"Wait!" Emiko called out to Kalon's back, both palms stretching desperately out towards servant and master as if that gesture alone could stop the men in their stride. As it turns out, neither man halted at her command.
"My lady, if you'll please follow me," Isamu said respectfully with a bow from her right.
Emiko did not spare him a glance, flying up from her chair like a surprised chicken from her roost and following after Kalon into his bed chambers, ignoring the protests of the servant who also followed after them.
Kalon knew that Samu could handle an insistent noblewoman half his size, but he had not given him the order to do so just yet.
When all three of them entered Kalon's bed chambers, he turned to the two following him and addressed the lady. "Lady Emiko," Kalon began patiently. "If you are indeed a lady, you must recognize how highly improper it is for a woman to be unchaperoned and alone with a man in his chambers, or is propriety a convenient fiction you lot use when it suits you?"
"Oh, spare me the lecture, Lord Kalon," Emiko said rudely, using his title and name for the first time.
"So, it's Lord Kalon now?" Kalon scowled. "What happened to 'sir'?" Shaking his head before he addressed Isamu, even as he stared into light brown eyes over a cute freckled nose. "Samu, what are you doing?" Kalon asked imperiously, locked in a glaring contest with Emiko. "I gave you an order, did I not?"
Before the older man could bow his head in acknowledgment, Emiko spoke slowly to Samu. "Touch me, churl." The girl responded, her words like poison, her eyes unblinking as they stared down a man who towered head and shoulders above her. "And I will drag your master's name through the nastiest mud." She took a step towards Kalon, forcing him to turn his glare down at her. "I will tell all the nobles of note how Lord Kalon Kuchiki dragged me into his quarters against my will and forced himself on me, robbing me of my virtue." Emiko smiled viciously up at Kalon, and something moved inside of him as he listened to what this girl was threatening to employ against his name—that she would dare consider smearing his reputation with such a cheap lie.
"My lady," Kalon said tenderly, which belied the look in his eyes. "I would not touch you with a long pole even if I were coming off a century of forced celibacy and starving for sex expression. My 'ego'," he said with a special emphasis, "would never dip into your murky river when there are fresher streams at hand to sample."
As Emiko gasped and sputtered at the insult, something occurred to Kalon, and a wicked grin spread across his face. A moment later, he chuckled before licking his bottom lip, making Emiko's dark brows wrinkle in irritated confusion.
"And what is so funny?" She demanded. She seems to be good at demanding.
Kalon turned his gaze to the window where the mob of nobility was encamped. "After seeing what the nobility has to offer, I must say with the heaviest of hearts that my cousin will be lucky if he gets to marry Rukia Kuchiki."
Putting his hands on his hips, he turned back to the girl, whose face was bright red with fury. He could feel her spiritual pressure rising, though it wasn't much to speak of, even though she was from a noble family. It was gloriously satisfying to tear this little bitch down a notch; petty of him, perhaps, and potentially catastrophic if her lying tongue finds willing ears to spark a scandal, but that's why he has a witness in Samu right here. The 'lady' foolishly came alone.
"Goodness," Kalon said, shaking his head as if in bewilderment, "and you wonder why your Lord Byakuya-Sama is choosing to marry his adopted sister, Rukia Kuchiki, a commoner turned noble?" Kalon fibbed jeeringly. Byakuya wasn't choosing anything, but from the way Emiko Kobayashi was seething in her spirit from what he was feeding down her throat, it was oh-so-worth every word, regardless of what the truth had to say.
"Perhaps there is wisdom in what the noble community has disdained about Byakuya for all these years," Kalon continued, affecting a sagely demeanor; stroking his clean-shaven chin in thought. "My cousin is not a fool, you understand. He's had fifty years on this estate to get acquainted with every nuance of Rukia's character, perspectives, spirit, and who she is, down to her favorite food and color. I can respect that kind of meticulous vetting, especially if the prize is the title of Lady Kuchiki, the de facto representative of our entire clan. Better to stick with the devil he knows than the angel he does not, would not you agree, my lady?" Kalon asked condescendingly, watching Emiko's entire body shiver with rage.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you construct a proper lie. Kalon thought, pleased with himself and the results. Never get needlessly emotional when dealing with nobles. He reminded himself. But Kalon was not yet done unraveling Emiko's threads. Her mistake was stepping on a landmine when she threatened his reputation. He didn't even care about her other insults and generally poor behavior, but when she did that before Samu, his metaphorical gloves came off.
