Bleach: All In One

Welcome to my Bleach fic, which is largely concerned with finding some kind of closure for the various things KT leaves us up in the air about.

Promise

Knowing the history of Byakuya’s promises, Rukia makes one of her own, and hopes Renji can accept it. Drama with Angst, I-4.

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia, Ukitake Juushirou

Rukia walked to cool down, through the streets and lower courts, circling until she caught her breath and her muscles stopped burning. When her hands finally agreed to close firmly again she climbed up to the roof of the Thirteenth Division offices to watch the sunset. It was a familiar thing to do. She couldn’t decide whether it comforted her or just made her feel more alien now, with everything so changed.

The sunset itself was beautiful, though.

“Ah. I wondered if I would find you up here.” Ukitake-taichou settled, soundlessly, beside her.

“Did you need me for something, Taichou?” Rukia unclasped her arms from around her legs and straightened.

“No, no, relax.” Ukitake-taichou smiled down at her. “No need to spoil the sunset; you always did like coming up here to watch.”

Rukia was worn out enough to take him at his word. They watched the sky until the last hint of teal faded away and the stars were out. Finally, though, Rukia sighed and cupped her hands together, whispering the words for light. She released it over their heads and turned to face her captain. “What is it, Taichou?”

Ukitake-taichou gave her a wry look. “Can’t fool you, can I?” He eyed the captured seed of brightness above them. “I forget, sometimes, just how great a volume of kidou you know. Sometimes I wonder if you shouldn’t have gone into the Second Division, where you’d use more of it on a regular basis.”

Second? Rukia felt a cold grue crawl down her spine. The only division she would less want to be in was the Twelfth! She shook her head. “I’m happy here.”

“That’s good to hear.” Ukitake-taichou leaned back on his hands. “You’ve been practicing with Abarai so much, lately, I was starting to wonder if you wanted to transfer to your brother’s Division.”

“No!” Rukia bit her lip as Ukitake-taichou started upright. Less vehemently, but still firmly, she repeated, “No. I’m happy here. And I wouldn’t do that to him.”

Her captain cocked his head. “Which him?”

Rukia blinked. “… either of them,” she answered after a long pause. She tossed her head as if to shake off her thoughts. “I practice with Renji because he’s the only one who doesn’t treat me like either an avatar or an idiot. Well,” she added, “he does still treat me like an idiot, sometimes, but that’s just Renji.”

“He does seem very fond of you,” Ukitake-taichou chuckled.

Rukia flinched.

“It’s like that, is it?” her captain asked, softly.

Rukia looked away. “I won’t ask Nii-sama to break his promise,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I won’t put him between his promises again.” If her adoption was the last rule to be broken in the house of Kuchiki… then so be it. Her knuckles whitened.

Ukitake-taichou sighed and reached out to ruffle her hair. “If that’s your choice. Just let me know when you’re ready, then. I’ll clear a court for the day and grab someone from Fourth, for your poor unsuspecting division-mates.”

Rukia stared. Ukitake-taichou laughed out loud. “Oh, come now. It’s obvious what you’ve been training toward.” He smiled at her, gently. “I’m glad to see you’ve finally found the heart to advance seriously.” He stood and stretched. “I’ll look forward to watching.”

“Thank you, Taichou,” Rukia whispered to the breeze he left behind him.

Another day, another walk. This one not to cool down, but to compose herself. She focused on one detail after another, as she walked through the halls of her house. Steps measured. Hands steady. Expression calm. Breathing even. At last she stood at the door of her brother’s room. One more breath.

She knelt and slid the door aside.

Byakuya-nii-sama didn’t move from where he sat looking out into one of the gardens. “You challenged for a higher seat today,” he remarked.

Rukia’s mouth quirked before she schooled her expression again. News had traveled fast. “Yes,” she agreed. “I am now seated third in the Thirteenth Division.” A great ways to advance in a single day. A single, very long, day. She ordered her leg muscles not to start shaking again.

“Good,” her brother stated. “How soon will you rise to fuku-taichou?”

Rukia lifted her head, proudly. “Within two years,” she answered, prompt and firm.

Now, Nii-sama turned his head, brow lifted. Rukia held his gaze, shoulders straight. Perhaps she wasn’t the prodigy that her brother was, and perhaps she hadn’t driven herself as hard as Renji had. At least, she hadn’t used to. But if she had a cause to put her strength toward, she believed she could do it.

A subtle softening passed over her brother’s face. Nothing so overt as a smile, but Rukia brightened to see it. I’ll make our house proud, she assured him silently. I will. I promise.

“Good,” he repeated, voice a shade warmer.

Rukia bowed and withdrew, breaking into a grin as she ran back to her own room.

Rukia was happily off-duty and lying in the grass trying to blow all the fluff off a dandelion when Renji tracked her down.

“So!” he thumped down beside her, cross-legged, sake bottle a smaller thump a second later. “I hear you advanced. About time you got your lazy ass in gear.”

“As if you should talk, Mr. Brow-nosing Social Climber,” she shot back, lazily.

“Me!” he protested. “Who’s the noble house girl, again?”

She grinned at him with a wicked gleam in her eye. “I’m not the one who acts like a noble house-boy.”

“You little,” he sputtered and swatted at her. She ducked, laughing.

“Yep. Little and fast, not a big, clumsy oaf like some people I could mention.”

Renji flopped back in the grass with a groan. “I forgot what a mouth you’ve got on you, when you’re in a good mood.” He took a swig from the bottle and held it out to her. “Here. Drink up. You’ll be too busy to celebrate soon, I bet.” He leaned up on an elbow and eyed her with an evil grin of his own. “You did remember, didn’t you, that Third Seat in your division gets to do all a vice-captain’s work without any of the advantages?”

Rukia tipped the bottle back for a healthy swallow. “Of course I did.” She shrugged. “Ukitake-taichou deserves a break from those two maniacs.”

Renji’s toothy grin softened. “Always you do it for someone else.” He shook his head and snorted. “Well,” he added in a more normal tone, “I bet Kuchiki-taichou was pleased. Not that he’d have said so. No, I bet the first thing he said was ‘So when are you getting the next level?’ Wasn’t it?”

Rukia drew herself up and looked down her nose at him. “It was not.”

“Oh?” Renji arched a skeptical brow.

“It was the second thing he said,” Rukia informed him with dignity. “The first thing he said was ‘Good.'”

“Wow,” Renji marveled with mock-amazement, “he must be going soft in his old age.”

“Maybe he is.” Rukia brushed her fingertips over the now-uneven fluff of the dandelion. “I used to think he didn’t care. Now,” she paused, “now I think he just tries not to.” She folded up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, a little of her old forlorn feeling trying to creep back. “Knowing the whole story… I’m amazed he doesn’t hate me. Can you imagine? Your wife spends her marriage to you distracted by someone else, and then her dying wish is for you to find that someone and take them in?” She shivered.

“Yeah,” Renji agreed, slowly. “That must have hurt.”

Rukia hugged her knees tighter, words becoming muffled. “Why does it seem like everyone misses love by looking the wrong way? They ignore it while they have it, or they don’t notice it when they find it. Or they find it when it’s too late.”

Renji frowned. “Rukia…”

“You know,” she hurried on, “while I was in the human world… I remembered how much I missed having a friend. Someone I trusted enough to yell at and argue with. A real friend.” She looked up, biting her lip. “I missed you.”

Renji’s face was still. “Yeah, me too,” he answered at last, quietly. He leaned back on his hands, staring up at the sky. “You think Kuchiki-taichou trusts anyone?”

He did understand. Rukia gave him a shaky smile of gratitude. “He’s starting to.” She cleared her throat to dislodge the catch in it. “A little.” Her smile steadied. “Hard for even him to deny it after admitting he cares in front of half the captains and vice-captains.”

