"Send them away?" Mito-sama was incredulous, as if she had misheard the words from Kalon; it was too simple a suggestion. "Young Kalon," the older lady began, disapproval painting her tone, "have I misjudged you? Do you not believe that everyone here works in concert to do just that? Had it been that easy a task, this augusted body," she indicated her fellow elders and Byakuya as well with a sweep of her hand, her voice maintaining a balanced flow like honey and a harsh reproval, "would not need to meet to contrive and execute a plan to deal with this disgraceful crisis that shames us all."
It was meaningless to make a point to the elder body, especially to Elder Mito-Sama. In all her centuries, Kalon would bet his finest horse that the woman has never taken 'No' for an answer or conceded an opinion in conjuncture to her own, not without raging a verbal war first. So he said nothing in response to the barrage of dagger-like questions thrown at him from the elder lady; it would only have induced a roundabout argument, something unhelpful at the moment. Though his sharp green eyes took in the older woman's measure, bearing the scorn of her judgment that turned his bowels to water, the real target of his green gaze was Byakuya.
Perhaps it was anger that caused him to do it; maybe it was some unknown emotion he couldn't identify—a mixture of emotions even, he did try to avoid experiencing them through his spirit often and only affected an outward appearance of pantomiming them in the appropriate settings—that brought his actions to their next conclusive response, but not as a reply to elder Mito's scornful steely questions.
There were other scorns in the room, of course, pointing their arrows at him. The easy target that made the political mistake of uttering his option in the hearing range of older and wiser men. The singularity daring to stand under the hammer.
Such a fool. Kalon could read the mockery on their faces behind their snares and glares. But he couldn't stand it anymore, ironically enough, since he was currently sitting.
His cousin and lord was leaning against the desk, loaded to its edges with letters from the evil female mob outside. And as their eyes met over the short distance, with Kalon still on the tatami mats sitting in a pool of his blood, Isamu's mangled hands were just redressing, and adjusting their gloved garments; having completed the healing arts, Byakuya stared him down.
This was the part in their silent interaction where Kalon was supposed to look away out of deference and lower his eyes out of respect. A submissive demeanor is expected here to the embodiment of power leaning its swordman's frame against the oak desk, all 5 feet, 9 inches of it. The gray, stormy gaze beats back the emerald forest. The tempest winds batter the leaves, forcing their heads down with one blow of its mighty breath. This force is kingly. It is absolute. It is incontestable, and Byakuya Kuchiki was born with an abundance of it.
Kalon hated to admit it, but his cousin had a dominating presence that he could only pray to the heavens for in his moments of weakness. No one can meet Byakuya Kuchiki and not agree that the man is intimidating to a fault. It is a fact of nature engrained onto one's very soul the instant you come into contact with his presence, and for a long time, Kalon refused to acknowledge this. Not only because he is older by a century and a half, but it's demeaning to the essence of his pride, especially in Seireitei society. Age comes with strength as a soul matures, and wisdom is expected. Then here comes this powerhouse on two skinny legs, born to be better than you in every factor of life that you've had to strive to be acknowledged for, ready to take your place and do so just by existing. How humiliating to utterly discredit another's existence and accomplishments like that, as if they never mattered to begin with.
For a long time, Kalon hated this little brat lording over him; he still does. His hatred for his father comes in at a close second. And by wallering in the pits of his hatred yet having to smile beguilingly in Byakuya's presence because he fears what this younger man would do to him should his innermost thoughts be brought to light, Kalon felt sick to his stomach watching the man he simultaneously deeply hates and respects hesitate in the face of this so-called crisis.
This force of nature, this titan among ordinary souls, was brought to heel by the likes of the protest happening outside. It was an embarrassment that burned him personally down to the depths of his core. It shamed Kalon to have this happen to Byakuya, the man he'd hated forever, and he couldn't understand why. This wasn't what he should feel, yet the only questions coming to the surface of his thoughts were:
This is what I've been fearing. Bubbled the thought into his mind unbidden. This is what has caused me so much anxiety, pain, and anguish over my long years? How can this man have ruined my life for such a long a time? Why did I allow him and my father's unhealthy obsession with him to become my burden?
