The voice was small and quavering, yet unbearably loud. The sheer din of the voice, no matter its fragile phrasings, was pressing against his ears, attempting to consume his entire being as if it existed for no other reason. He knew his face was contorting in a mix of pain and guilt, though he did not identify with either of these feelings at the time. They simply were, as was this voice, oppressive as it was.

"BYAKUYA," it echoed, straight into his eardrums. He attempted to answer, but his efforts were ineffective. The voice only echoed again, both distant and near, muted and clear. For a second he couldn't decide if the source was far away or right beside him; the sensation was of mental vertigo.

"THIS IS A WARNING, BYAKUYA."

But for what? What had he done that required such an ominous atmosphere? What was to come for him that was so dire?

"I…I…haven't done…anything…!" It was like speaking into a heavy pillow; he was screaming simply so he could hear himself, only to have his words muffled against what seemed to be only the air around him. Preposterous as it was, there was no fighting this. No fighting, for he had already lost.

"THIS IS A WARNING, BYAKUYA," the voice said one last time, and he turned away…

…into that room on that horrible day, kneeling beside her and grasping her hand firmly, as if to anchor her to this world for even just a few minutes longer.

"You must promise, Byakuya, never to tell her…."

He opened his mouth to speak, knowing where he was now and what to do; he had to get this dream, a horrible repeat of the worst day of his life, over with as soon as possible before the agony set in. But alas, though he put forth the effort to speak, not a word left his mouth. In a spurt of frustration, he found himself yelling, shouting, screaming with all his might, but though he felt his throat turning red and raw from the strain, not so much as a syllable made it out. Already he was exhausted from his efforts, but nothing was working, nothing!

"You must promise, Byakuya…never see her again…."

Though silence was already his, he withdrew from any more attempts to talk and stared hard at her dark figure. She had never said this….

"You heartless man…never see her again, or she will crumble…."

Heartless? She will crumble? No, it was because he had a heart that he couldn't see her again, didn't Hisana know that—

"NEVER SEE HER AGAIN."

The cacophonous voice at last launched Byakuya back into sweaty, shaking consciousness. Though Hisana was no stranger to his dreams, he hadn't dreamt of that particular morning in years.

It had left him a tangled mess of everything, and any usual attempts to calm himself yielded not even a trace of a result. To unwillingly subject himself to that kind of torture again, and to hear such anger in her voice….

But, why now? Why did that have to happen? And of course, Hisana had not been referring to Rukia. Byakuya knew that in the way he knew whenever his squad members were lying, or whenever the gardens were about to burst open with flowers each spring. But, he hadn't even been thinking of her. She hadn't been a thought in so long he had practically forgotten her existence, exactly as he had planned.

Or was that it? Because he had forgotten in the first place?

Ignoring his trembling, Byakuya lay back down, his gray eyes staring wide up at the ceiling. Sleep slowly came back to him, though once it did return, blissfully, he was not faced with any more memories he'd rather forget.

A/N: Aw shit, here we go again….

Fun fact: This is a major revamp of a story I originally wrote in 2009.