Directly after the healers shut the door behind them and before he shattered it, Kaito checks his reflection in the polished mirror he had set up in a lone corner of his chambers, close to an open window. He had acquired the coveted item at great expense from the World of the Living. A one-of-a-kind item found in the Seireitei as far as he knew to date. Unlike what other nobles had in their residence, this full-length mirror is made from melted sand, found exclusively in the World of the Living, and compressed into a perfectly reflective surface. One can see their image down to the most minute details.
By the light of day streaming through the open window, Kaito sees that his left eye is purple, watery, puffy, and swollen shut. He was not prepared for the rest of what else the mirror had to show him.
The chief physician told him about the damages, but seeing himself in the mirror, it was as if he were looking at a distorted image, like that of a stranger with his body, only it had a disfigured face. His bottom lip is split open, needing reiatsu sutures to close the wound. This will allow the capillaries under the spiritual layer to heal completely.
According to the physician, with each impact against his body, the sharpness of Byakuya's spiritual pressure penetrated Kaito's skin, rupturing the network of nerves and spiritual flow wherever a blow landed. If proper precautions are not observed, the injuries may become crippling. He can lose his eye! The muscles under his jaw might not heal completely, resulting in permanent facial paralysis caused by inflamed nerves.
Kaito's chest heaved rapidly, and hot air flared from his nostrils, causing him discomfort in unique ways and making him experience exquisite pain from just breathing. The first jolt that danced in his facial muscles forced Kaito to steady his physical reactions instantly while his thoughts grew increasingly riled.
That bastard! Look what he's done to my face!
He wanted to yell in frustration and righteous anger. He needed an outlet to vent—someone to strike out at. Yet, at this moment, he was alone in his chambers. All that seems accomplishable for Kaito right now is to wait. Bake in his fury, husband his grudge, and wait for the opportune moment to make his next play. That's how he'll triumph over Byakuya Kuchiki. That's how Kaito will break that boy, more so than how he was the last time.
Kaito respects Byakuya's office as Head of the Clan and has freely offered his best council to the lad since he was a mere pup. Performing his duties for clan and head with the diligence and dignity befitting the temperament of a senior member of the Kuchiki Cadet Branches for centuries. However;
I never liked the brat from day one.
If it weren't for Byakuya's accident of birth and had fate progressed with its cards as it did, then Kaito would, by default, be the Head of the Clan right now.
Sōjun Kuchiki, Byakuya's father, was never in the best health to take over the clan; everyone knew it. But because he was Ginrei's son, he was selected anyway to take up the mantle of his patrimony. Yet, even if he hadn't been fatally stabbed in the stomach that day in battle, he wouldn't have lasted long as the head of the clan, not with his constitution. The responsibilities and the lifestyle are too great for him to handle. It was happen-stance that he managed to breed on his wife to beget Byakuya, the little pest!
The one who dared to raise his hand against me? An Elder advisor! Never in the history of the Great Houses has such action taken place. The humiliation is too profound, too much for me to fathom.
With little motivation, pain explodes under his skin. The tiniest movements of a facial muscle send a network of receptors skipping across Kaito Kuchiki's face with excruciating enthusiasm.
It hurts! Thirteen hells! It hurts so.
The healers from the clan had done what they could for him. However skilled their techniques were, the pain stubbornly persisted.
Useless! Garbage, the lot of them. Kaito thought, vehement rage impotently boiling through his spirit. Their incompetence sickens him. Disgust for their lack disturbs the core of his soul. Why didn't the retainers of his household fetch Captain Unohana of Squad Four to tend to his wounds personally? That wench, though of low birth, is the best healer in the entire Seireitei. Nine hells! He is a Kuchiki by all that is right, and it would be a boon to the silly woman's repertoire to count his name among her clientele.
Kaito couldn't speak without disturbing the slow healing process left in his facial muscles to knit themselves back together before Byakuya reacted so strongly to his words. If he could but manage that basic command over his mouth as he had thousands of times before, he would be spitting mad, yelling at his servants and his son, Kalon, for allowing him to bear this pain when better aid is available yet not acquired. Money is no obstacle, so why not get him the best possible care there is?
Kaito's ability to speak was taken long before the healer catered to his wounds because the first punch Byakuya landed dislocated his jaw. Kaito could tell that much from feeling something in the lower part of his face give way under the force of the younger Kuchiki's angry thrust.
It only went downhill from there, as Byakuya wasn't half done with him yet.