No matter how much he hates his cousin, before the members of the other houses, he stands as a representative of Clan Kuchiki. Kalon can stand here all day, pretending and defending Byakuya like a brother if he has to, as it is the height of bad manners to let other houses see the dirty laundry of your clan, no matter your personal feelings.
"I, I, you, you." Emiko struggled between angry sobs. "You don't know what he wants." Her voice was miserable. "You're not my Byakuya-Sama. You don't speak for him! You're just a cousin, an imitation that can never catch up to the authentic version."
Kalon shrugged nonchalantly, then something caught his attention. "Your Byakuya-Sama?" Kalon asked with raised brows, plucking Emiko's words back into the present as if for further study, refashioning them as new weapons for this verbal shredding. "It is intriguing that you say this as if it were truth. If that is so undeniable, then how are you all here, in your splendor?" he continued gallingly, digging at the young girl's pride, crushing it into a fine powder. "You present yourselves in your best finery and pretty kimonos, in all your extravagance, and yet Byakuya Kuchiki, the object of your desires, the main character in your silly, girlish fantasies, will not even gift you with the pleasure of his presence from a distance. And why should he?" Kalon said rhetorically. "Do you know why? Because he does not want you. None of you!"
Her tears were falling now. The salty mixture immediately waged war with Emiko's cosmetics, unbinding the bonds of powders and foundation applied by a skilled hand to accentuate her natural beauty. Now, it was disintegrating into a ruined mess, one teardrop at a time.
"I know my cousin, Lady Kobayashi, and if he wasn't considering marriage seriously before today's demonstration, he is now. To be honest, what the women of the nobility have done here today is more apt to make Byakuya skip merrily at flash-step speeds to marry Rukia than be with anyone from your ilk, regardless of your allure." He looked her up and down disdainfully, callously. "That's what I would do if you are any indication of the choices available to me as a suitable match."
Want to know the best way to knee a woman hard in her confidence? Compare her unfavorably to another woman that she despises.
Emiko exploded. "You dare! I am a noble-born lady of good breeding. You think that up-jump whore will be a better match for Lord Byakuya than me?" The room shook in the wake of her explosive, uncontrolled spiritual pressure. Her emotions getting away from her. Kalon wouldn't put it past her to be one of the women who leveled parts of their estates in a fit of peak after hearing about Byakuya's betrothal.
Kalon held her furious gaze calmly, unaffected by her outburst. He's had centuries of dealing with the great Elder Katio Kuchiki's tantrums, and next to his spiritual pressure, Emiko's didn't warrant a moment's notice. "If you are any example, and a poor one at that, then Rukia Kuchiki is the better option here for my cousin. Though, to be honest," Kalon continued his lying spree, freely exaggerating bits and pieces of the truth from his research but unable to stop himself from stabbing this chit repeated with his words. "He's not worthy of her." Emiko gasped, and for a moment, Kalon actually thought that she might faint. "Unlike you and the rest of the noble ladies," he stretched the last into an insult. "And regardless of the lies you've all sampled at her expense over the decades, Rukia Kuchiki is the embodiment of virtue, grace, and sagacity. You, Emiko Kobayashi, on the other hand, have been considered and dismissed. Get your parchment and get out; we are done here." Kalon commanded harshly. "A lady should at least know when she's not wanted."
"My Lord Kalon-Sama." Emiko spoke up hastily; the desperate angle to her voice was loud for all to hear. Wiping her tears with a handkerchief was a bad plan that had a ghastly effect as the sweeping motions smeared her makeup unflatteringly over her face. She squared her shoulders much like before, but the action had lost much of its noble radiance. Emiko wanted to make it irrefutable to the room that she was not thwarted by his scathing dismissal by attempting, (unsuccessfully), to put on an obsequious tone, which both disgusted and disturbed Kalon. A person should have some sort of shame registered in their character. "If you would remove your servant so that we may discuss other options of a private nature, it would be most appreciated." She sniffed expectantly, as if she had a power play she could intrigue him with.
The way she said the word 'private' left no room for misinterpretation of what she had in mind if he dismissed Samu from the room. Kalon just caught the arch of a disbelieving eyebrow from his manservant before his lined face took on its impassive visage again.
"Hasn't all been said, my lady?" Kalon cocked a brow quizzically at the girl with running makeup. "Plus, with your earlier threat fresh in my head, I believe I've seen enough to abstain from your company indefinitely."