“Ha!” Renji’s bark of laughter sounded a little like her throat clearing. “If anyone had the brass balls to deny it, it would be him.”

“Yes,” Rukia said, softly. “Nii-sama believes very much in propriety.” Which did not include another commoner marrying a member of Kuchiki. Even if that member had started as a commoner herself. “Pass that bottle over, Renji. Quit hogging the sake.”

“You’re an idiot,” Renji told her, tossing the bottle to her. “Not as much of an idiot as me, but damn close. You always put everyone but yourself first.”

“You can’t put everyone first,” Rukia whispered. “One person has to come before another.” She took a long swallow, letting the burn of alcohol loosen the knot in her chest. “And who says I’m not as much of an idiot as you?” she managed. “You and your competitive streak.”

“In some things, I am indubitably superior,” Renji enunciated, waving a hand to get the bottle back.

Rukia eyed him measuringly. “I suppose I have to let you have this one,” she allowed. “After all, I’m not enough of an idiot to lie with my hand behind my head right next to someone who knows… ” she grinned evilly, “all my ticklish spots.” She darted a hand between them and tickled his ribs.

Renji squawked and flailed. “Damn it, Rukia! That’s cheating! Cut that out!”

Rukia sprang back out of reach, laughing. Renji glared at her, panting for breath. “Not only,” he growled, “do you pull a sneak attack, but you keep all the sake! This means war!”

“Hmmmm.” She pulled a thoughtful face. “So, if I buy you a bottle of your own, will that mean truce?”

Renji hauled himself to his feet, looking as dignified as he could with grass in his hair and a smile twitching at his mouth. “Always knew you’d be good at diplomacy.”

They walked close, as they turned back toward the city, but Rukia noticed Renji was careful not to even brush against her shoulder.

Maybe she’d get another bottle for herself, too.

Nii-sama…

End

Understand

Rukia gets exasperated and points out the obvious to Renji. Spoilers through manga 181. Mostly Humor, I-1.

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Rukia

It had been a nice evening walk through the woods beyond the city, with a handful of friends, before the Hollow charged them from behind a grove of firs. Rukia felt she really should have known it was too quiet.

“Rukia!” Renji grabbed her arm and started to dive in front of her, only to meet her elbow coming the other way towards his gut. He folded up in a whooping heap, and Rukia shook off his grip.

“Here!” she yelled, springing away from him to draw the Hollow aside. It howled and dashed for her, zigzagging, trying to come at her from an unguarded side. It took what it thought was an opening, with a gleeful cry, and she spitted it on a two-handed thrust.

It was over in seconds.

“Nice job, Rukia-san!” Kiyone cheered. Kiyone’s sister gave her a rueful look, eyes still a little wide, and Rukia spared a moment to wonder whether Isane-san would ever again be convinced to come out walking with them, after this.

“Yes,” agreed Kira, bending over the still-gasping Renji, “but did you have to be quite so hard on Abarai-kun?” He sounded both worried and amused.

“Yes, I did,” Rukia growled, stalking back to Renji’s side as he started to lever himself off the ground. She grabbed a handful of the front of his gi and yanked him up face to face with her. “Get it straight,” she snapped at him. “I am fully recovered. I have not had my spiritual energy drained. I am not in a false body that keeps draining it. I have not just come out of a prison that also keeps draining it.” Each not was punctuated by a brisk shake.

“Yeah, but,” Renji managed, grinning, and Rukia’s voice lowered ominously.

“If you ever do that again I’ll aim the elbow a little lower. Understand?”

Renji winced. “Got it, got it,” he agreed, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Which meant that when Rukia opened her hand and dropped him, he thumped back to the ground again.

“Good.” She smirked at him, satisfied.

“Ow,” he grumbled as Kira helped him up, and added under his breath, “Remind me again why I’m in love with her? Gotta be crazy.”

Rukia had already turned away, which was good. That way, Renji couldn’t see her smiling.

End

Price

Slightly twisted ficlet about the aftermath of the Soul Society arc. Spoilers through manga 181. Totally Cracked, I-1

Character(s): Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia

If Rukia had made a list of the many sights she never expected to see, her brother kneeling over a washtub full of suds with his sleeves tied back would not have been on it anywhere. It would never have occurred to her to imagine her cool, sleek, elegant brother with his hair mussed from rising steam, even for the sake of thinking it impossible.

“Nii-sama?” she asked, a bit cautiously just in case this was a symptom of madness, or some strange family ritual she’d never heard of. “What are you doing?”

“Everything has a price, Rukia,” he told her, evenly, without turning. He lifted his white scarf out of the water and held it up to the light. Rukia could see faint red-brown marks here and there. “Everything.

“Including dramatic gestures.”

He dropped it back in and leaned down to keep scrubbing.

End

Patch

Renji gets an offer and ~~wibbles~~ hesitates over it; Byakuya ~~pounds~~ talks some sense into him. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Yachiru

Renji eyed the messenger, entertained, in a detached kind of way, at how out of place he looked in the middle of the muddy practice ground behind the south sixth court. Though Kuchiki-taichou would undoubtedly approve of the poor guy’s formal words and poker-up-the-ass posture.

“… so, that being the case, a quorum of the Thirteen—” the messenger’s voice stumbled, “of the… remaining Thirteen division captains call you before them to receive their acclamation as captain of the Fifth Division.”

Renji’s hand twitched once toward the paper held out by the messenger, before he closed it into a fist by his side.

“I can’t accept it,” he said quietly.

“Then please come at once to… you what?!” The messenger gaped at him, poise blown away. A wry smirk curled Renji’s mouth, imagining his captain’s expression of chilly disapproval, now.

“You deaf?” he prodded. “I can’t accept it.” Humor drained away again, and he added, soft and hard, “Not yet.” The messenger opened and closed his mouth a few times, waving the paper at him, and Renji wheeled around and stuffed his hands into his sleeves to keep from reaching for it after all. “Don’t you have work to be doing?” he growled over his shoulder.

“I… I’ll… take your… your refusal… to the captains then,” the messenger stammered, sounding dazed. “Um. Yes.”

Renji caught some pretty uncomplimentary muttering as the messenger took himself off, and snorted. “I can’t accept it,” he repeated to empty air. “Not yet.”

Lifting his eyes, he caught Kuchiki Byakuya’s expressionless gaze for one moment before his captain was gone from the balcony where he’d been listening.

Renji liked to think that he stayed alert for anything, even when he was at home.

Anything, however, didn’t usually include a tiny brat of a fellow vice-captain landing on his shoulders and pounding him on the head with a small but very hard fist.

“Renji, you idiot!”

“Ow!” Renji’s chin hit the tatami before he managed to haul her off. “Yachiru, what the hell?!”

Yachiru dangled from his fist, glaring at him. “What do you think you’re doing, disobeying your captain’s orders?”

Renji squinted at her, wondering if Rangiku had invited Yachiru over for sake again. He thought they’d all learned better, after last time. “What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t disobeyed orders!” He paused. “Well, not recently.” Then he howled as Yachiru kicked him in the elbow and squirmed out of his grip to stand in front of him with her arms crossed, tapping a toe.

“Your promotion,” she snapped. “Who do you think nominated you?”

Renji blinked at her while his brain worked through what she’d just implied. It took a while. “Kuchiki… taichou?” he said at last, voice thin with disbelief.

“Exactly!” She walloped him another one while he was distracted.

“But,” Renji protested, with his hands over his head, “but I’m not… I still have to…” He stopped as Yachiru’s glare cranked up another notch. When she spoke her voice was very calm and Renji sat up straight. When Yachiru got serious, smart people listened up.