The next blow broke his nose in two places. Kaito tried to raise his hands to block, only to be viciously thrown to the hardwood floor, hurting his right shoulder and upper back when his body's momentum came to a sharp halt. Kaito recalls Byakuya's face as he pounced on top of his body, fisting the collar of his robes and getting a good grip on the material, making damn sure his prey could not escape. Kaito looked up into the younger man's face with what he hoped was defiance painted on his wrinkled one, but there was no denying his fear, regardless of his bravado. He felt an unwanted shiver come over his being, invading and corrupting his spirit as Byakuya closed his fingers into a fist over him, then hauled it back to his ear. The young man's angled, lean, muscular arm was cocked and tense like a trebuchet about to launch its burden down on him. And launch it did, but not before Kaito bore witness to what is underneath that famous mask of calm and impassivity worn by the 28th Head of the Kuchiki Clan all these years. And what he saw was pure, unbridled malice. A rictus of rage cast a shadow over the younger Kuchiki's features. The steady gray gaze that resided in Byakuya's eyes for two centuries was now alive with indignity, his eyelids drawn back until his eyes were almost bulging. Kaito could make out the thin, red-forked veins at the corner of each eye—a stark contrast to the white of the man's corneas. Byakuya's teeth were clenched tightly; his lips peeled back as though at any moment he might snarl down at Kaito with saliva drooling from his mouth as from an animal's muzzle.
That was Kaito's last sight as Byakuya hurled his fist down on him, where it landed in his left eye. The blow felt like it could knock him unconscious. A'last, fortune favored him not, and it would be at the end of this ordeal that darkness came to take him. Anger had the Kuchiki Head in its grips, and on instinct, Kaito shut his eyes as he weathered the raining punches assaulting his person.
The beating didn't last long—no more than a minute or less—but the damage is significant. At one point, Kaito tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth before a hot, stinging sensation radiated through his tongue. The healing treatments revealed that he'd accidentally bitten off a chunk of his tongue. This must have happened when Kaito reflexively locked his teeth in place as he took hit after punishing hit. The healers had to stitch the piece back on.
Whether Byakuya Kuchiki was hauled off of him by others in the meeting hall or the man lifted himself off of his own volition, Kaito couldn't tell; he couldn't see anything. What he did perceive was the deafening quiet that permeated the meeting hall after the cries for 'forgiveness' died down.
Every part of his face felt stiff now that the assault was over. The natural regenerative system in his body was kicking in, and swelling is the first sign of its work.
His eyelids couldn't respond to the simple stigma of 'open'. Kaito thought he might have blacked out several times because the next thing he knew, he was being gently lifted from the floor and carried to the exit. A cool breeze kissed his stinging, swelling flesh, a slight, fleeting salve against the heat of his wounds as he exited the meeting hall. The patriarchal leader had no idea when he arrived at his manor or by what means his transportation had been, neither was he aware of when the healers began their work in earnest.
The Chief Physician gave him details of his injuries and how long it would take to make a full recovery, as protocol demands, before bowing his head and leaving the room in a hurry. Possibly, the man sensed the low-key, disturbing spiritual pressure boiling under the surface the more he carried on with his assessment.
Six days! Kaito thought in complete bewilderment. Six days of this humiliation and agony? It's unforgivable! Who does that fucking brat believe that he is? Raising his hand against an Elder advisor? The brazen cheek is more than I will stand for!
It is an outrage! A disgrace and denigration to the name of Kuchiki to have its head behave without honor, and for what?! A common-born dead wench and her whore of a sister?
It is no secret that Rukia's lover resides in the World of the Living. The entire Seireitei witnessed his brash and foolhardy actions two years ago to save the wretched girl's pathetic life. Disgusting! Slumming with a human, is there a lower level of shame achievable?
At least by marrying her off in this manner, the slut can scrape up the scraps of whatever dignity she might have had off the floor of wherever she spilled her commoner's virgin blood and serve the clan by producing an heir.
Rukia should be washing my feet and drinking the water in gratitude for this opportunity. Yet, when I announced the council's collective decision, the little bitch's face reddened as if she understood the fundamentals of propriety or chastity. The mere concept of Rukia knowing any of these is uproarious.
Kaito had only one reason for selecting Rukia over every possible candidate (and there is no end to those). Her adoption creates the perfect play for the council to maneuver Byakuya into action.
For years, the council had tried every avenue to get the head of the clan out of his rut and pick someone from the best and brightest of the noble shirts to be his new wife. Yet Byakuya persists with his stubbornness.