"I've offended you; it is only natural for your reaction to be so expressed," Emiko said remorselessly, pulling herself back together one piece at a time from the ripping Kalon had just dealt to her. Kalon guessed that she was either unwilling or untutored about when to offer the ghost of an apology, even if it was unacceptable this late in their interaction. "Perhaps." Lady Kobayashi cleared her throat delicately, which nauseated Kalon to watch this girl play at power she does not have, or rather what she'd lost because of her arrogance and shabby attitude, and lack of wit. "I was premature in my initial assessment of your station and title. Given a moment of private contemplation, we may yet come to an amicable solution to this misunderstanding." She suggested diplomatically, or she was attempting diplomacy and failing at the art. You can glue a shattered mirror back together, but you'll see the cracks in the reflection.
Kalon looked at her, tilting his head. "You're attempting to get what you want from me through passive-aggressive force," he said, calling out her tactic. "After playing hardball and coming up without the results that you were looking for, you're turning it around—too late, I might add—and pretending that no matter what I say, you'll brush it off using obsequiousness as your tool. How desperate you are, my lady? It's unflattering. Our audience is at an end," Kalon repeated with finality. "Commit it to memory if it's within your capabilities to do so." He turned to his manservant. "Samu, get her out of here," Kalon commanded with a contemptuous wave of his hand.
Spotting the servant from the corner of her eye and anticipating the grab on her elbow, Emiko dodged the old man, running to sit on Kalon's canopy bed, wrapping her arms around the topmost post, clinging to it like a stubborn substance.
"What are you doing?" Kalon asked incredulously, frustration creeping into his dark brows.
"My Lord Kalon-Sama, at the risk of you seeing me in this state, I have no other choice but to act this way; if only you had granted me privacy, my dignity would be intact. I would have been able to hold my head high as I left your apartments this morning."
"Your dignity got on a ship 20 minutes into this conversation and set sail without you," Kalon said, annoyed.
"Well," Emiko started, trying to angle the conversation in a new direction. "If only your servant had not accosted me." She shot an accusing look at Isamu. "Then we wouldn't be in this situation. I was on my way, minding my own business, when he intercepted me."
Samu kept his face impassive, a slightly confused look clouding his eyes in the wake of her accusation of him in the performance of his duties to his master.
"You were trespassing on private property without an invitation," Kalon replied stonily, wondering why he was still bothering to respond. "Be thankful, if you're capable of doing so, that it was Samu and not Byakuya's personal guard that found you first."
The girl's eyes darted around in thought, searching for another approach. Kalon could see that she was grasping at straws now. "But-but you have no right to disrespect me in the way that you have," Emiko continued lunatically, "without proper consideration for a lady's conscientiousness to virtue, honor, and propriety."
The weapon of choice. Kalon looked at Samu, who shrugged, confessing his loss at the scene before them as well.
"Is she blaming me?" Kalon asked his manservant. "Is she saying this is all my fault?"
"No, my lord," Isamu said with a sigh. "She's accusing both of us for her actions and refusing to take responsibility using a narcissistic perspective."
Kalon pursed his lips. "Admirably surmised, Samu."
"Thank you, my lord." Isamu inclined his graying head at the praise. "Shall I take the appropriate steps to remove this unforeseen development from your schedule, my lord?" Samu asked carefully over Emiko's bladdering.
Kalon ran the tip of his tongue under the front row of his upper teeth, then sighed. "Yes, and do be careful of what you drag into the house next time. I like my mornings quiet with a book, a hot cup of tea, and free from paranoid accusations and whatever in 3 hells this is." Kalon said, indicating the pitiful creature now bawling on his bed.
"He's mine!" Emiko cried, her cosmetics running hurriedly down her face.
Even her cosmetics are trying to get the hell away from her. Kalon mused.
"It is her fault that Byakuya-Sama was taken away from me. My chance was coming up to introduce myself to the Lord of the Kuchiki Clan at court after that sick commoner hag that he sullied himself with died. Good riddance!" She said it so ferociously that both men flinched, and then in the next instance, her tone was calmer and saner, causing Kalon to exchange an anxious look with Samu. "But I forgave him because I am the epitome of beneficence, and our love can withstand any obstacle. Now, her sister, that whore, who's had more men between her legs than a wooden shack has nails, is robbing me of making Byakuya-Sama my husband!"
"Is she now? What powers Lady Rukia must have?" Kalon quipped. And how she was going to 'make' Byakuya her husband, Kalon did not want to think about.