In Kalon's eyes, the man before him, the bane of his existence for so long, grew smaller and compressed in stature, and it galled him to see that for some reason. This feeling of appalled disappointment contradicts everything he should feel. What his oppressive life after Byakuya Kuchiki was born has taught him to feel. Shouldn't one rejoice in his enemy's trials? If so, then what is this bitter resentment towards the source presenting the ordeal to his cousin?
Kalon would've laughed disdainfully at his own pathetic state right now, had he been in the mood to be gawked at. But laughing like a madman wouldn't help with what he was about to do; with what he had to do. And he better say everything that he had to say now lest the words crawling to escape from his throat strangle him and he consume regret for swallowing them—the bitter fruits of his cowardice like so many times before.
Taking a deep breath, he didn't bother weighing the consequences that would fully bear down on him. Thinking about those consequences would make him change his mind. The fury building inside of him was too much, and it grew hotter the more Byakuya hesitated. It had been building, Kalon realized in hindsight, ever since this morning began so disruptively.
"Is there something you wish to say to me, Kalon Kuchiki?" Byakuya's flat voice challenged him, crossing the borders of their little staring contest, finally questioning its existence in his reality after heartbeats of silence traversed between their proximity, and the notion dawned on his cousin that a brow-beating and the clear expression of, "Know your station, little worm," was not going to work this time.
"Do you have any idea," Kalon said at length after measuring out his words deliberately, "how deep my hatred for you runs, dearest cousin?" There! He said them; his true feelings were out on display, out in the open.
All at once, a few things happen. From the moment Kalon's lips released the words, he knew he was a dead soul sitting on the tatami mats, appropriately wearing his already blood-stained robes. To say that the room came to a halt and that silence reigned supreme over the stately apartments wouldn't come close to a justifiably accurate description.
Stunned, Byakuya tilted his head, eyebrows cocked, and aimed towards his hairline. The Lord of the clan didn't have his mouth open, but he was caught off guard, Kalon knew. It was as if a fish just stood its ground before a bear. It was unnatural, and Kalon could feel eyes on him. Isamu certainly stared at him as if he had lost his mind. It was rare for his manservant to be surprised, but in this instant, Kalon's admission had achieved a level of shock that his old aide and closest confidant was helpless to combat. His expression bounced between concern and a series of spin-off emotions, suffering repeated collisions in his thick brows. He had questions in his eyes; Kalon could tell, but he was too busy watching the dragon recover from his momentary surprise. Isamu, trained as he was and skilled as experience had taught and made him, compared to Byakuya Kuchiki, was only a serpent protecting a worm. And everyone knows a dragon is superior to a mere serpent.
Loyalty. That's what will kill you, Samu. Kalon thought saddened and disgusted with himself for reasons he couldn't discern. And I am so undeserving of you and your loyalty. His manservant would die for him and was ready to die at a second's notice, and yet Kalon couldn't take his eyes off Byakuya Kuchiki. Kaito, too, was looking at him angrily, of course. That's the look reserved for his son and heir, especially now that he'd effectively ruined their plans, but Kalon knew from the onslaught that Katio was underestimating Byakuya Kuchiki.
Plus, he thought to himself incredulously, in what world would I ever marry Rukia-the-slum-slut-Kuchiki? Kalon decided. His father can heap all the scorn, disappointment, anger, and disgust at his feet and beat him to unconsciousness until he is satisfied. But there was no way he was going to sully himself with the mattress tester. And a marriage between them at that? Nothing would make him more miserable. If he wouldn't rise to the occasion for Emiko Kobayashi, a true blue-blooded noblewoman, what could cause him to walk down the aisle with Rukia Kuchiki?
Nothing under the sun. Kalon decided.
"Why are you confessing this to me, Kalon Kuchiki?" Byakuya asked calmly, now recovered from his shock, and Kalon had to chuckle in genuine amusement; the question was so unexpected. Frankly, Kalon wasn't expecting anything other than a swift beheading from his cousin and Lord. He had all but admitted to treason as far as Byakuya was concerned.