“Three captains are gone. Hisagi can temporarily take the Ninth; they’re shaken, but they all know him and trust him. The Third and Fifth, though,” she shook her head, eyes shadowed. “They’re broken. And Momo and Izuru… they… ” she bit her lip. “Even Unohana-taichou can’t say when she might recover, and he’s… not doing well.” She jammed her fists on her hips and stomped closer, until they were nose to nose. “So quit acting so stupid and take the promotion! It’s your duty to the divisions, and to your captain, who obviously knows which way is up even if you don’t!”

Renji veered off from that last bit and picked something else to argue with. “So they can advance Ikkaku-san,” he told Yachiru, stubbornly. “Anyone can tell he’s half past ready, for all he’s been slacking up till now. And Ayasegawa can go along as his vice-captain. They’d be a good change of pace for the Fifth.”

“They’re moving to the Third, already,” she shot back.

“They should move Rangiku to Third,” he grumbled. “It’d be good for them and for her, both.”

“She’s not ready to move up,” Yachiru said, flatly. “And Hitsugaya-taichou is good for her already. You know she needs someone to look after her.”

Ticking down the list of vice-captains, Renji had to admit that the only people who were really ready to move up were him and Yachiru. And one look at the glint in her eye decided him that he wasn’t crazy enough to suggest that Yachiru leave her captain.

“All right, all right!” he exploded, at last. “Get out of here and leave me alone, you little brat! I’ll think about it.”

Yachiru beamed at him, serious look evaporating. “Sure thing, Rakugaki!” She hopped out his window with a cheerful wave. Renji growled after her. She didn’t have to look so sure she’d won, already, did she?

He sprawled out on his back, staring up at his ceiling blankly. “Taichou,” he murmured. “Did you really?”

Renji spent the next day shooting thoroughly weirded out looks at his captain. It was hard to tell for sure, but he thought Kuchiki-taichou was amused by it.

There was a suspicious lack of any one else getting promoted to the Fifth that made Renji grit his teeth every time he noticed it. Now, on top of his urge to press forward and the pride that demanded he catch Kuchiki-taichou first, he had the urge to be contrary and tell them to all fuck off piled into the mix. It didn’t make for a peaceful day.

When he realized he was thinking about tracking down that Ichigo for a really good fight, Renji decided he had to do something. Maybe he could talk it over with Rukia…

He stormed off to the dojo and yelled at the Captain-General until the old man agreed to a match, instead.

“Finding excuses to slack off of your duties?”

Renji craned his head to see Kuchiki-taichou standing in the doorway before Yamada hauled his chin back around.

“Hold still, Renji-san,” Yamada told him, firmly, shining a light in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Renji grumbled, trying to bat the light away. “Just got a little knocked around. And I finished the paperwork before I left,” he added to his captain.

Kuchiki-taichou’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Renji stifled a wince. Okay, so the paperwork wasn’t what the Captain was talking about. He hunched up a little, as far as the bandages would let him; it wasn’t that unreasonable that he wanted to kick Kuchiki-taichou’s ass into next week before advancing, he thought mulishly. There were things a man had to do for his own pride.

Yamada smacked him on the shoulder with two fingers, and tried to look stern when Renji goggled at him. “Stop that, Renji-san. I haven’t finished with your ribs yet.” He turned to face Kuchiki-taichou, and Renji figured he was probably the only one close enough to tell that the poor guy’s knees were shaking. “Kuchiki-taichou, your fuku-taichou will be released in two hours.”

Yamada clearly didn’t quite have the guts to tell Kuchiki-taichou to take a hike. Renji didn’t blame him, not with the cold stare he was getting.

“I see.”

Renji snorted as Kuchiki-taichou turned and swept back down the hall, and Yamada slumped against the examining table. “Entire damn place has lost its mind lately,” he muttered, clouting Yamada on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’s a stickler for protocol; wouldn’t kill anyone who isn’t in his own division.”

Renji couldn’t help remembering that he was, in fact, in Kuchiki-taichou’s division, when he was released from the clutches of Fourth Division only to find his captain waiting at the door.

“Come,” Kuchiki-taichou ordered, briskly.

Renji followed along, sighing. At least whatever deadly dull penalty job his captain had in mind would probably keep him busy.

They finally stopped at one of the practice fields. Renji, figuring that he was about to be assigned to cut the grass with nail-clippers or something, felt his jaw drop when Kuchiki-taichou undid the bundle under his arm and tossed Zabimaru at him. “Taichou?” he asked, slowly, staring at his zanpaku-tou.

“The Thirteen Divisions have no use for deadwood,” Kuchiki-taichou stated, drawing Senbonzakura.

Renji’s brain scrambled to make sense of the whole situation, but his body already knew this was a fight and was more interested in not dying. He drew Zabimaru. After this long under Kuchiki-taichou, Renji knew for a fact that he was serious. He was always serious. Icicle-bastard.

“Prove that you are not ready, and I will revoke my nomination,” Kuchiki-taichou told him, evenly. “Hold back and I will kill you.

“Scatter…”

Renji came to starting at the sky, covered in slime, with Unohana-taichou standing over him as she sealed her zanpaku-tou. “That was reckless, Kuchiki-taichou,” she scolded, mildly.

“It was necessary,” his voice corrected.

Renji managed to turn his head and squint up at the figure looming on his other side. Kuchiki-taichou looked down at him, detached as always. “Closer,” Renji rasped. “This time.”

One brow tilted slightly. “Perhaps,” Kuchiki-taichou returned. “In any case, my nomination stands. You will report to accept it.” He turned away while Renji was still trying to muster the energy to scowl.

Two steps away, though, he stopped. “I have only fought four others who have come closer since I became captain myself. Stop wasting time arguing your fitness. Abarai-taichou.”

Renji felt his face heat. Oh, he was not… he was not blushing. No. No way. He made an uncomfortable sound, flailing for anything he could say that wouldn’t result in yet more embarrassment. Unohana-taichou had a hand over her mouth, and her eyes were sparkling. Renji squirmed.

Kuchiki-taichou looked over his shoulder. A faint curve marked one corner of his mouth. “Someone to chase, to get stronger, wasn’t it? What made you think that would change? It would take considerably more than a promotion to make you my equal. Work for it.”

Renji stared, and then laughed, and then coughed as the laugh caught on the pain still running through his chest. “Ah,” he gasped, at last. “Then I’ll just have to do more, huh? Taichou.”

Kuchiki-taichou’s dismissive glance, raking him up and down before he turned away again, made Renji hold his stomach as another laugh clawed its way free. He grinned through clenched teeth at his captain’s retreating back.

“More it is, then.”

End

A/N: Rakugaki means scrawl or scribble or graffiti. It seemed a likely nickname for Yachiru to use for Renji.

Tea

Rukia campaigns against her brother’s stoicism. Drama with Fluff, I-2.

Character(s): Izuru Kira, Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia

Rukia drew some odd looks, marching through the main offices of Sixth Division with a tray of tea. She smiled back, cheerfully, at the ones who seemed most nonplussed, but that only made them edge away from her.

Perhaps “cheerful” plus “determined” was a bit unnerving.

Well, so much the better. Nii-sama should know she meant business. Rukia called her entry at his door and set down her tray beside his desk. “Good evening, Nii-sama.”

Her brother regarded the cup of tea she poured and set in front of him as if it were a new subordinate of questionable ability. “You have your own captain to take care of, Rukia,” he said, at last.

“I already sent Ukitake-taichou home to his tea,” she shrugged. “You’re more stubborn than he is, so I thought I had better bring the tea to you.”

Her brother gave her a cool look. Rukia returned it with a serene one, not giving an inch. Something that might have been amusement and might have been resignation flickered over his face, and Rukia had to stifle a broad grin as he set down his pen and curved his hands around the hot cup. She turned aside to be sure she hid it, pouring another cup for her brother’s new vice-captain.

“I expect you should take a break, too, Kira,” she told him gently. The way she set his cup down squarely on top of the papers he’d been working on was a good deal less gentle. He eyed her, looking rather bemused.

“Thank you…” he started, slowly.