Noble women and men can get disturbingly creative when it comes to getting their way. There is no limit on the number of schemes they'll hatch or bodies they'll step over to get what they want. Or who they wanted. Perhaps Lady Kobayashi had it in mind to slip some narcotic into Byakuya's tea this morning to knock him out, then ravish him, or something simple like that, that her empty head could hold on to long enough without exploding. She wouldn't be the first to try that scheme on his cousin and get imprisoned or beheaded for her troubles, which would be merciful compared to what else Byakuya can really do and has already done. And though his cousin hasn't availed a person of their thinking cap in a long time, it has been known to happen—albeit sparingly and when richly deserved. Many people don't know this side of his cousin or just how short the rope of his tolerance truly is for stunts like what he was guessing Lady Kobayashi had cooked up as a brilliant plan.
And these are the people who want Byakuya's hand in marriage. Of all the things I envy my cousin for, I do not envy him this. By 13 Hells, this bitch is cracked in the noggin.
"Samu, I've seen enough."
"I could not agree more, my lord," Isamu said in a sympathetic tone Kalon has only heard the man use when giving an order to put an animal out of its misery.
"Don't you touch me! You filthy pieces of garbage, don't you touch me!" Emiko was screaming now as Samu, and a maid he called in from the doorway, drawn by her curiosity by what all the fuss was about, closed in on the noblewoman from two sides. If anything, Emiko clung on tighter to his bedpost as the servants moved closer, as if not to startle a skittish sow. "I've asked you for privacy," she said through her tears, looking pleadingly in Kalon's direction. Thick webs of saliva connected the upper and lower rows of her teeth at points. "Why...why can't you grant me what I asked? Are you not a gentleman?"
Is all of this just so that Byakuya can read her letter personally?
The maid, whose name Kalon couldn't remember at the moment, and Samu were having a hard time dislodging Lady Kobayashi from his bedpost. With Samu trying to pry her arms from around the wood and the maid pulling at Emiko's waist, with the girl shouting and spitting curses at them, Kalon should have found the scene before him extremely comical, but as it was, he couldn't help but feel disgusted. This is someone from the peerage, from his station in life. Kalon felt embarrassed to be classified as a noble with Emiko Kobayashi in the ranks of nobility behaving like an feral animal.
"My lady," Samu was encouraging Emiko through gritted teeth, "if you please!" From the struggle in his voice, Kalon could tell that his manservant was losing his patience with the girl.
It is grounds for a savage flogging or even execution for a servant to hurt a member of the nobility, and as his master, Kalon would be held accountable for what his servant does.
"Please, my lady, if you'll kindly come peacefully." The maid pleaded as she tugged at the stubborn girl's waistline, her slim body almost horizontal in the effort. As the maid leaned into the noblewoman's body again for another heave, Emiko struck out.
In a movement too fast for anyone to react, Emiko released one of her hands from the death grip on the bedpost, crooked her elbow, and then launched it backward, directly into the maid's face. Kalon heard a sickening crunch as the blow found its target, and the maid immediately let go of Emiko with a howling scream, slightly muffled as her hands flew up to cover her face. Samu paused in his attempt to peel Emiko's fingers from the post with a look of shock in his eyes.
Kalon didn't know when he was standing before Emiko Kobayashi; he couldn't remember walking from his observation spot close to the door to standing at his bedside. The room was spacious enough to command 20 normal paces between the doorway and the bed, which takes up a large area in the center and requires two maids to make it. He just knew the feel of air swirling around his fingertips and at the edge of his wrist as he swung his hand back in a wide sweep before it swung back with direction and force. The sound of his palm cracking against Emiko Kobayashi's left cheek in a deafening slap echoed around the spacious room, out the open door, and down the hallway, where a line of his servants, drawn by the commotion in his bedchambers, were watching the scene from a discreet distance; mouths hanging agape.
Silence descended over the apartments as Emiko's body fell onto the bed after her head rocked on her shoulders following the momentum of the slap. In the wake of his stinging response, her efforts to remain in his rooms for whatever private options she thought would change his mind in favor of her disposition dried up with the explosion of pain on her cheek.