"Because, dearest cousin, I know you do not like a bone in me either," he grunted mirthfully. "Plus, only by my confession of the truth will you listen to me, and given that we are in the presence of the esteemed eldership of the Kuchiki clan, how else can I get your attention, 28th head?" Kalon asked condescendingly, expelling a gutsy sigh as he stood up from his place on the floor before his barely-recovering manservant stood slowly along with him. He wasn't the only one recovering, as the elders came alive in the wake of his confession and his attitude.
"You've overstepped your place," Ginrei growled, wilting some of his nephew's new courage before the penetrating heat of his disapproval.
"Get out of here, you little fool," Kaito barked, his damaged throat barely able to manage the required decibels for a shout, but the intensity of his words was not lessened in the least. The Elder pointed sternly to the exit with a gnarled finger as if to punctuate his command, as a host of other voices rose in resonance, all on the same frequency of outrage and displeasure.
Originally, Kalon thought, with his little announcement, that it was Byakuya who he had to fear most, and it is. The lord of the clan had yet to pronounce his judgment. This was a gamble Kalon chose, and he was coming to the rapid conclusion that the stakes might be too much for him the more Byakuya delayed in punishing him. It wasn't like his cousin to hesitate on anything. But perhaps Kalon had misjudged the surface of this pond. When he decided to spew out the words burning hot on the tip of his tongue, he never imagined the waters would be so deep. A beheading, flogging, or even a dismissal would have suited him better than this poisoning of his image in the elders' eyes. He had kicked the hornet's nest, and now the soldiers were stinging at him, teaching him the wisdom of disturbing their sanctuary with his folly.
He had misjudged about its depth, and now he was sinking after so merrily stepping off the edge of the bank, thinking that he could swim and that he had gauged these waters correctly. It will prove his undoing soon enough because it's suicide, isn't it? To be honest with your betters about your hatred. Who does that?
Oh, very wise, Kalon! He ridiculed himself mentally. Dressed in my finest meat attire and having located the tiger's cage, what was my next question? 'Where are the keys?' Ah! There they are.'
Even the sarcastic tone of his thoughts didn't soften his mistake, his gamble, and his loss.
Consequences. There will be consequences for this. Kalon knew this was the truth.
If by some miracle he survived this, now that he's ruined any chance of his father's plan coming to fruition, Kaito was going to kill him or have him praying for death by the time he was done. Add insult to injury. Byakuya slicing his hands into ribbons had forced him to reveal that Samu could have healed his father's injuries in minutes rather than having him suffer for days. His father was not a forgiving soul about the smallest things. That his son had decided to prolong his suffering called for a retributory response, which Kalon might not be proud to live through.
Soon enough, if he doesn't leave under his own power, he'll be dragged out by his hair and blood-stained robes—if they don't beat me bloody first to match my attire. Kalon despaired. His fury had cooled somewhat, and now he was feeling a familiar sense of fear pooling in his gut.
"Silence!" Byakuya's voice didn't boom or knock over all the other voices vying for the title of most vitriolic and venomous, but it was stern, and it cut through and paused every comment half a breath away from being born on the lips of every elder there, pushing to get his pinion into the political tearing down of the idiot of the moment.
The lord of the Kuchiki clan inhaled deeply before speaking again. Fixing his eyes on his cousin, Byakuya addressed Kalon directly. "What is this, Kalon Kuchiki?" he asked.
Pinned by his gaze, Kalon returned Bykuya's stare, but not arrogantly. You don't make a statement to your superior, boldly declaring how much you hate his stinking guts, and not expect him not to, you know, kill you or at the very least crush you with all the prerogatives he has at his disposal. Best to tread respectfully.
"I'm offering to give you advice based on my experience, and this is the only way I could get your ear for a moment, my lord," Kalon spoke with a confidence that shook on its foundations. He fought to keep his back straight and his shoulders square. He should be on his knees, begging for his life; that is what spineless cowards are known for, but that would contradict what he was offering Byakuya in exchange for what he wanted in return. "But as my father has pointed out, I am neither an elder of your counsel nor was I invited into your presence, but I believe I have some insight on the crisis happening and how it may be resolved."