“Rukia,” she broke in, firmly, before he could evolve a properly elaborate form of address for her. “Just Rukia. Rukia-san, if you must; we were classmates, after all. Renji’s right, you know, you’re too formal sometimes.”

A smile twitched at his mouth. “Rukia-san.”

She smiled back, pleased.

Turning, she caught a glint of approval in her brother’s eyes. Kira must have been more withdrawn than she’d though, if Nii-sama’s relief at this small liveliness in his vice-captain overrode his disapproval for Rukia’s informality.

“Rukia. Do not make light of the noble houses,” he reprimanded.

… even for a minute.

“Yes, Nii-sama.” She patted Kira’s hand in reassurance as she turned away. Nii-sama looked slightly taken aback by her calm response, she noted with some satisfaction.

It was a start.

Rukia settled herself on one of the cushions in her room, just a little gingerly. It had been a vigorous training session today, since Ukitake-taichou had gotten Kyouraku-taichou to come work with her. She was grateful, but even a long hot soak hadn’t been able to get rid of all the aches afterwards.

A low voice at her door made her start a little and then wince at the twinges through her shoulders. She blinked at the figure in the doorway. “Nii-sama.”

With a tray of tea.

Rukia smiled as he came to sit with her, accepting a cup carefully. Her hands were still tingling slightly. The heat of the cup soothed them, and she sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

Her brother nodded, quietly. “You’re making good progress,” he said, after a while.

Rukia had to blink back sudden wetness in her eyes. “I want to make you proud, Nii-sama,” she said, just a little husky. She looked down at her tea. “I know it probably hasn’t looked like it, in the past.”

Nii-sama was silent for a long moment. “I believe you will,” he answered, at last.

Rukia took a quick sip of tea to clear her throat. “So. How was your day?”

Nii-sama looked a bit amused at the terribly domestic question, which pleased her.

Rukia leaned in the doorway, watching her brother. To a surface glance, he was the image of tranquility, sitting with a cup of tea and looking out at the stream that ran behind the east wing of the house. It was the tiny, subtle clues that gave him away. Shoulders a little too straight, arms a little too rigid, mouth a lot too tight.

She’d been afraid of him for a long time, seeing his helpless rage and not knowing where it came from or when it might be directed straight at her instead of brushing past. Now…

Rukia came, soft footed, to sit at his side and rested her head, lightly, on his shoulder.

The shoulder under her tensed and she sighed, closing her eyes. Against the back of the lids she saw the three graves of her first family. “I won’t leave you, Nii-sama,” she whispered.

After a still moment he stirred, lifting a hand to rest on her hair. He spoke very quietly. “Don’t make impossible promises.”

“I’m not.” Rukia let her eyes follow the sun-sparks on the water. “I might be taken from you. I know that. But I won’t leave you.”

Nii-sama was still for a moment before he took her shoulder and turned her to face him. He had the most alive look Rukia thought she’d ever seen on his face. Not an entirely happy look; for all that his lips had curved up his eyes were sad. But alive. She lifted a shaking hand and touched her fingertips to his sleeve. He captured the hand in his own.

“Thank you, my sister,” he told her, and Rukia bit her lip at the note of warmth buried in that deep voice.

“Nii-sama…” She took a quick breath. “Will you come walk with me, for a little?”

It wasn’t until she had him out in the sunshine on the other side of the stream that she let herself grin, for the half-cup of tea he had left haphazardly on the excruciatingly neat floor behind him.

End

Marks of Time

Renji deals with his new job, and the echos of his old one. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya

Renji collapsed into his desk chair with a groan. “Who knew I’d ever appreciate paperwork?” he muttered, slumping over. Paperwork, at least, didn’t explode or kill anyone or change into weird, unpredictable hybrids. It was peaceful and unassuming and just sat there, not making any trouble or even (directly) demanding anything.

A tentative tap came at the door, and he glared at it. He knew he should have taken the time to barricade it. “What now?” he growled. His vice-captain stuck his head, with exaggerated caution, around the frame.

“The eighth squad is back,” Tsumura reported quickly. “They’re all in good shape.”

Renji felt a bit of tension unwind from his shoulders. Of all the good and bad aspects to his new job, the one he hated worst was having to wait, so often, to hear back about the people he sent out. Especially hunting Hollows that made it here, into Soul Society. It didn’t help at all that Rikichi, the little idiot, was in eighth squad.

If he had ever doubted that Kuchiki would find a way to punish him for his rampant insubordination during the craziness over Rukia, he didn’t doubt it any longer.

“Is that everyone?” he asked, frowning.

Reassured that his captain was too exhausted to do any yelling today, Tsumura came into the offices and shut the door behind him. “Yes, that’s everyone back and accounted for. I have their reports,” he waved a fresh sheaf of papers, and then eyed the stack already on Renji’s desk. “Shall I see to them?”

“No, give ’em here. You can take care of the damn requisitions.” Renji traded off paper piles with a toothy if tired grin at Tsumura’s woeful look. Material requisitions was the most boring and most never-ending paper stack of the whole lot.

Sorting out what could be filed straight off and what needed to be passed on to other divisions, on the other hand, was soothing. Monotonous but soothing. The steady scratch and shuffle from the other desk helped. In fact, it helped so much Renji found himself rubbing his eyes.

“Taichou,” Tsumura said at last, quietly, “I can take care of the rest of this. You should get some rest.”

“I’ll just have to read them later anyway.” Renji clenched his teeth on a yawn. “And if I get behind on them I’ll never catch up; there are more every day.”

Tsumura frowned, dark and sudden. That was unusual enough, in his sunny vice-captain, that Renji paused with brows raised.

“There are,” Tsumura said slowly. “Abarai-taichou… does it seem to you that Fifth is getting more assignments than the other divisions?”

Renji leaned back in his chair, considering. He’d been putting the frantic pace down to his nervousness about his new position, but looking at it objectively there were more than he’d been used to seeing with Sixth Division. “Could be,” he agreed, thoughtfully. “Kind of hard on you and me, but it does keep everyone else busy and distracted. That might even be why.”

“Oh.” Tsumura relaxed and brightened again. “Of course; I should have thought of that. The Captain-General is very thoughtful.”

Someone was thoughtful, Renji decided, as Tsumura bent over his papers again. As for who it was and what they were thinking… he’d find that out.

“Kuchiki-taichou?!”

The Captain-General blinked at Renji benignly. “Yes, of course. I thought you knew. But perhaps Byakuya-kun didn’t want his protégé influenced by expectations.”

“Protégé?” Renji stared with his jaw hanging open. He hadn’t just heard that. Really, he hadn’t.

But why the hell would Kuchiki be doing this? What did he gain by pushing Renji to do more than any other newly promoted captain was expected to? To do…

…more.

Renji’s eyes narrowed, glaring at air that he fondly imagined filled by his ex-captain.

“Excuse me, Captain-General,” he gritted between his teeth.

“Of course.” The glint of amusement in the old man’s eyes didn’t help Renji’s temper in the least as he stalked out. By the time he left the inner courts he was running, and by the time he slammed open the door of the Sixth’s practice floor he was ready to breathe fire.

Kuchiki-taichou paused in his solitary practice, glancing aside at the intruder with every bit of his usual chill disinterest. “Abarai-taichou.”

“Just who the hell appointed you my career manager?” Renji bit out.

Kuchiki’s eyes narrowed. “Are you ready to challenge me again, then, Renji?”

Renji jerked back, stung. It was completely unfair to turn his own determination, his own promise to himself, around on him like that, especially after forcing him to compromise it. He fumed. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered at last, with deep conviction.

“Come back when you are, then.” Kuchiki-taichou turned his gaze back ahead and took the next gliding step in his form.

Renji growled low in his throat. “I will.” He strode back out, vibrating with thwarted frustration.