"Enough from you." Kalon said, standing over her, the nerve endings in his right palm tingling from his delivery. "How dare you put your hand on one of my servants without my authority, you wretched creature? In all of my centuries, in all of my thousands of interactions as a diplomat and administrator, I have never met anything as worthless as you." Kalon was not shouting; his voice was a whisper, yet the entire room and the servants and the guards who lined the hallway heard his every word, so deafening was the silence with only his voice to contest its descent over the apartments. It wasn't so much his words as the tone in which they were spoken that had such a chilling effect, commanding absolute stillness. Kalon's tone as he spoke was unmatched by the vilest poison known by the highest-placed concoctionist in the Game of Whispers. "What a waste of essence you are, Lady Kobayashi. What a mistake in creation you have been—a deficit to the universe! Your existence has no meaning, Emiko Kobayashi; there is no purpose for it under the sun." Emiko kept her head down under the onslaught of Kalon's verbal assault; there was no shelter from it as it rained down on her like acid.
"Guards!" Kalon barked, and the sudden change in decibels made everyone jump. "What are you doing?" The master of the house asked his employees measuredly. "Get this thing from out of my sight." He pointed his forefinger down at Emiko's body, whose shoulders were no longer proudly squared but rounded as if to make herself smaller, wither, disappear.
"Yes, my lord," the guards snapped in unison, moving to remove Emiko bodily from the bedroom as she still refused to leave of her own accord. Her face was hidden with her long black hair as she passed Kalon Kuchiki and his retinue on her way out. Her wimple went flying as she was slapped, her bun becoming undone.
"Samu?" Kalon called to his manservant, a note of concern barely coming through his tenor voice. Kalon noticed that his aid's hands were clenched into tight fists.
"My lord," the old man said at length, his voice trembling, although he was doing his best not to show it.
Kalon took a deep breath as he sat down in the recently vacated spot where Emiko Kobayashi's backside had been hauled from. Kalon was gentle when he slightly touched the shoulder of the maid, still cradling her face in her palms, though her screams had died down to sobs that quaked through her body. He barked orders for someone to bring bandages, cold water, and antiseptics immediately and heard feet scurrying down the hallway in answer to his command, though some of his retinue remained behind as spectators consumed with curiosity to see what he would do next. Some were old in their employment with him, and others were contracted to fill gaps and were recently appointed. Many know him as a practical man—a sharp-edged politician, adept at his work, and a finisher with all the skills necessary to be a scheming, conniving noble—but Samu is the only one of his servants to ever see this side of Lord Kalon Kuchiki. It's surprising even to Kalon that some compassion still survived, staying alive deep inside of him, given all that he's had to become in service to his father's whims and his house.
"Let me see." Kalon coaxed the maid softly.
He could smell the blood. Indeed, as the maid raised her covered face from the sheets, there was a lot of blood, which exhibited gasps and murmurs from the watching crowd. The bright, rich, red invaded the fabric of dyed yellow cotton, and two rivulets of it were running down her arms and dripping at her elbows onto her uniform skirt. Carefully, as if the maid were made from glass, Kalon took her hands from her face after instructing her to tilt her head back. With one knee pressed firmly into the mattress, Kalon could see the damage Emiko had caused and the unnatural angle the girl's nose was left at after taking the sharp hit.
"This looks broken," Kalon said in a calm voice to the maid, whose tears were sliding down her temples and pooling into her ears. He could tell that she was in a lot of pain. "You'll have to be excused from your duties for the rest of the day."
"But my lord," the maid began to protest in between sobs. "You mustn't dirty your hands with my blood."
"Hush now," Kalon reproved her gently. "As your lord, I am responsible for your care. That's what my title affords me. You wouldn't impede me in my duties now, would you?" He asked her half-seriously.
"N-n-no, my lord." The maid said, frightened and stuttering. That it hurt for her to talk, was obvious from the grimace on her face every time her lips formed a word and pulled at her skin. "My apologies, my lord."
"Hush," Kalon repeated, giving her a reassuring smile.
"My Lord Kalon-Sama," Samu's voice said from his left, clearing his throat carefully.
"Yes, what is it?"
"May I remind my lord that his uncle is not a patient man?" Samu stated, his voice regaining its steadiness, duty back at the forefront of his mind.
"Hmm?" Kalon said in a distracted tone. There was a growing bruise on the young maid's face, blossoming under her skin like spilled ink, slowly darkening her right eye, the entirety of her nose, and over her left cheek. It was already swelling. "What are you talking about, Samu?" Kalon said, receiving a clean cloth from his Paige, soaking it in the cold water, and wringing it out before he began cleaning the blood from her nose, dabbing at it lightly, much to the shock of the maid and the other servants from the ripple in their spiritual constitutions. "Tell me if it hurts, alright?"