"You could have said all that without expressing yourself so honestly," Byakuya stated, and if Kalon were under the influence of Sake, he could have thought his cousin was amused. It's hard to tell with Byakuya and his deadpan, one-voice-fits-all-situations volume.
If you're going to be amused about someone's demise, at least smirk arrogantly, Byakuya, you bastard.
Instead of sealing his fate by continuing with his honest streak, Kalon chose to nod in response to what his cousin had said. "Yes, my lord, but as Mito-Sama has demonstrated," he inclined his head in the elder woman's direction before continuing, "my option would have been swept up in the tide of competing voices for your approval. An eldership with centuries of advising the lord of the clan versus the uninvited opinion of someone you openly despise?" Kalon let the question hang there in a space of silence between him and Byakuya.
"So you chose to vindicate my suspicions?" Byakuya asked conversationally, and this time one brow quirked up, "Hardly wise, Kalon Kuchiki, and at this inopportune moment at that," the lord of the clan challenged him.
Kalon inclined his head. "It is only in this moment that my counsel will be of any assistance to you, my lord. With that in mind, I feared my voice might have been drowned if I had used a traditional means to acquire her attention, given that you are surrounded by a sea of wise counsel. How else can a raindrop be distinguished?" he demurred.
Byakuya studied Kalon for a long moment. "Indeed," he conceded succinctly, steely eyes narrowing calculatingly, identical to Ginrei in his mannerism. Easing his frame from the desk, Byakuya saunters to the chair behind it and then sits. A flurry of hands moved to clear the deskspace of the pile of letters that came up to his chin when he sat down. "What is this wise counsel-" he stressed the last two words on a breath, "you have to bear on this predicament?"
Inclining his head in gratitude for his opportunity to keep his life for the moment, Kalon began, "Thank you, my lord, if I may start by relating to you and this eldership what happened in my apartment this morning when my manservant, Isamu, caught a lady by the name of Emiko Kobayashi in the process of delivering her letter to you personally." Kalon requested, and Byakuya inclined his head, indicating that Kalon should continue. "Now, I am not sure why that was so important for her to risk not only her security but also that of her reputation being unchaperoned, and I couldn't be sure if she ever knew where you were located, but seeing that I could find you, it's a miracle none of the women have found this place as well."
Byakuya narrowed his eyes warningly at Kalon not to test his patience.
"Well," Kalon said, clearing his throat quickly, "from the nuances revealed in my conversation with her," he continued, "and what she was willing to... offer me in exchange for turning a blind eye to her excursions of your manor," Kalon said, his words heavy with innuendo, "bordered on fanaticism to get to you, Byakuya-sama. And if she is an example of the kind of women who are out there," Kalon pointed to the window. "This little protest that they are staging might run deeper."
Kaito tsked rudely. "Do you have a name for this game that you are playing at, my son?" his father asked, unable to keep silent for another second. "Or perhaps, as per usual, you've spoken without thought to measure the mess to follow in the wake of your careless words? And you call yourself a diplomat?" He mocked abrasively.
Kaito Kuchiki can snare a demon cat off its perch in hell. Kalon thought, feeling strangely cathartic despite his father's foul mood.
"You are determined to shame me in the presence of my fellow elders and our Lord today by carrying on childishly. But remember, my son, every action has an equal and opposite reaction." Kaito snapped the last word like a whip.
It was a threat, not an idiom, and everyone in the room knew it.
"I am addressing the Lord of our clan, Father." Kalon made his voice soft-spoken, but there was a sharp edge to his words, a forceful tone he'd never used while speaking to his father. Perhaps it's bravery in the face of a greater horror. Knowing that the man sitting before you held your next breath in his hands tends to straighten the backbone when facing threats coming from a lesser man, even if that man was his father, his abuser, and his tormentor all his life. Before Kalon played his gamble, he would have dreaded his father's displeasure. Hated the embarrassment to come when Kaito would take his time humiliating him before Samu and his other servants. But with Byakuya Kuchiki having amble cause to send his cousin's head flying whenever the thought strikes him, why fear the beatings from an old man exerting his feeble power in the face of that eventuality? "I am giving him the information I believe he may find useful after purchasing his time with my honesty." Turning his gaze from Byakuya's eyes, he looked at Kaito, "and possibly my head, depending on his mercy gauge. Allow me a few more moments to use it to speak my peace while it's attached to my neck." Kalon's tone was deceptively warm, casual, and disarmingly so much so that the parlor erupted in chuckles at the dark humor; even Byakuya grunted a sound close to a laugh in his throat, though his lips maintained their flat-line posture.
