"Your hair will snarl if you leave it like that," Yoruichi-sama told her, plucking the half-unraveled braid out of Soi's fingers. Soi blushed a little, but sat meekly while Yoruichi-sama undid her hair with swift, warm hands. "What's going on that's got you so worn out?"]]>
]]>Kuchiki was her House, just as Rukongai was her past. And neither a survivor of Inuzuri nor a daughter of Kuchiki needed anyone holding open doors for her. She'd open her own damn door.
]]>But however much of a pain parts of it had been, it all came down to this. To he and Rukia, having escaped from the layers of their formal robes and elaborate hair ornaments, down to a yukata apiece, in a dim bedroom that belonged to them.
]]>He looked up at her with entreaty. "Are you sure I can't just stay the third morning?"
]]>Rukia sank back, arrested by the phrase marry out of the house. She remembered the conversation she and her brother had had in the garden one evening, about regrets and stubbornness, and spouses and honor. Her heart couldn't decide whether to stop beating or to race.
]]>Life would be so much easier if he could just hate the bastard.
]]>Juushirou took a distracted sip of sake, and paused as the taste on his tongue reminded him that he'd been going to stop. He gave his friend a rueful glance.
]]>For a long time, Renji had walked at his heels, as if tame, always watching but never challenging.
He was no longer tame, and thus became worthy of consideration.
]]>It was good to know she hadn't lost any of the edge off her vocabulary after all those years in a noble house.
]]>"Tell me about Hisana."