"Yes, my lord," the girl replied, astonished.
Kalon addressed Samu's question as he continued his work, fully focused on cleaning as much of the blood as possible. "My esteemed uncle will be too busy with this craziness for me to be a consideration. Within an hour, I will receive a message by Hell Butterfly expressing his apologies. Not his sincerest, you understand. Only his apologies for not being able to keep our schedule. Byakuya will take priority over his nephew, who barged into his grandson's estates without a proper invitation and under a thinly veiled pretext at that."
Checking Samu's face for doubts at a glance, Kalon simply said, "You'll see." Turning back to the maid, he continued. "You, my dear, will have to see a physician immediately," Kalon said to the girl's disbelieving eyes, putting the blood-soaked cloth into the basin of water held by his Paige, now red after Kalon's efforts. He felt her trepidation as soon as the words left his mouth. Not surprisingly, since a trip to the physician's office for treatment is a year's worth of pay for a servant of her station, and that's without medicine.
There's a reason why most Rukon denizens join the Goeti 13 once they discover they have a lick of spiritual pressure and are determined enough to teach themselves how to read, then how to study to pass the entrance exam to get into Shinō Academy. It's appealing, even with the brutal work, because every member gets three free meals a day, a comfortable enough bed (from what they're used to, it must seem like a luxury), free medical care, plus their military stipend should they graduate and enter the Goeti 13's ranks.
"Worry not." Kalon reassured her, "I'll take care of the bill and any medicine you might need. And I don't want to hear any other words out of your mouth, but yes, my lord." He raised his eyebrows at her, a shadow of a smile on his lips.
"Yes, my lord," the maid trembled in gratitude, then added hastily, "Thank you, my lord." The girl said with fresh tears in her eyes. His title held in awed tones.
With a fresh white cloth at her nose to stanch the bleeding, her head tilted back, and led out by a fellow maid, the pair turned the corner down the hallway and disappeared. Samu told off the other servants to get back to work before closing the door after they scampered out of sight.
"Well, this will spark gossip," Samu commented when they were alone.
"I should hope so." Kalon remarked, "It will act as an excellent beginning countermeasure to whatever filth Lady Emiko 'Psycho' Kobayashi will heap onto my name. That slap pretty much sealed my fate. But it had to be done. By 13 Hells, how did she get over the walls and pass the guards?" Kalon speculated idly.
"I would not be so bold to guess, my lord," Samu said suggestively. Then he tilted his head, and look a realization came over his face. "That display with the maid was...
"Necessary," Kalon finished, walking over to his wash basin, pouring water from the pitcher, and washing his hands. "In one play, I have shown my compassion, begun a countermeasure to any scandalous defamation of character the lady might throw in my path, as word of this will spread through the grapevine within the hour and the gossip will grow in the telling, and I've inspired my servants' gratitude using one factor from the principle of reciprocity—unlooked-for kindness. Masterful, wouldn't you agree?"
Samu nodded, impressed. But then he narrowed his wrinkled eyes at his young charge. "And?" the older man asked, holding out a towel for Kalon to dry his hands.
"And what?" Kalon asked innocently, drying his hand.
"My lord, if I may be candid, we've known each other for too long for me to believe that that's all the cards up your sleeve."
"Why, whatever do you mean, my dear Samu?" Kalon said, smirking and feinting ignorance, knowing that it would get under the old man's skin. He walked over to his wardrobe, stripping off his silken top as he did so. He wasn't a soldier, but he takes every opportunity to train in seclusion with secret masters in the arts of swordplay and martial arts. He's had to learn how to defend himself at an early stage in life.
When your own father sends assassins after you repeatedly before he realizes that he needs you as his heir, one quickly learns how to survive.
"Must you set your sights on bedding every new maid I hire for you?" Samu asked within the boundaries of respect, but Kalon could tell that he was not happy. Coming fresh off that little episode, he was surprised the old man was keeping his cool so well. But Kalon knew sleeping demons needed little prodding to float to the surface.
"As soon as her wounds are healed and she's warmed up to me sufficiently, then yes," Kalon confessed, nonplussed. "And if you're so concerned about my bed activities, why don't you hire uglier maids then?" He called over his shoulder to the older man.
"Oh, I'll commit that to memory, my lord," Samu responded plainly. "Thank you for your wisdom."
"Anytime," Kalon said, rolling his eyes at the empty threat. "She's comely enough," he continued. "Well, she was until she took an elbow to the face. See to it that she gets the best care, Samu, get a healer if necessary."