Turning back to Byakuya, Kalon continued. "Do you not hear it, my Lord? Kalon asked Byakuya, his face serious, "I fear the window might shatter at any moment now. It's so loud. 'How dare you have a personal life, Byakuya-sama?' is what they are chanting with their protest."
"That is absurd, young Kalon!" Mito-sama interjected.
"Is it, my lady?" Kalon countered, cocking his head to the side, brows drawn tight. "Because, as a male, this is exactly what I am hearing—so high-pitched, it threatens to burst my eardrums. In their vapid little minds, they've put our Lord on a pedestal, as if he were their property. A trophy for them to behold—not a man. Not a person." Kalon hissed, his green eyes flashing with anger. "In their empty heads, Byakuya-sama belongs to them. He's theirs; can't you hear that this is what they are saying?" Kalon scoffed in disgust, turning back to Byakuya. "You realize what they are really protesting about, do you not, my Lord?"
"Enlighten us, Kalon Kuchiki," Kaito replied sarcastically. "Perhaps our atrophied minds need a dusting to clear the cobweb away, especially if you have insight we do not."
"50 years ago, you married a commoner, Byakuya-sama, and elevated her to the peerage," Kalon said boldly, ignoring his father's snarkiness.
"Are you making a point, Kalon?" Kaito asked harshly.
Kalon smirked at his father. "Yes, if you let me, I will be making the same point you should have made instead of approaching this crisis with pointed fingers and in the wrong direction, at that." Kalon paused to take in Kaito's bandaged face. "Given what it cost you the last time, one would have thought it prudent on your part to curry favor and beg pardon instead of pissing in the pot."
Kaito's spirit turned livid, and Kalon instantly recognized the feeling of icy fear in the pit of his stomach whenever his father got this angry. The soup of emotions churning under the skin of his face—the parts that were not bandaged—left patches of a red, hot, boiling mess; it could have been a caricature. But this time, he was able to push the fear away.
"As I was saying," Kalon continued turning back to his lord, his back to his increasingly enraged father."When you took yourself off the marriage market and married a commoner," Kalon said, "it ruffled many feathers, and many still remember."
"This is not news, Kalon," Ginrei said impatiently.
"But," Kalon held up a finger, stopping his uncle, "50 years ago, no one in the nobility thought it conceivable much more achievable for a noble to marry a commoner. After all, the mountain of ridicule and scorn alone from the collective noble community would be enough of a deterrent for any family, no matter how high place in respectable society, to reconsider their... premature decision and come to a more sensible solution." Kalon quipped. "And now, 55 years later, history is repeating itself, and you are doing it again. Only this time with the commoner's sister." Before Byakuya could reply, Kalon held up his palms in a gesture of peace. "I know it's only a suggestion by the elders, and Lady Rukia was raised to the peerage from the moment you adopted her into your household. Everyone here understands that; however, out there, it's a different story."
"And how would you suggest this crisis be averted?" Ginrei challenged his nephew directly. "As a matter of fact," the elder said, putting his index finger to his wrinkled lips, "share with this august body how you resolved the issue of Lady Kobayashi."
"Did you sleep with her and promise to leak out information on the whereabouts of Byakuya-sama? Is that why you found yourself here in the first place?" Kaito asked unsavoryly, jumping back into the conversation he retreated from in silent anger.
"No, Father, I did not sleep with her," Kalon replied, finding himself equally simmering just recalling that little bitch. "In fact, I cracked my palm forcefully against her face, enough to rock her peas head on her narrow shoulders." He boasted proudly, bringing the room to a halt once again before the questions surged in waves.