Kaito couldn't see what was so special about Hisanna for Byakuya to mourn his dead wife as if he'd lost a limb! She wasn't even that pretty. She had a commoner's face, could barely walk without assistance, and was pale with sickness three-quarters of the time, and coughed up blood all over the place. If Kaito had known things would have been this severe with Byakuya, he wouldn't have 'assisted' Hisanna's illness with its work. He didn't have to do much. The worthless creature had one foot in the grave without his help. If he hadn't intervened, then Hisanna could have lived a few more years, perhaps, but what would have been the point?
According to Kaito's sources, Byakuya couldn't be physically intimate with his wife often because of her illness and weak constitution. The sickly wench even failed as a woman, so what was the point of her existence? None that Kaito could see would have benefited the clan's progress.
I've been a member of the Elder Council for centuries, long before the best part of that little shit ran down his mother's crack and stained the sheets when his father finally manned up and used her for what he married her for. I've been a loyal and faithful supporter of my clan, following the traditions and keeping the Kuchiki noble bloodline pure, unlike Byakuya, who married a commoner and then had nothing to show for the disgrace he brought into the noble house of Kuchiki. I spoke nothing but the truth because someone had to, and this milksop repays my council with violence?! Unforgivable!
Kaito's anger flows into his spiritual reiatsu like a river of lava, consuming his merger calm. Then he could contain the pressure no longer, releasing it into the room and letting it float up and out from him. Freed, it sat in the air, making it grow laden and then threatening as the substance became unbreathable. For any lesser souls close by, his spiritual pressure will be choking. Kaito felt a few servants collapse a couple of paces away from his chambers; their mundane errands interrupted because their spirits were being crushed by his. He feels their strength leaking out of them as their knees buckle under them in his presence, under the stain. A few were able to withstand his reiatsu rain, and if he wasn't so upset and in agony, he might have arched a brow in challenge.
Kaito's spiritual pressure set the pitcher of water on the nightstand, dancing wildly on its perch; jiggling its contents dangerously as the room shook. The tatami mats came undone and were uprooted from their place on the floor. The full-length polished mirror, occupying a corner of his bed chambers, the luxury imported from the World of the Living at great expense (not to mention a heavy bribe to the officials just to get it through the Donghai), spider-webbed under the weight of his spiritual pressure.
This injustice that Byakuya has done me will be avenged thrice over.
It did nothing to quell the storm of reiatsu statically raining all over his bed chambers, cracking the thick walls and shattering glass, to recall a moment during his procedure while the Chief Physician had him under a numbing spell to nullify the pain. Kaito can still feel the eerie sensation as the healers reset his jawbone back in place, fitting it back into his face like a piece of a puzzle. Disturbing enough, true; undeniably so. Yet, what won the arguments hands down in Kaito's ordeal was the feeling of his flesh knitting itself back together under his right eye (spared the most vicious of the pummeling) as the healing spell mitigated the damaged layers enough for him to see out of it. Now, that had a special skin-crawling disgust about it. Imagine what felt like the feet of a thousand tiny vermin marching under the skin's surface and being completely helpless to do anything about it.
The disgusting pleas on his behalf played next in his memories as his spiritual pressure spiraled and spat sparks around his chambers, echoing down the corridors and hallways of his manor, increasing its influential circumference by a mile. Most of the voices who were begging Byakuya to calm down were only doing so because it was the civilized thing to do, not strictly for his sake.
Forgiveness? Is that all the lickspittle cowards could say? Are their backbones missing?
Kaito expected outrage in the wake of the beating of an Elder, cries of injustice even among his rivals. Yet, only the beginning summer songs of the cicadas had something to say when all settled in the meeting hall. Kaito would wager that many crying for mercy secretly enjoyed the show as Byakuya brutalized him, savoring his humiliation.
Very well, then.
It was a few more minutes before the room stabilized as Kaito's spiritual pressure released the area from his invisible fists. He needed to focus on the plans set in motion by that little pantomime Byakuya put on in the meeting hall, with Kaito playing the main character.
He'll continue to play his role as Elder advisor, without a doubt.
Byakuya, for all his power and influence as the head of the clan Kuchiki, cannot easily depose Kaito of his position without serious opposition from the members of the council and the noble community at large.
Kaito will, of course, stay vigilant about his image. Image is everything for a noble.