Isamu sighed gustily.
"What? Did you want to bed her?" Kalon asked, genuinely curious. Taking down his bun, he felt the ends of his thick tresses trickle the back of his shoulders and upper back, ready for the comb and brushing stage to rigorously pull them into a neat ponytail. "Are you still vigorous in your old age?" Kalon teased his servant wickedly, prodding Samu for a response, which seldom comes when he gets this way, as the old man always tries to remain dignified, but sometimes Kalon will strike a lucky nerve. "Are you able to handle a young, plump little thing like that? My, my Samu, color me surprised!" Kalon winked at his manservant's blushing face.
"You little brat!" Samu said, breaking character suddenly and losing his control. "You very well know that I'm not interested in..." Samu stopped, caught himself mid-rant, and felt chagrined all the more at the sight of Kalon's face. He was laughing.
Peels of laughter fill the room like musical notes. A pleasant bell-like sound, coming from somewhere still untouched by life's cruel fingers and Kaito's maniac press for power. It came from somewhere deep and pure within his young charge, a place that still remembered a boy happy, free, with untainted dreams of his own. Kalon's laughter was refreshing to Isamu's soul, doing his heart so much good, for he hasn't heard the like in so long. It's infectious, drawing out his joy, playing at his lips, and honestly, there was no true resistance to smiling.
Isamu can always tell when Kalon is truly smiling or laughing because those are the only times he'll witness the young master's dimples exploding in both of his cheeks. In moments like those, warmth spreads up to his eyes, banishing the coldness; winter retreats from the forest at last; and spring is allowed to advance, dressed in deep emerald green.
The young master is extremely handsome when he smiles genuinely; his features are as sublime as those of his cousin, Byakuya Kuchiki, but Isamu knew better than to admit that in his young charge's hearing, even under torture. For the other times when Kalon smiles during his meetings and interactions, it's only a mask. A sham. A cry for help heard only by those who know him best. Samu is the only one of 'those' left at his side now. The old man forgot his anger.
"My Lord, forgiveness, but it is a possibility that she's a spy from your father. This is why, if I may remind my lord, we had to hire new maids. "
"I know," Kalon said, his laughter dying. "My father is always intrigued by my activities and what my plans are." He said in a blasé tone. "The man is either paranoid or just bored."
"One does not send assassins after their only son out of boredom, my lord."
"I know, Samu," Kalon said, his mask slipping back on like a second skin as he smirked. "I'm just trying to put a good face on a bad situation."
After ferreting out one spy after another who'd been found working for his father in his retinue so many times, Kalon kept only Isamu by his side for most things. Kaito knows this, and after trying and failing to turn his manservant into one of his minions, Kaito had Samu tortured in front of a screaming, tear-streaked young Kalon, not much older than the equivalent of a 10-year-old human boy at the time. For hours on end, Isamu was tortured by men employed by his father for their dark skills as punishment for going against his orders and not spying on his son and his mother. The traumatic event rendered Kalon catatonic for almost a year after witnessing such cruelty. Kalon Kuchiki's catatonia was the first ever registered case in the medical record of the Seireitei. Before him, such a thing was thought of as mythical for a soul to undergo.
Because of his ordeal, the old man always keeps his uniform buttoned up and his cuffs covered up to his wrists, even on hot days like these. Kaito's plan backfired, however. Instead of severing their bond, Isamu and Kalon had only grown closer; their trust community was small and kept tight. Isamu had been his retainer ever since Kalon was born, long before his father decided to acknowledge him as his son and heir. Isamu of House Shi had been more of a father figure to Kalon Kuchiki than his own sire.
"If the maid is a spy, the most she can provide in exchange for information for my father is relief from my stress."
"Was that what you were hoping for from Lady Emiko as well, Kalon-Sama?" Samu inquired, a brushy eyebrow cocked expectantly. "Stress relief?"
Kalon groaned, feeling a complaining whine coming on. "Admittedly, that was my plan before I found out she was touched in the head. I don't know why I thought she would be different from any other noblewoman I've met." He sighed, removing his silken pants and underwear and letting the material ring at his feet before stepping out from them; standing naked in the room. "What's annoying is that she's stunning, too. Byakuya stressed me out the day before yesterday, and I was hoping for some relaxation in the heat of the morning with someone from my class and station for once. Noblewomen are always so goddamn complicated, thinking that their virtues are worth more than the collective treasuries of all the noble houses combined." Kalon rolled his eyes, sitting naked on his sheets. The blood stains were on the edge of the ginormous bed, far away from his side, and not a concern to him.