"You did what?!" Mito said it in outrage. "How dare you? Are you trying to disgrace this clan with your actions, Kalon Kuchiiki? The Kobayashi family is a long-standing supporter of many branches of clan Kuchiki. Are you mad?!"
"You hit a noblewoman? Intentionally?" Kaito asked, smiling, seeming genuinely amused.
"Why did you hit Lady Kobayashi?" Ginrei asked, not pleased with his nephew's little tale.
"Because Uncle Ginrei, after threatening me with a cheap lie to mar my reputation and trying to manipulate me into doing her bidding, the lady," Kalon took a breath before speaking, "dared to hurt a member of my female staff without my permission. As a result of her behavior, the female servant now suffers from a broken nose and bruises to her face."
Kaito waved that away. "A servant? You hit a noble over a servant? Do you suggest that our Lord Byakuya-sama act similarly and start slapping females left, right, and center? Is that your sage advice? How uncouth." He snorted in disgust.
"When Lady Kobayashi left my apartments before I made my way here, it was in disgrace. Why? Because she was being obstinate." Kalon answered his own question. "For her, I was supposed to treat her with respect even as she threatened me before my manservant to ruin my reputation with lies of impropriety." Kalon nearly spat through gritted teeth. "I related my incident with Lady Kobayashi before this august body to point out that the protest by the noble women can be viewed as a matter of scale and help to resolve the larger problem we're having right now," Kalon said. "I did not just come out and gift the lady with my hand to exercise cruelty or dominance. No, my lords and ladies. I started with courtesy. I played my part as a nobleman of the Kuchiki clan to the hilt, and when that did not work, I tried to gently get the lady to leave. She refused. Why? Because there is an expectation on her part, on the part of every noble female, of how they should be treated as ladies of the nobility. But I ask you one and all: are they conducting themselves in this regard? Would you consider the actions taken by these females as ladylike?"
"You cannot be serious," Mito-sama gasped dismissively. "You couldn't have found a better way to get her to leave? You choose violence against a member of a political supporter of the Kuchiki Clan. They will never forget this insult."
"And neither should we, my lady," Kalon said so viciously that the elder lady blanched. Taking a breath, he calmed down somewhat before addressing Mito-Sama once more. "Elder Mito, I should pray that she commits the lesson to memory; may it forever burn in her heart that there are consequences of foolish actions. Furthermore, is it not us of the Kuchiki clan who are suffering an insult the likes of which the nobility has never seen?" Kalon challenged. "If we allow this protest to persist, what is the message we are sending to other clans? Our reputation will be in the gutter if this continues."
"This lady Kobayashi hurt one of your servants?" Byakuya interjected, speaking for the first time after listening for many minutes.
"She did, my lord," Kalon answered.
"And that's your reason for disciplining her in that manner," the lord of the clan asked.
"No, it was the final straw, my Lord Byakuya-sama," Kalon admitted.
"What were the first other straws?" Byakuya asked, stapling his fingers together before his face, elbows on the desk.
Kalon took a deep breath, "threatening to scandalize my name with lies of impropriety," he said vaguely.
"Be clear," Byakuya commanded.
"The lady stated that she would spread lies, that I forced myself on her to mar my reputation as a member of the Kuchiki clan. She stated this before my manservant; she made these threats without batting an eye." Kalon inhaled a heated breath, just remembering the cheek of that woman.
Byakuya studied Kalon for a long time. "This is what motivated you to find me this day, is it not? Do you want me to shield you in case this Lady Emiko Kobayashi makes good on her threat?" Byakuya scoffed, "You came here not because of your father; you came to find me, to bend my ear to your plea."
It was Kalon's time to be stunned. Folding his lower lip over his upper one, he turned his face to the ceiling and inhaled a long, sharp breath, his chin cradled between his thumb and index finger. "What?" he asked, leveling his gaze back on Byakuya again. "So, to be irrevocably clear," Kalon began sarcastically, arrogantly, to be sure. "I'm standing here in blood-soaked robes, after, wait for it, revealing that I hate you and therefore effectively putting my head on your chopping block, and I'm doing all of this because I fear the lying tongue of some whore?"