Wisdom dictates that I show humility and reflection for my actions after my punishment was dealt out by the head of the clan with such rapacious ferocity. So I will do so, Byakuya Kuchiki. I will do so.
Byakuya will be keeping an even closer eye on Kaito now, more so than his spies made it their business to do.
The brat believes his little network of spies is unknown to everyone, but I'm not easily fooled. As if I wouldn't notice how Ginrei, that sly fox, through his connections with Yoruichi Shihoin, former Commander of the Stealth Force, had procured them from the cream of the crop from Squad Two back then while she was still the Captain. Of course, he had negotiated and solicited favors from other houses to procure elites from their private police for Byakuya before he knew how to wipe his ass. Hate the little shit. He has everything, yet he doesn't do anything with what he has. Byakuya Kuchiki, your existence irritates me.
Byakuya's physical attributes seemed to have been formed by a God with a love for aesthetics. The combination of Sōjun's dominant features and Byakuya's mother's beauty created a rich specimen of a soul. As a result of his rigorous training as a member of the Goeti 13, Byakuya's body is well-honed and muscled; Kaito's face can testify to the power in the younger Kuchiki's arm. Yet Byakuya, generously blessed as he is (Kaito would go as far as to say that the young man is quite dishy), is sexually a schmuck. It was only after he married the sickly commoner that he lost his virginity, barely. How can someone be that obtuse when women of noble bearing were throwing themselves at him? They're still throwing themselves at him, and he is still a sexual schmuck; celibate is the adept description for the boy. What a waste!
In his younger days, if Kaito had a tenth of Byakuya's looks or physique, he would've taken full advantage of them. Women are easy targets when wealth and prestige are involved. Ready to disrobe you or be disrobed with a few flashes of silver or the promise of a meal, in the cases of common whores or lesser house sluts.
Kaito wagers that Byakuya could have been born dirt poor with his looks, and women would still flock in droves around him like senseless geese.
During the deliberations, the council surmised that Byakuya would fight them on their decision for him to marry his adoptive sister. Kaito couldn't comprehend what Byakuya's problem was. If Rukia was his blood sister, then his refusal would make more sense. But she's nothing to him; she's only a legal relative. Kaito wed his cousin, Hoshiumi Kuchiki, and begot his son and heir from their union without a second thought. It wasn't a union of love but of tradition. You don't need such a useless thing as love to make an heir.
I am more of a Kuchiki than that brat is. I had followed the laws of my clan and kept the blood clean.
Byakuya fought their avid opposition to him marrying Hisanna tooth and nail until the council relented when he threatened to elope to the World of the Living, which would have broken thousands of years of Kuchiki tradition in his selfishness. An act such as the elopement of the head of the clan would have brought shame by the wagon loads to the Kuchiki Clan's doorstep. Just like then, he's going to put up a fight now. Senseless and selfish as always. Byakuya cares nothing for Rukia. Everyone knows this! Even those blockheads in the Gotei 13 understand this. Byakuya made that clear when he refused to lift a finger to circumvent Rukia's execution two years ago and fought her lover in a battle of the century with the intent to kill her himself once he was victorious. Arrogant of the 28th Head, especially when the Ryoka broke his sword and wounded him severely after making a proper idiot of him. If he wasn't a human, Kaito would have rewarded the boy his weight in gold just for that.
If Byakuya knew how to do anything, he knew how to fight, and he will fight the council at every step. This time, however, he will not win.
Someone's spiritual pressure was purposefully turning their intent in his direction. A spy, perhaps? Kaito's grown used to Byakuya meddling in his branch's affairs, but could there be others with the same shallow thinking? What can they hope to gain from spying on a beaten-down old man? Is it Ginrei this time?
The crow's feet wrinkles deepen around Kaito's eyes, and discomfort spreads throughout his face from his habit of narrowing his eyes in suspicion. His left eye dribbled a salty tear down his cheek. Kaito dapped at it gently with a blue silk handkerchief he kept in the pocket of his robes, as all gentlemen of the noble class do.
Spy to your heart's content, little spies; report back to your spiders, and they to their spymasters under their different guises. Gather all the information you require. I will be the last one laughing.
Then another wave of spiritual pressure spread in his direction. This one Kaito recognized, and a surge of disgust bled into his spirit at the approach of his son, Kalon Kuchiki, coming towards his chambers. His steps are sure, his spiritual reiatsu exudes confidence.
My son comes to see his father in his hour of vulnerability and disgrace. Kaito's thoughts were calm, with an underlined thread of vitriol.