"Perhaps Lady Rukia will be different?" Isamu ventured tepidly, not sure if he wanted to wade into that channel in earnest.
"Pah!" Kalon voiced his disagreement. "She's the worst of them all. Rukia slums with a human, and she was born a commoner."
"Who's managed to rise herself up from her origins to the top of the peerage in less than a century," Isamu argued matter-of-factly. "Quality tells, my lord, and results don't lie."
Kalon stretched out on his back on the bed, enjoying the coolness the lack of clothing brought to his body in the warmth of the room. Years of secret training have honed his body into that of a swordsman: a lean canvas of ridged abdominals, a strong, well-developed chest, and steel biceps. His legs and thighs were iron bars of lean muscle, torn and knit back together consistently over the decades by the backbreaking training he subjected himself to. Of course, no one ever saw this outside of Isamu, his most trusted servant, and by design, since he's always clad in his robes of office and insists on dressing and bathing himself; so very un-noble of him.
"I can tell that you like her already, but I'm not attracted to her," Kalon complained.
"Do you have to be to achieve your goal?" Isamu asked his young charge, "Emiko Kobayashi is someone I would consider your type."
"Her feminine attributes were sublime," Kalon agreed tactfully. "But Rukia...?" he trailed off disappointedly.
"You are deciding from memory, Kalon-Sama," Isamu said.
"I know you're right, Samu," Kalon agreed. "But I can't get that first image of her out of my head. I know it's a memory, but it's as if I don't want to let it go."
"In that case, my lord remains vindicated until tomorrow," Samu said.
"Tomorrow she's coming back from the World of the Living, doesn't she?" Kalon observes with a sigh. "Where she's no doubt been reuniting viciously with that Ryoka bastard; what was his name?" Kalon asked, sounding uninterested.
Samu smiled knowingly. "Ichigo Kurosaki, my lord."
"Yes, him," Kalon responded dully. "Is all in place for her safe return to the estate?" He asked, switching the object of the conversation.
"I have completed all the reservations as you've asked and posted lookouts that we've received from our contacts in Squad 12's laboratory at all three Senkaimon checkpoints around the manor to give us immediate information of where my lady exits and where we'll be able to provide a safe escort."
"Is that all?" Kalon probed.
"I've also hired a contingent of soldiers on contract, disguised, highly skilled, and strategically placed to provide backup should my lady need it."
"Yes. I've heard that her military career has been stymied all this time by my dear cousin," Kalon said, exhaling a breath. "I almost feel sorry for the girl; working so hard for so long only to have her brother stick his nose in her affairs and slow her progress? How do you think Rukia will react when she hears this news?"
Isamu turned to the window where the noblewomen were gathered, refusing to disperse even with the baking sun blasting them and making it very uncomfortable for them in their pretty kimonos with the reinforced guards standing menacingly in their way. "Next to a wronged woman, hell's fury is a winter's paradise. Lady Rukia is known for her fiery temperament. If the Lord of the Clan has wit then he'll make sure to temper her displeasure with appropriate gifts and an explanation for his meddling."
"His Flat-Headedness will do nothing of the sort." Kalon chuckled. "In Byakuya's mind, what he's done to Rukia's career requires no explanation because it's a decision he felt necessary at the time, so he does not need to explain himself to anyone. Byakuya is arrogance embodied and proud, but he should take today's lesson to heart." Kalon said philosophically.
"And what is that lesson, my lord, if you'll enlighten me?"
"Never fuck with a woman's passion."
Isamu smiled again. "Aptly stated, my lord.
"Thank you, Samu."
"Now, perhaps you should consider the merits of bathing in cool water to combat the warm temperatures this morning, and then afterward the benefits of getting dressed for propriety's sake." The older man reproved his charge, exasperated with his antics. "I wouldn't want the inconvenience of being short-staffed because a couple of chambermaids fainted at the sight of your nakedness when they come in to change the blood-soaked sheets."
Kalon looked down the length of his body. "Propriety?" he said disdainfully. "Samu, with the morning I've had so far before breakfast thanks to the fanatical agents of that demon creed," Kalon indicated the scene outside the window, "propriety can lick the creamy frosting off of my-"
"My lord!" Isamu reproved his young charge chidingly after clearing his throat loudly.
"Ego," Kalon finished challengingly, his satisfied grin exposing his dimples.