"You will mind your words," Mito-sama snapped.
"No, no, no, I'm not finished," Kalon said, cutting off the elder lady, who gasped at the indignation of his audacity, and she wasn't the only one as expressions of disbelieve crowded the faces of the on-lookers and her fellow elders. It was expected if another elder went toe-to-toe with another elder, and even if members of the eldership dueled with the lord of the clan verbally from time to time, for a nonmember to brazenly cut off an elder mid-reproach. Unthinkable.
Byakuya, cutting off my head might be a mercy. Kalon reflected, summoning his next words as he continued. "You realized that I could have sat in my rooms and watched as you flailed about like a fish out of water instead of getting my hands refashioned as ribbons." His voice climbed an octave high as a gasp of air left him remembering the trauma of that moment. "After saving this, my father," Kalon bit his bottom lip as he pointed at Kaito; his measured tone spoke volumes of what he did not want to say: "And having Samu's scars insulted and gawked at by you perfect people."
"My Lord Kalon-sama, please," Isamu cautioned, but Kalon ignored him.
"My Lord Byakuya-sama," Kalon's emotions were seeping through his masked spiritual pressure. "As much as I hate you, before all other members of the nobility, you are the Lord of my clan, and that weighs heavier than some falsehood cooked up in a noblewoman's vacant head."
Silence stood in the wake of Kalon's words before Byakuya spoke again. "It is interesting that you are like this now, declaring your loyalty to me when 50 years ago you slandered my name and that of my wife's amongst your fellow noblemen. Viciously so," Byakuya's upper lip curled.
Kalon licked his bottom lip, then took a deep, slow breath. It didn't even surprise him that Byakuya knew about this. "I have been incautious at times in my younger days, careless about my feelings towards you, my lord, and your lady wife," he admitted. "It was a novel situation for all in the nobility at the time, and I regret my behavior. I speak now not as excuse but as a plea for your forgiveness. I am, with all of my being, sincerely sorry for all that I have said against you under the influence of drink and company, hatred, and envy. I have disgraced myself and my clan."
"You're asking for forgiveness, yet you stand proudly before me." Byakuya scoffs in disgust.
Looking into the battered face of Kaito Kuchiki, Kalon smiled defiantly. "In my centuries, I've knelt many times before men unworthy of me, and quite frankly, I'm tired of it."
"You dare," Byakuya rose from his chair, his sword singing as it was released from its scabbard. The edge immediately kissing the skin of Kalon's neck. Kalon didn't blink. He stared right back at his lord.
"Apologises, my lord Byakuya-sama, and I thank you in the same breath." Kalon stared at the tempest swirling just under the cool mask of indifference. He felt pain as his skin was sliced just an inch under Byakuya's blade. "But at the moment, I am presently growing my backbone, my lord, and I cannot interrupt the process by bending my knees and lowering my head."
Curiously, Byakuya tilted at the man before him as if seeing him for the first time. "Is that the way of it? Then wisdom dictates that you should take care; I don't snap it for your arrogance. And why are you thanking me?" He asks viciously, curious despite himself.
"Because if I can stand in the presence of a monster like you and withstand your fury for even a second in eternity, then what does a coward like me have left to fear? You want me on my knees before you, my lord?" Kalon glared back at Byakuya across the length of his drawn blade. "Then stop hesitating. This protest was born from a personal, not a political, point of view. It demands a personal response."
Byakuya smiled at him, and if not for the painful, sharp reminder that there was a sword pressed up against his neck, Kalon would have completed his half-step. The unusual sight caught him so off guard. He stared at his cousin, his body tensioned not just by the presence of the sword but by the wolfish grin painted so unnaturally across his cousin's face. If showing his pearly whites was a strategy for intimidating Kalon, Byakuya has succeeded. A right canine overbite only added to the savagery of the scene. He wasn't missing any teeth Kalon could see, for a soldier with his military career.
Maybe no one ever tried to punch him in the face because he's the Kuchiki Clan leader with power and prestige like water at a riverside.
Byakuya held Kalon's gaze, his wolf-like grin disappearing like mist in sunlight, his sword still on his neck. Blood coated the edge where skin met steel. "Apparently, even cowards can occasionally roar, but you are a fool as well."
