy to give him an answer he could digest.
His brows furrowed deep in thought, his mind painting pictures of Rukia's limbs torn off by the hollows—or has she sustained injuries beyond the medical dexterity of Captain Unohana to handle? The mortal girl Orihime Inoue's time-reversal abilities would be beneficial in restoring Rukia.
Byakuya stops himself from making more assumptions. He needed concrete facts, not panic. His eyes needed to see Rukia before he drove himself mad with worry over her. He didn't need to be a wreck right now. With effort, Byakuya calmed himself down, the ripples of thought in his mind dying down.
"My Lord," the spy put a hand on her chest, breathing in gulps of crisp air, "Observer noted that Captain Ukitake dispensed this assignment not as a punishment but as a reprieve."
"Reprieve?" Byakuya's tone was puzzled. The news shut his panicking thoughts up, and then his pissed-off mood came back with a vengeance. "As a captain of the Goeti 13, it's not difficult to sense infrequencies in spiritual pressures from miles out! Why in the all Seireitei didn't that white-haired old man intercept her long before she arrived at the outer gates of the barracks? A captain should be able to gauge the limitations of those under him. Yet he allows her to enter a battlefield in that state of emotional unrest to get herself killed! Or maimed or worse."
When the eruption of his emotions calmed again, the female spoke again after clearing her throat delicately. "It may interest my Lord to know that by the time reinforcements arrived on the scene, they were put to better use to police the field and as a clean-up party rather than a rescue operation."
Byakuya's lips parted wordlessly.
"Target assigned dispatched sixteen hollows, including one Menos Grande on her own."
Byakuya just stopped a curse from flying out of his mouth. A dark brow arched, the only indication on his face that he was impressed by this news.
"Though target assigned sustained injuries in the engagement, these are minor and were treated by a squad 13 medic."
Byakuya eyed the female, bowing her head at his feet.
Is that pride in her voice?
"Observer concludes that target assigned behavioral pattern resembles one that was quite vexed and required an outlet, my Lord, to exercise her frustrations."
Byakuya turned his back to the spies, walking slowly back to the veranda. "And when did it become your responsibility to make excuses for your assigned?"
"Forgiveness, my Lord. I've overstepped."
"Dismissed." Byakuya said flatly.
As one, they uttered in ghostly whispers, "My Lord," and Byakuya felt their spiritual pressures fade into the distance.
For the love of my sanity, will this day ever end?
Not that the sun will dawn with a clean slate tomorrow, but still.
"When it rains, it pours, and these days it seems like it never stops raining," Byakuya remarked to the empty garden.
Tomorrow will give him a new set of challenges, with today's unfinished ones at the top of the list.