"Father," Kalon's voice announced at the door of his chambers, "I'm entering."
Kaito felt grateful that he wasn't lying down, resting as the physician instructed him, as his son walked into his chambers. The creature coming into his chambers should never see him at a weak point.
Kalon Kuchiki is a tall, handsome young man with light brown hair, sparkling green eyes, and broad shoulders—a gift from his father. He has the Kuchiki Clan's angular face, a family resemblance undeniable to any member of the nobility, with his proud, straight patrician nose, a gift from that mother of his.
Kaito eyed his son coming into the room proper, with posture erect and noble bearing oozing from his every pore, looking at the uncanny image of himself at three hundred years old. Fresh, white, healthy skin. Timeless, ageless youth flows through every little vein. Kalon's strong, tender voice was much like Kaito's in his youth, too.
This is what comes from having children. The little devil sucked everything of myself that I had. My son stands before me like a ghost of my former self, as a mockery. The bastard became me before time drew its lines across my face with its fingers. Down my neck with its claws and on the back of my hands. Unsatisfied with my skin, it invades my bones. My hair, once black and cascading over my shoulders like a dark waterfall, is peppered with so much white that it is rare these days to find a black strand among them. It's also making a steady strategic retreat from my wrinkled forehead, slowly but progressively, each year. So many lines age me.
A dull green eye turned to look into his son's bright ones, one at a time.
Hateful is this creature before me, though he is my son. My blood. My heir.
Kaito let his right hand hang loose at his side an instant before he flash-stepped in front of Kalon, his open palm traveling in an upward arc towards his son's face, who towers head and shoulders over him.
The slap that Kaito delivered echoed down the corridors, and anyone within earshot would have heard the moment Kaito's palm connected with the skin of Kalon's face proper.
Kalon gasped out of shock, looking at his father with a mixture of emotions playing across his face as he held his stinging cheek.
Kaito exhales softly, his one eye measuring his son's attitude emotionlessly.
"Fa-Fa-Father?" Kalon's green eyes, brimming with tears, darted back and forth. "What? What have I done to warrant this from you?"
Kaito debated whether he should slap the young man again. He relented momentarily, choosing his words carefully before electing to speak. Something so effortless before today is now a painful chore. His voice was quiet and strained when he tried to use it with his stitched tongue. Kaito could feel the stitches resisting the motion to form words over it. His lips were also hesitant to move at his command. He clenches his teeth before beckoning his son to come closer.
Kalon didn't move. The memory of the slap is stingingly alive in his cheek, and fear has taught him caution. Frustrated, Kaito grabbed the collar of his son's robes, much as Byakuya had done to him earlier, then dragged him down to eye level. An inch separated his face from his son's, so that when he spoke, his hot, sterilized breath washed over Kalon's face, and his words were clear between them.
"Your weakness," Kaito whispers as he looks at the tears in his son's eyes, his voice without emotion, "disgusts me. If you were not my heir, I would have sold you to the lowest household in the nobility as a servant without a name centuries ago." He watches as the blood drains from Kalon's face. A servant is bad enough. A servant without a name is worth less than a commoner. They might as well be in slavery.
Kalon swallowed thickly, setting his Adam's apple bobbing. His reiatsu stinks of fear.
"How could you allow," Kaito indicated his face with the back of his fingers, "this to happen to me?"
Kalon's confusion redoubled, his green eyes about to pop from their sockets. "Father, I couldn't have known..."
Whatever he was about to say died when a backhand stopped the words from climbing out of his throat.
"I'm not referring to what that arrogant fucking brat did to me, you fool!" Kaito gasped, the task of talking becoming more daunting by the minute. "I'm referring to the healers. You got subpar healers to tend to me, my son? Do you think me unworthy of the best?"
"No, Father!" Kalon protested. "The situation was urgent,"
"Urgent? Since that was the case, you should have made all arrangements with haste; send a hell butterfly to the office of Squad Four and have Captain Unohana get her ass over here and attend to me personally. Why was that not done, my son?"
"We." Kalon's breath hitched in his throat.
"Speak up quick, you worthless creature, speak!"
"We didn't need the gossip, Father," Kalon blurted out. "I thought to keep much of what happened to you secret from the noble community."
"Thirteen fucking hell, Kalon! You are a fool." Kaito sneered. "You think the noble community does not know every detail because you got the healers from the clan to attend to my wounds? They will have every tiny-tasty morsel of gossip to sample at my expense because of my stupid son's naive decision at a critical moment."