“… and last, the Divisions extend their recognition and thanks to Abarai for bringing the Fifth back up to full strength and more. That’s all. You are dismissed.”

Renji spared a fulminating look for the Captain-General before he had to turn away to deal with Kurotschi’s needling and Kyouraku’s knowing grin.

“You’ve got no idea how glad I am it’s you, now, instead of me,” Hitsugaya muttered in passing. If Renji had been able to spare the time and attention he could have explained at length that he had a very damn good idea. The shreds of his dignity barely kept him from grabbing Ikkaku-san, who was tiptoeing out the door, by the back of his coat and hauling him back into the hall to face his fair share of the successful-new-captain attention.

On the other hand, Ikkaku-san didn’t have Kuchiki Byakuya driving him on. Renji slipped an evil look at his ex-captain only to stop dead, blinking, as Kuchiki… smiled? Yes. He was smiling. Not much but enough for anyone who’d spent a lot of time around him to see it.

Renji shook himself and turned away with a snort. Protégé. What a load of crap.

At this rate, he’d start believing Rukia when she said the icicle-bastard really did have a heart.

He firmly ignored the tiny warmth in his chest that answered Kuchiki-taichou’s faint smile of approval.

End

Only A Story

Byakuya and Rukia speak of regrets and possibilities. Drama with Romantic Angst, I-4.

Character(s): Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia

“Tell me about Hisana.”

It was starting to have the comfort of ritual, for them. Rukia thought of it, irreverently, as her bedtime story. Whenever she and her brother shared an evening, she asked.

“She loved growing things,” Nii-sama said, tonight. Perhaps the gardens had brought it to mind, for him; Rukia had insisted he come tell her what kind of flower was blooming, tiny and blue, on one of the bushes. He trailed his fingers through the leaves and flowers, releasing more of the light, sweet scent into the evening. “Many of these, she chose.”

Rukia smiled, kneeling by the bush. She liked finding things she had in common with her sister. Though she doubted she’d ever have the patience to actually choose and arrange a garden.

“Her love of life was more contained than yours.”

Rukia looked up just a bit guiltily, wondering how much of her thought had shown on her face. Nii-sama wasn’t watching her, though; his eyes were distant.

“I’ve often thought that was why she died, in the end,” he said, voice fading into the dusk. Rukia bit her lip. When he finally looked down at her his eyes were sharp again, though. “How much theory of spirit and form did you have before I took you from the Academy?”

“I had the basic course. I was thinking of the advanced one, but…” Rukia shrugged. “Ukitake-taichou taught me a little more.”

Nii-sama’s tone turned precise and scholarly, the way it did when he explained anything. Rukia hid a smile; she sometimes thought it was a shame that he couldn’t have become a teacher. Though he’d have scared his fainter-hearted students half to death, no doubt. “In the human world, spirit is a function of bodies. In our world, bodies are a function of spirit,” he began, and she nodded. That axiom she was familiar with. “Even among humans, regret and despair can kill, if they’re strong enough. Among us…” Rukia’s eyes widened and she reached up to touch her brother’s hand. “They do not have to be as strong,” he finished. His fingers tightened on hers for a breath.

“The stronger the sense of spirit and self, the greater the power,” he continued eventually. “What you may not have learned is that those two things do not always go together. Hisana had a strong spirit. Her sense of self, though, was… injured.” He looked down at Rukia, and the tight line of his mouth softened. “You are strong in both.”

Rukia stood and gazed up at him solemnly. “I won’t leave you.”

An unaccustomed hint of humor quirked up the corner of his mouth and his hand brushed her shoulder as he stepped past her. “You’re also more stubborn,” he remarked. “Though perhaps I’m not one who should say it, when we’re speaking of Hisana. It was my own stubbornness that brought us together. Even had I not been the head of the house, even had I been able to marry, more properly, from the house to be with her… that kind of thing is only appropriate with a spouse of high rank. Or sufficient honor.”

There was something in his tone, tonight, a weight of meaning, of implication, that was unusual. Stubbornness, propriety, marriage from the house… a spouse of sufficient honor. Rukia stared at his back as she worked through the parallel he might be offering her. “Nii-sama,” she managed, at last.

His voice was soft. “The fact that you are strong enough to bear regrets does not mean that I wish you to do so, Rukia.”

She came to his side, then, and caught his sleeve, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Either way, there are regrets,” she whispered.

His arm came up around her lightly, silently, in the dusk.

End

Stare at the Sun

Renji catches a glimpse of Rukia dealing with her own new position. Drama with some Angst, I-3

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Rukia, Ukitake Juushirou

“Are you sure it isn’t a problem to do this right now?”

Not, Renji had to admit, that the Thirteenth Division seemed any less motivated because their captain was sitting on the sidelines talking personnel instead of directing. At least not the handful of squads involved in this exercise. The shinigami side chased the Hollow side good and sharp.

Maybe it had something to do with who was standing in for Ukitake-taichou. Renji thought he’d probably jump, too, if Rukia was barking at him like that.

It was good to know she hadn’t lost any of the edge off her vocabulary after all those years in a noble house.

His grin lingered as he turned back to Ukitake, who was waving a dismissive hand.

“No problem at all. Might as well get some work done while I’m sidelined.” He frowned a bit. “Are you sure you want to let this one transfer, though? With his battle record…?”

“Very,” Renji growled before he could stop himself. “I mean… ! I’m sure I’ll be able to work around it. That’s a captain’s job, right?” He didn’t think his attempt at a hearty laugh fooled anyone. Ukitake’s eyes were twinkling, for pity’s sake. Renji sighed, wondering who else he could palm off Sukikase on. He’d already been in and out of all the other Divisions. Back to Eleventh, maybe, and hope Zaraki killed the man, this time?

“Captain!” A booming bass exclamation interrupted them. “I have the medication you left behind today! Please accept this sign of my great respect!”

A screech answered. “Kotsubaki, you cheater! I was going to say that! Give me that bottle, I’ll deliver it to the Captain!”

Ukitake sighed, and Renji eyed the approaching scuffle. He really, really hoped Ukitake wasn’t as evil-minded as, say, Rukia, for example, was. Because if he were then he’d offer to trade these two for Sukikase.

Rukia’s head swiveled to fix the pair with a stare to do a basilisk proud. “Kotsubaki! Kotetsu!” Her voice cracked out like a whip.

Even Ukitake jumped a little, and his two fourth seat officers froze—with Kotsubaki’s hand jammed in Kotetsu’s face to hold her off while she flailed for the bottle and Kotetsu’s foot drawn back to kick him in the shins. They blinked at Rukia.

“You embarrass our division and our captain, acting like this,” she rapped out.

They wilted under her stern look, shooting hangdog glances at Ukitake as they shuffled upright, straightening their uniforms.

“Yes, Rukia-san. Sorry.”

“My apologies, Rukia-san.”

Renji had to stifle a laugh, and a comment of Bossy as ever. Those two looked like little kids called on the carpet for getting their best clothes muddy or something. And then their expressions changed, and he started.

Kotetsu gained a small, shy smile. Kotsubaki looked down at his toes before glancing back up, and Renji could swear he was blushing. He turned to look at Rukia, wondering if she’d cast some spell he’d never heard of on them.

And maybe it was magic, but it wasn’t one he didn’t know. Rukia was smiling at them, gentle and warm. A fond look that lit up the air around her like the sun had suddenly come out.

“Why don’t you two go help the Hollow side?” she suggested, taking the medicine with, he couldn’t help noting distantly, a thief’s deft snatch. “I think the shinigami side is having too easy a time.” She deposited the bottle beside Ukitake and herded Kotsubaki and Kotetsu off to join the exercise.

Renji sat down with a thump.

“Abarai-kun?” Ukitake asked, mid-swig. “You look like you could use some of this stuff yourself. Is something wrong?”

