"Memories of Decades 2"
Seiki had served the Kuchiki clan long before Byakuya was even born. He had witnessed generations of its leaders rise and fall, yet none left as profound an impression as the orphaned boy who would one day shape the clan's future.
He had watched Byakuya grow from a child into the formidable man he was today, a man both revered and feared. He had seen every triumph and every hardship, every sacrifice made in pursuit of power—not for himself, but for the sake of the Kuchiki name. The once-proud clan had wavered under internal strife, and it was Byakuya who restored its dominance, molding it into an unshakable pillar of nobility. But the cost had been steep. People whispered that he had become heartless, that in his quest for strength, he had turned himself into something cold and unfeeling.
Seiki knew better.
Byakuya was not heartless. If anything, he cared too much—so much that he had learned to bury his pain where no one could see it.
Seiki still remembered the boy the elders had once called bratty and spoiled, the boy who had chased after Princess Yoruichi with unrelenting determination. He had been so small then, struggling to match the woman's impossible speed, his youthful pride wounded every time she outpaced him. How many times had he returned home after training, his face burning red with frustration, fists clenched in silent fury? Yoruichi had humiliated him on purpose, Seiki was sure of it—not out of cruelty, but to teach him something invaluable. She had wanted him to experience freedom, to run beyond the rigid path others had set for him, even if just for a fleeting moment.
But then, everything changed.
The Shihōin clan was nearly ruined when their princess fled with a "traitor," and in the aftermath, Seiki saw the shift in Byakuya's eyes. He realized then what the young heir had come to understand: power was not just a privilege but a necessity. He had seen firsthand how fragile a noble house could be, how quickly alliances crumbled, how merciless the world was to those who lacked strength. From that day on, Byakuya dedicated himself to becoming stronger—not just for himself, but to ensure that the Kuchiki clan would never suffer the same fate.
And he succeeded.
Years later, the boy who had once struggled to keep up with his mentor had grown into a man who made even the elders of the Kuchiki clan tremble. He became the most powerful Kuchiki in history, his authority unquestioned, his presence alone enough to command absolute obedience.
Seiki had assumed that Byakuya's only devotion was to strength, that he would never allow anything—or anyone—to divert him from his path. But then, one night, Byakuya returned home carrying a woman in his arms.
Lady Hisana.
She was gravely ill, her frail body barely clinging to life. And though Byakuya tried, as he always did, to conceal his emotions, Seiki saw the truth in his eyes. The proud heir of the Kuchiki clan, the man who had spent years perfecting his mask of indifference, had fallen in love.
Hisana was an enigma to the clan—lowborn, weak in health, a woman who, by all accounts, should never have been able to stand beside him. And yet, Byakuya defied them all. He fought against the judgment of his family, the ridicule of noble society, and even the laws that bound him. He married her, not as an act of duty, but as an act of rebellion.
For the first time in years, Seiki saw something like happiness in his young master's face. But it was fleeting.
Despite Byakuya's relentless efforts, despite pouring every resource into finding a cure, Hisana died, leaving him a widower. The loss cut deeper than any sword ever could.
Seiki had been standing behind the shōji door when Byakuya's grandfather lectured him, his voice cold and unyielding.
"A clan leader does not grieve. A clan leader does not shed tears. A clan leader does not show weakness."
Byakuya obeyed.
From that moment on, he became a ghost of himself. He fulfilled his duties with precision, led with ruthless efficiency, but the fire in him had dimmed. His presence, once commanding, became frigid. It was as if the moment Hisana died, a part of Byakuya had died with her.
And then, a year later, something unexpected happened.
After an exhaustive search, the Kuchiki retainers found her.
Rukia.
Seiki waited for the clan leader to return from his duties, but dawn was approaching, and still, there was no sign of him. He suspected Byakuya was at the White Tower, standing guard over Lady Rukia.