A spark of indignity lit Kalon's green gaze, and Kaito saw more of himself in the boy at that moment than he was used to seeing. Usually, it was that wretched wench of a mother that Kalon reminded him of more than anything in his mannerisms.
Oh, and what is this? Kaito thought curiously.
"I am a diplomat, not a healer, father." Kalon's voice matched his father's tempo and pitch—a soft, whispering menace. "When I rushed to see you, I carried every possible help at my disposal at the time." Kalon's hand forced the material of his robes out of Kaito's grip. "I came here not for your gratitude or your criticism on the quality of the help you so desperately needed in your emergency."
Kaito lifts his chin, gesturing for his son to continue. An unspoken 'Then why are you here?" was said with a lifting of that chin. Kaito knew Kalon as much as his son understood him.
"Ascertaining the state of your injuries now that the healers have done their work and are seeking their fee," Kalon answered, rising from where his father had dragged him down to his level. He rubs his thumb over the area where his father slapped him the first time, a thoughtful expression painting his features. Kaito detested that look. It reminded him of his former wife. "I can see you are in peak condition if that slap is any measure."
Peak condition?!
"Get that look off your face. It reminds me of your bitch of a mother," Kaito spat.
"Am I to be blamed for my genealogy every time we see each other? Did I tell you to lie with my mother? Oh, and did you also complain of this as much while you were between her legs? Did you question her incessantly about what the child will look like or what its mannerisms will be after it's born? I can't imagine that type of talk being healthy for the mood. No wonder mother acquired a quiet servant to attend to her needs after I was born every time you were at council." Kalon smirked, knowing that the memory of being cuckolded by a lowly servant was still a fresh insult to his father's formidable pride.
Kaito raised his hand again to deliver another punishment blow: "Why you insolent...!"
"Insolent? Kalon raised a brow, giving a pointed look at his father's face. The young man scoffed. "Yes, well, I suppose my lineage cannot be denied, though you were relentless to do so during my first century. As you can see, blood follows blood, does it not?" Kalon said savagely.
Kaito's hand paused on its third jaunt toward Kalon's face. His son glanced at his father's boney hand, frozen in mid-arc. "What's the matter, father? No longer committed to the cause of punishing me for my insolence? Given the reaction of my dear cousin to your 'insolence' I would say that I am my father's son, wouldn't you agree?"
Kaito reinforces the momentum he'd put into the swing of his hand as he lets his son have the answer to his impertinent question. But Kalon flash-stepped to the other side of the room, leaving his father's arm swiping at nothing.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't take out your frustrations on me under a thinly veiled subterfuge such as 'subpar emergency health services," Kalon said, arms folded over his chest.
Kalon had flashed-stepped into the corner where the mirror once stood. Green eyes roamed over the mess now occupying the space. He clucked his tongue at the shattered mirror fragments on the floor, then raised an eyebrow at his father. "My cousin must have gotten to you properly for the great Kaito Kuchiki to lose his calm to such a degree." He grinned at Kaito shamelessly. "I'll endeavor to beg for his forgiveness on your behalf over tea two afternoons from today."
"Get. Out. You. Snake." Kaito struggled to form words. The pain and the healing technique were at war in his face each time he attempted to speak more than two words.
"Very well, then," Kalon said, moving around the obstacle course of uprooted tatami mats. "A servant will be here within the hour with pain medicine from the physician, taken with a meal. I, in turn, have instructed the chef to liquefy your dinner. Yum! I'm sure you'll love the menu."
You sound like a feeble-minded human. Kaito thought detestably.
Kalon's left hand pauses on the screen door just as he is about to pry it open. Facing his father's back, Kalon spoke a few lines of a tanka.
"The bamboo shoot observes from the forest floor, the oak standing tall against the north winds,
Nourished by time's embrace, the shoot learns the songs of the wind. It knows how to dance now and sways even in the fiercest of storms.
Bent it may become for a moment by a transient gust, it will always spring back to its original form.
While indifference remains Oak's enemy clad in alliance."
Kalon opens the screen door, then exits before pulling it shut behind him.
Kaito had not moved from his place among the upheaved mats. His son believes he is clever and irreplaceable because he's the heir. Byakuya thinks he's untouchable. They should both be careful. Should this old oak fall, anyone beneath it will get crushed in its wake.
All these little shoots should be wary of forest fires, though they are rooted on the banks of deep rivers.