“She used to smile like that.” It came out in a whisper as he stared after Rukia, feeling like he couldn’t catch his breath. “She used to.” Before they became shinigami, before she was Kuchiki, before…

Ukitake cocked his head, hair sliding over his shoulder. “So?” he said, softly. “Now she does again? She’s gained things. Family. Friends. That’s something to smile about, isn’t it?”

Family. A brother; Nii-sama. And friends. Best friends; just friends. The words echoed in his head, and the echos hit him like rocks, and Renji turned a glare on Ukitake only to find Ukitake’s eyes dark and serious, not mocking at all. Renji turned away sharply. “Yeah, it is.” He cleared his throat, hoping to clear the harshness from his tone. “So about this transfer.”

“I’ll take him,” Ukitake agreed. “As long as Kuchiki is here, Thirteenth can handle all its problem children just fine.”

Renji’s mouth curled in an unwilling smirk. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

She was back, he told himself, sternly, as they scrawled signatures on all the necessary lines. The Rukia he had grown up with was back, here in the middle of the Court of Pure Souls, kicking ass and taking names and besotting everyone around her again, and he had no place being upset about a freaking miracle having taken place.

Even if he wasn’t the one who had made it happen.

End

Chocolate and Flowers

Byakyua watches Renji and Rukia, and tries to plan a future. Drama with Maybe Romance, I-3

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia, Kyouraku Shunsui

Byakuya stood in the shadow of a roof peak, watching his sister and her suitor.

Not that she would call him her suitor. Rukia didn’t take enough care for her own interests at times. Well, that was his business, as her brother, to look after.

When he could.

He pushed the thought away with an impatient toss of his head and stilled himself to watch again.

It never failed to amuse him how hesitant Renji was with Rukia, sometimes, as if he thought her fragile. On at least one occasion he’d seen Rukia hit him over the head for it.

They played like children.

Well, perhaps not quite like children, he amended, watching with a certain pleasure as Rukia, the chased in their current game of tag, ambushed Renji with a cleverly held binding spell. But they weren’t chasing each other for practice, today. When they practiced together they were more serious.

Renji was more serious much of the time, now, which also gave Byakuya some pleasure. 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.

And Rukia wished to consider him; wished, even, to accept him. That much was clear, to Byakuya if not to Renji. But she held herself to the standards of her House.

To her brother’s standards. To her brother’s side.

And in doing so, she sacrificed this love of hers. Byakuya, as the head of Kuchiki, could only approve of her choice. It was proper and fitting to her place in the House. But when he watched the brightness in her eyes as she sat beside him in the evenings, he knew that was not her reason. She chose for his sake alone—to put his conscience and sense of duty at ease. Watching her laugh, as Renji barely evaded her and left his hair-band in her hands, Byakuya had to swallow guilt that she denied herself exactly the choice he had made for himself.

“Not going to stop them?” a new voice prodded from behind him. “Call her away from the low-life?”

Byakuya rigidly suppressed a twitch. Kyouraku, he reminded himself, liked to get a rise out of anyone who looked imperturbable. Byakuya felt vindicated, once again, in his choice not to have Rukia placed in Kyouraku’s division, despite the fact that Ise Nanao would have made a good role model.

“Or are you planning to throw her to him?” Kyouraku continued, when Byakuya didn’t answer. “Have you really gotten that much political savvy?”

That got a raised brow. “What?”

“Didn’t think so,” Kyouraku sighed, bracing an overly familiar elbow on Byakuya’s shoulder as he leaned forward to watch Rukia tackle Renji, to very little effect, below them. “I swear, Rukia-chan practices better politics and diplomacy just by breathing than you ever could by making speeches.”

Speeches? Byakuya gave his fellow captain a chilly look. What was the man talking about?

“Not that you ever would,” Kyouraku allowed, in face of the disdain directed at him. “But the point stands. People gather to Rukia-chan. She can bring together the most unlikely sorts.”

Considering how his sister seemed to be handling Kotetsu Kiyone and Kotsubaki Sentarou, Byakuya had to admit that this was undeniably true.

“Which is a good thing, considering how many of our captains come from Rukongai, these days,” Kyouraku continued, in a meditative tone. “It’ll be interesting to see who all winds up in the Chamber of Forty-six, this time.”

Byakuya stiffened.

“Well! It was nice talking at you again, Byakuya-kun.” Kyouraku gave him a hearty clap on the shoulder that failed to budge him, and was gone.

Byakuya forced his breathing even, staring blindly down at the two below him. Kyouraku couldn’t possibly think that commoners would enter… that the noble houses would have to makes such accommodations…

Surely not.

Others might, though. And Byakuya’s gaze downward sharpened. If others thought so… perhaps there was a way. A way to keep his sister and yet give her what she wanted so much.

Renji turned at bay and caught Rukia against him, for a moment, and their play drowned in a long stare before they both broke away and looked elsewhere.

Perhaps.

End

Conspiracy

Ukitake and Kyouraku discuss the general success of their plans. Drama, I-2

Character(s): Kyouraku Shunsui, Ukitake Juushirou

Juushirou leaned back with a sigh, waving off the fourth cup of sake Kyouraku offered. “Do you really think this is going to work out?” he asked, frowning.

“Of course it will.” Kyouraku emptied his own cup. “Rukia-chan is brilliant at this kind of thing.” His eyes glinted under the mess of his hair as he slanted a small smile at Juushirou. “Kind of like you; after all, how many other people can actually call themselves Byakuya-kun’s friend? Besides,” somehow a full cup was in Juushirou’s hand again, “she has powerful potential but she just doesn’t think like a warrior. That whole mess with the Kurosaki boy would never have happened if she did. This will be the best thing for her.”

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. “Yes, well, you’re not bad at it, yourself, one on one at least.” His lips quirked. “Though I’m not sure you could have been more obvious with Byakuya unless you’d hit him over the head with a hammer.”

“He’s got a thick skull when it comes to new things.” Kyouraku’s airy wave didn’t spill a drop. “Now. How long before you think Rukia-chan will be ready?”

“She’ll be promoted, formally, within the next year, at this rate,” Juushirou mused. “Give her a little time as a vice captain, to become better known to the officers of other divisions. Hmm. I don’t think we can really expect to get her appointed in less than five years.” He chuckled, remembering. “Not that she isn’t capable, now. You should have been there yesterday. I’ve never seen anyone besides Unohana herself calm Isane down that fast.”

Kyouraku grinned. “That’s our Rukia-chan.”

Juushirou rested a meditative look on the water visible through his open door. “Can we keep this up, though? You know Genryuusai-sensei doesn’t like the Court Guardians interfering in politics.”

Kyouraku snorted into his cup at this perennial reminder. “It’s a little late for that, now. As soon as the Forty-six were murdered we were all in it up to our necks. The old stick-in-the-mud just doesn’t want to admit it.” Exasperation and affection mixed about equally in his face as he grabbed the sake jug. Juushirou smiled.

“Perhaps he’s just cranky because the crisis interrupted his retirement plans,” he offered. “I still think he was planning to pass the title on, in the next century or so. And he certainly can’t choose either of us for that, now, no matter how right we turned out to be.”

Kyouraku’s eyes softened into the speculative haze that usually preceded his most innovative and trouble-making ideas. Juushirou braced himself.

“It’s really to bad that the Kurosaki boy is still living as a human. He’d be a great successor as Captain-General,” Kyouraku murmured, dreamily. “Him for the militant side, and Rukia-chan for the basic ruling and policy. He’s got charisma to match hers, in his own way. It’d be the perfect division of talents.”

Juushirou stared at him, wide-eyed. “Kurosaki…” he repeated, a bit weakly, “as Captain-General…”

“Well,” Kyouraku said reasonably, “he does think like a warrior, his potential is ridiculously high, and his allegiance to the shinigami is unshakeable. He’s the star of Rukia-chan’s portfolio, on that count.”