The thought pulled him back to the past—to the moment his young master, newly widowed and grieving his last remaining relative, Lord Ginrei, first laid eyes on Rukia at the academy. Seiki had been there, accompanying him as he made the formal offer to adopt Hisana's younger sister into the Kuchiki family.
Byakuya had acted indifferent, as though Rukia's striking resemblance to his late wife meant nothing. But Seiki knew better. He had seen the tension in his master's posture, the unspoken turmoil in his eyes. And he had especially noticed it when a young man had dared to interrupt their meeting.
Byakuya had reacted instinctively, his reiatsu flaring, a silent but unmistakable warning to back off. It was a rare sight—one Seiki had only ever witnessed when Byakuya was a child, throwing tantrums whenever someone touched his favorite toy. It was then that Seiki realized something: Rukia had affected him without even knowing it.
When she was welcomed into the manor, they guided her through the intricacies of noble etiquette. To Seiki's surprise, she adapted so quickly to her new status that she seemed like a born noble. He suspected it was due to her upbringing in Rukongai, where survival depended on one's ability to adapt. He had seen those struggles firsthand, which was why, when Hisana had been brought into the clan, he had watched over her closely.
But unlike Hisana, Rukia adjusted so well that she soon mirrored Byakuya in temperament. She possessed her sister's kindness but had inherited Byakuya's stoicism. The only time Seiki had ever seen her truly happy was the day she returned home after awakening her shikai—her zanpakutō, a breathtaking work of ice and beauty, surpassing even Senbonzakura in elegance. The elders, once skeptical of her place in the clan, had grown proud.
And Byakuya… though he would never say it aloud, Seiki knew. He was proud of her as if her achievements were his own. And for that, Seiki was grateful. Because Rukia, in her quiet and unknowing way, had made Byakuya human again.
Seiki realized just how deeply Byakuya cared for her one fateful rainy night.
He had seen his master enter the manor, his hair damp with rain, his haori stained red with blood. In his arms, he carried Rukia—unconscious, drenched, deathly pale.
The servants rushed to tend to her, but Byakuya did not relinquish his hold. He carried her himself to her room, where the Kuchiki physicians immediately began treating her wounds. The entire time, he stood there in silence, unmoving, unspeaking, watching.
That was when Seiki learned the truth.
Rukia had killed the heir of the Shiba clan—a crime that shattered the alliance between noble houses, threatening to drag the Kuchiki clan into ruin. And Byakuya, without hesitation, wielded every ounce of power and wealth he had amassed to protect her.
Seiki had always known his master was powerful, but this was the first time he had seen just how much. Despite the unrest and economic imbalance that followed when the Shiba clan withdrew from Seireitei, the Kuchiki clan remained standing—because Byakuya willed it to.
And yet, for all his power, he could not protect her from herself.
Seiki watched as Byakuya visited Rukia every day during her collapse, ensuring that the servants attended to her every need, that the physicians monitored her condition without fail. But it was never just about duty. Seiki saw it in the way Byakuya lingered, the way his gaze never left her frail form.
He was afraid. Afraid that history would repeat itself. That Rukia would waste away like Hisana had.
And the years passed. Decades, even. But still, Byakuya never truly let go.
Seiki knew—he had always known. Byakuya cared too much. Loved too much.
And that love, though hidden behind walls of ice, became a silent cage.
Rukia, strong-willed yet bound by guilt, had spent years trapped in it. She carried the weight of Kaien's death like a chain around her neck, burdened not just by her crime but by the cold indifference of a brother who never granted her a moment of warmth.
Their conversations were rare, clipped, devoid of affection—nothing more than obligations tied to the clan. She lived in the grandeur of the Kuchiki estate, surrounded by servants who answered her every call, yet she was utterly alone. Because the one person she longed to reach refused to even meet her gaze.
Seiki had seen many things in his lifetime. But nothing haunted him more than the sight of Lady Rukia—standing in a house full of people, yet looking as if she were the loneliest soul in the world.
to be continued..