Kalon dared not breathe until the metal of the blade left his neck. He grew a little backbone, but a whole spin? As he explained to Byakuya, it was still in the process.
"You are my cousin, my lord, and my rival, in my own mind, if not in yours. Cut my head off if it pleases you, but I will forever see you in a lesser light if you allow these women to do as they will on our doorstep."
"You forget yourself," Byakuya said in a whisper of simmering anger. "The placement of my sword is only relative; remember that."
"And so did you, my lord, if only for a moment."
Byakuya's eyes snapped to him, but before he could do anything, Kaito bullied his way into the argument.
"You insolent brat."
"I am my father's son," Kalon shot back, "but in this case, I am using my inherited candor not as a poison but as the bitter medicine this clan needs. These women of the nobility expect us to pay them deference before the power of their political influence, their femininity, and their connections to us as members of the class, but that is only lip service in the face of such a farce. This mama's play, this little snit, is begging for a response. A violent response. And it must be delivered personally by Lord Byakuya.
A fist landed against his cheek, and instantly Kalon tasted blood in his mouth. He felt Samu stir and stilled.
"Guards," Kaito called out, "take this piece of trash from our mids immediately."
"Stand down." Byakuya's voice broke quietly into the fray.
The guards stood still as Kalon wiped blood from his bottom lip with the back of his hand. His chest heaving with controlled breaths. Taking a step towards his cousin, Byakuya closed the distance between them.
"I appreciate your advice and insight, though you have not said anything I have not been feeling from the moment this horrid day began, Kalon Kuchiki," Byakuya told his cousin, staring into his eyes. "Yet, I was considering the political ramifications over much. If I had followed my first mind, I would not have had to suffer a reminder from the likes of you, Kalon."
"We've both suffered this day, if it's not too bold to say, my lord." Kalon replied testily, tasting blood in his mouth from the punch delivered by his father. "in more ways than one."
"True enough," Byakuya replied, his sword in his hand. Kalon hadn't even seen or heard him pull it out again. "If you value your skin, you will not move," Byakuya announced to the room a second before he turned the blade tip to the floor and let it drop. It took half a breath for Kalon's mind to catch up with what was about to happen next, and he stared fearfully at his cousin, the monster, and the monster stared back unwaveringly.
"Bankai."
"Byakuya-Sama!" Ginrei shouted. "You must not release your sword in this place," the old man screamed.
"Senbonzakura Kageyoshi," Byakuya said, ignoring everything and everyone as he stared into Kalon's increasingly enlarged eyes, whose feet were sending panicked requests to his numbed mind to run, not realizing that dread had seized control of him as he stared back in horror at the man with the mask of indifference painted on his face. A stormy gray tempest beating back the emerald forest, a dragon in his element.
Byakuya shifted his gaze up to the ceiling, and the wooden rafters, the shillings, and all the bonds that held everything together over the massive apartments disintegrated. The entire shelter over their heads disappeared as if it never existed. Kalon's knees gave out and buckled under him, unable to hold him up for a moment longer. His body vibrated painfully to the top of his head as his knees hit the hardwood flooring before Byakuya. His breaths were shallow before his cousin's horrible spiritual pressure, which was cutting off his air supply and making the atmosphere oppressive. In the middle of this, Kalon could hear females screaming from miles away; he heard the destruction dancing out to the rhythm of chaos and shrieks. He could hear boulders rending explosively apart, the very ground breaking and giving way. It had been decades since he had last experienced his cousin's terrifying power up close and personal, as he had. Kalon could barely lift his head, his neck straining to look upon his lord and his cousin, but on his third attempt, he achieved it. He couldn't say while he was so determined to see the sight, but when his eyes beheld Byakuya Kuchiki in the fully released state of his Bankai, Kalon did not witness malice, rage, anger, or power hunger being satisfied. What Kalon saw, still on his knee, was a look of serenity and peace unusual but perfect in place on his cousin's upturned face as the sunlight beamed down on the 28th head of the Kuchiki Clan as if in blessing.