Juushirou gave in and held out his cup, wordlessly. Kyouraku grinned as he refilled it.

“Still,” Juushirou persisted, a bit raspily having tossed back the entire cup in one go, “you think the Kuchikis will get through this in one piece? I shudder to imagine how Byakuya-kun will choose to go about it, now he’s got the idea in his head.” He paused, considering. “And I shudder even more to imagine how Rukia will react.”

“She’s his match in stubbornness,” Kyouraku agreed easily, “but she couldn’t manage to kill him yet. I’m pretty sure.”

“You’re so reassuring,” Juushirou muttered.

Kyouraku’s laughter floated out over the water.

End

Easier

Renji broods on his relationship to the Kuchiki family. Drama, I-2

Character(s): Abarai Renji

Life would be so much easier if he could just hate the bastard.

Hate him for being a cold fish. For having stifled Rukia’s light, her life, for so long. For having damn near killed her with his idiotic, stick-up-the-ass notion of a noble’s honor.

Hate him for not giving a damn about the rest of the world. For not even noticing anyone without a noble name. For his terrifying strength and infuriating sureness.

It would be easier.

It just wouldn’t work.

Renji leaned back on his roof, folding his arms behind his head, watching a puff of cloud creep across the sky.

Nothing was ever easy, with Kuchiki Byakuya. Rukia had been hurt already, when he’d taken her in, and he’d only hurt her worse. Renji was still angry about that. But he couldn’t deny that it was Kuchiki who had healed Rukia, too.

On especially sympathetic days, Renji could even admit that if he had had Rukia and then lost her, the way her sister had gone, he might have gotten just as irrational as Kuchiki. Possibly even for just as long.

Days that sympathetic didn’t happen very often, but they did happen.

Which might just be the part that infuriated him the most.

This was Kuchiki Byakuya they were talking about, after all. The captain who’d treated Renji like a handy piece of furniture for putting paperwork on. The man who blithely assumed Renji would obey his every order without question.

Actually, no, Renji decided, what pissed him off the most was that he’d been chicken enough to let it go on for so long. After all, it was obvious, now, that Kuchiki would give him a measure of respect if Renji stood his ground and didn’t back down.

Ok, so he’d nearly died finding that out. If that were pointed out to Kuchiki-taichou, he’d probably give the person The Eyebrow and call it having standards. The thought made the corners of Renji’s mouth curl up.

And that made him groan and bang his head against the roof tiles a few times.

Never, ever, easy.

He sighed and pulled a piece of paper out of his sleeve, flicking it open one more time. It was a request, albeit a damned stiff-necked one, for his presence at the Kuchiki compound. A request, not an order.

And that alone guaranteed he’d be there, more surely than any order might have when Kuchiki was still his captain.

Renji stuffed the paper back away with a growl. It would be so much easier…

End

Resolve

Byakuya causes there to be romance, like it or not. Fiat Romance, I-3

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia

Pairing(s): Rukia/Renji

The last thing Rukia expected to see, when she was summoned to her brother’s rooms on one of her afternoons off, was Renji sitting beside him, stiff as a board, uncomfortable and looking clueless. Having finally learned a little about how to get around her brother, though, she took a seat on the third pillow lying out without asking anything.

In retrospect, it was obvious that she hadn’t been the only sibling learning how to handle the other.

“Rukia,” her brother said, without preamble, “Abarai Renji, captain of the Fifth Division, wishes to marry you. Given his accomplishments, and the current leadership balance of Soul Society, I judge that this would be a good alliance for our house. Prepare yourself for your betrothal a month from today.”

It took Rukia a few moments to process what he had actually said. When she did she turned a blistering glare on Renji. After the hell she’d gone through to reach some peace with her decision… Her hand clawed at her waist for her absent zanpaku-tou.

“It wasn’t my idea! I didn’t say a thing!” Renji protested, waving his hands in vehement denial, eyes wide.

“Then what,” Rukia growled, “gave him such an asinine idea?” She pointed a violent finger at her brother.

He set a hand over it, pressing hers down. “Recall your manners, Rukia,” he told her severely, “and your position. You are of Kuchiki, and you have a duty to me as the head of this House. And I,” he added with a stern look, “have a duty to the House as a whole.”

Rukia stared at him. Wasn’t it duty to the House that kept she and Renji apart? “Nii-sama, what… why… what are you thinking?” she finally burst out.

Her brother’s face was expressionless. “The influence of the common-born among us begins to approach that of the noble houses. Balance must be maintained. You will marry out of the House, of course. But you will keep the name that is yours, Rukia. Kuchiki Rukia. Keep it and remember the House that you belong to.”

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. “Nii-sama…”

Her brother rose. “This is my order, my sister. I am the head of your House. You will do as I say.” His only concession to the softness of her voice was the brush of his fingers over her hair as he passed her. He paused in the door, back to them. “Though, it being you, I will not be surprised if you return frequently, in an attempt to continue the argument with me.”

The door closed with the barest whisper of sound behind him.

Rukia laughed, small but true, and scrubbed a hand over her eyes, hard.

“Rukia?” Renji asked, cautiously.

“Looks like we’re getting betrothed,” she told him, casual tone not completely successful. She did manage something close to a grin, though. “Figures a girl would have to be ordered to marry you.”

For once, Renji didn’t rise to the bait. His eyes were serious as he asked, “What did you to really just say to each other?”

Rukia’s smile was turning watery, despite her best efforts. “That he’s always my brother,” she answered, softly.

Renji looked at her for a long moment. “Well of course he is,” he said at last. His tone was gentler than his words, and when he rested a hand on her shoulder she leaned into it.

She did shoot one last dire glare at him, even though the film of tears. “Don’t you dare think this means you can coddle me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it the first time,” he murmured, pulling her against his chest. “You and him,” he added as she finally let herself cry, worry and happiness and stress and release all wrapped up in saltwater. “You’re two of a kind, these days. You used to know how to let yourself feel things, Rukia.” A chuckle rumbled through him. “Looks like you taught him how to be something besides an icicle, though, even if he isn’t very good at it yet, so I bet you think it’s a fair trade.”

“It is a fair trade,” she insisted into his damp shoulder. She managed an even breath and chuckled with a hint of teasing coming back into it. “Though I guess he did get a bargain. After all, he traded me you.”

“Oh, right, make it sound like I’m some kind of second-hand clothing,” he protested, indignantly. He was grinning when she looked up, though, eyes brightening as the point of the whole interview finally started to register.

Though the brightness was underrun by a thread of wry exasperation.

“Only he would be so roundabout,” Renji muttered, brushing her cheek dry.

Rukia shrugged. “He’s like that. But it’s his stubbornness that found a way for us, too. I…” she bit her lip. “I didn’t believe there was one.” In answer to that, Renji’s arms tightened around her until she gasped. “Renji, you big oaf, not so tight!”

“You can’t expect me to let go now,” he said, voice rough, not lifting his face from her hair.

Rukia smiled, leaning against him again. “No. You don’t have to let go.”

They were still sitting there when the housekeeper came in to light the lamps after sunset.

End

A/N: Based on my best guesses from the sources available, this kind of marriage-arrangement, in which a highly ranked daughter is married off for alliance purposes but retains her home-clan affiliation (her name), would be fairly unusual but not unheard of or ‘against the rules’. Especially for the first noble family. This also works on the assumption that the Court of Pure Souls more or less runs on the Sengoku-esque political practice that military rank equals de facto nobility, and the degree of nobility depends on how high a rank is achieved. And how many people the individual can get to agree to his re-written geneology. Admittedly, the first practice is more a Heian sort of thing. Think Fujiwara meets Toyotomi Hideoshi. *evil smile* The results should be kind of similar.

Representatives

Rukia and Renji, and, in fact, most of Soul Society, prepare; plotting continues. Drama with Romance, I-3

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Rukia, Kyouraku Shunsui, Ukitake Juushirou

Pairing(s): Rukia/Renji

Two weeks before the betrothal, Rukia found herself drawing duties that could be done well even with a distracted mind. She couldn’t decide whether she was amused or annoyed. Today she was on, she thought, a perfectly innocent walk with her captain, escorting him to see Unohana-taichou.

Or she would have thought it was innocent, except that they kept just happening to pass doors and windows in time to hear gossip about her coming engagement. She was starting to wonder about Ukitake-taichou’s apparent taste for eavsdropping. Suspicion, of course, didn’t keep her from listening.

Rangiku-san’s throaty chuckle caught her ear from the window ahead of them. “I never thought I’d be a mother,” she was saying, sounding amused.

“Could be worse,” Hitsugaya answered absently. “They could have chosen one of us to stand as his father, too, and it would almost have had to be Zaraki, and that…” The rest of the sentance was lost in Rangiku-san’s gales of laughter. “Anyway,” he continued, with an edge of irritation that probably meant he was glaring at his vice captain, “the whole thing just drips with politics. I suppose we all could have guessed that Kuchiki would use an adopted sister as a pawn. Probably would have even if she were his blood sister.”

Rukia stiffened.

“I don’t think that’s all it is,” Rangiku-san said, slowly, as they passed out of ear-shot.

Rukia fumed over the insult to her brother for another few steps, only to break off in surprise when she caught a glimpse of Ukitake-taichou’s expression. Her captain looked extremely smug.

“Taichou?” she asked, eyeing him.

The smugness vanished instantly into complete innocence, which only made her more suspicious than ever.

“I’m just pleased to know that Matsumoto-san, at least, is aware of your genuine feelings. And Renji-kun’s,” he assured her.

“Of course,” Rukia murmured. It was time, she decided, to start keeping an eye out for hidden motives, lest she get caught up unawares in someone else’s scheme.

Again.

Scratching at her window brought Rukia’s gaze up from the… script her brother had given her to read. A quick glance at the clock told her who it probably was, and, sure enough, as soon as she slid the window open, Renji hopped over the sill.

He immediately started pacing.

“Can you believe this?” he asked with hushed outrage, waving a handful of papers. “Little bitty fake trees? A tortise? Yet more sake?!” He thumped down to sit on the floor, glaring at the innocent paper. “With this much sake moving around, why the hell can’t we get more of it to actually drink? I, for one, will need it. Three changes of clothing? I mean… three?” He looked up at her with entreaty. “Are you sure I can’t just stay the third morning?”

Rukia leaned against the sill, grinning. “Sure you can.” She waited for hope to dawn before going on. “As long as you’re the one to go around and tell everyone involved that they’ve planned all this for nothing. Including Nii-sama, of course. Besides,” she added, as he glared, “I have five changes, and all my robes have more layers, so what are you complaining about?”

Renji slumped back, glowering at thin air. “It’s embarrassing,” he growled, at last.

Since they’d already covered the gifts, the salutes, and the clothes, Rukia decided he probably meant the company. “I know Rangiku-san is standing as your mother,” she mused. “Who’s chosen to stand as your father?”

Renji slumped down a little further, and muttered, “The Captain-General.”

Rukia choked back a burst of laughter at the mental image. “Ah,” she managed, voice slightly strained, “well, he is the logical choice to, er, take responsibility for a captain…” Renji growled some more, and she relented, kicking a pillow over beside him to sit down on. “It could be worse,” she offered. “They got Shiba Kuukaku to stand as my mother.” She contemplated the prospect of Shiba-san and Nii-sama sitting side by side for any length of time and shuddered.

When she glaced at Renji, though, he was frowning, more serious than he had been while he was complaining.

“Maybe Kira has a point about the politics thing,” he muttered.

Rukia stilled. If Renji was seeing it, too… “What about it?” she asked, abandoning the scripts and dressing directions.

Renji crossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, while he counted off on his fingers. “Kuchiki, head of the first noble family; Shiba, head of the noble family furthest outside, the most rebellious; the Captain-General, the only real authority left to the Court; Rangiku, the most senior commoner officer, if you go by tenure instead of rank.” He looked at Rukia, eyes narrow. “And then there’s you and me. A commoner Captain, and the adopted noble. This thing sounds like the roll call for some diplomatic meeting.”

“Every faction represented,” Rukia agreed, slowly. “For a marriage. An… alliance of factions. And you and I the result of it.” They looked at each other silently for a long time.

“Rukia,” Renji said, at last, quietly, “what is your brother trying to do?”

Nii-sama? No. Rukia smiled, as the question answered itself in her heart. “Nii-sama is finding an excuse for me to be happy. He’d never believe an alliance like that would really be neccessary.”

Renji snorted, relaxing. “You have a point, there.”

Rukia’s voice chilled and hardened. “That doesn’t mean someone else might not be using my brother’s insistence on tradition and appearances to get what they want.”

Renji’s eyes measured her, and he nodded. “Who?” His tone had darkened to match hers, and Rukia smiled.

“We’ll find out.”

“Rukia, are you sure?”

Since Renji didn’t hesitate at all, walking beside her, Rukia thought he might be asking for her sake rather than from any doubts. “I’m sure that Ukitake-taichou and Kyouraku-taichou are the ones I’ve seen looking happiest about the betrothal. Whether they’re happy for us or for themselves… is what we’re here to find out.”

There wasn’t time for anything more. Kyouraku-san strolled out of Ukitake-taichou’s lake rooms and gave them a lazy smile. “Rukia-chan! Here to see your captain?” He cocked his head. “Why don’t Renji-kun and I let you two talk, then?” He sauntered past, heading back toward the shore. “Surely you have time for a cup or two with me, Renji-kun?”

Rukia wavered in face of his friendly, conversational strong-arming, poised between letting Kyouraku dictate this much and seeing where he was headed, and a more familiar urge to refuse. To balk, and force this dance of secrets and implications over on its side so she could see what it was. Renji’s hand closed on her shoulder, and she glanced up to see a question in his eyes. He would follow her choice, on this.

His trust steadied her confidence. “If you don’t mind, Kyouraku-taichou,” she murmured. “I’m sure you and Renji can entertain each other?”

Renji’s hand tightened before he let go and sauntered to join Kyouraku-san. “Sure we can.”

Rukia nodded and stepped forward into Ukitake-taichou’s rooms, only to pause and blink. Ukitake-taichou was flopped back against a cushion, rubbing his forehead.

“Please forgive Kyouraku, Kuchiki,” he said, a bit muffled. “He doesn’t mean to be infuriating all the time; it’s just habit.”

“This is more serious than just annoying Ise-san because he thinks she’s pretty when she’s mad,” Rukia pointed out, dryly. “Isn’t it?”

Her captain looked up at her, eyes dark but also clear. “Yes,” he agreed soberly, “it is.”

Rukia chewed on her lip for a moment, watching him, before she came inside and sat down across from him. “Taichou. What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“We are hoping to see you happy,” Ukitake-taichou smiled. There was a faint, crooked edge of sadness to it.

Rukia nodded, and waited.

“And we hope to help you along the path you’ve chosen to walk.” He gave her a slightly rueful look. “I admit it was Kyouraku’s idea at first. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t see it in you until just recently.”

Rukia frowned, puzzled. Didn’t see what? “Taichou, what are you talking about?”

He folded his hands over his knee and leaned back. “Tell me, Kuchiki,” he said, in a tone that echoed of late-night sake-speculation to her ear, “if you were guaranteed all your wishes would be granted, what would you wish, for Soul Society?”

“Um.” Rukia stared at him. “First tell me that there isn’t any way to grant all of anyone’s wishes?” A person never knew, these days.

Her captain’s smile was brilliant. “Good thought. There isn’t.”

“All right,” she said, slowly. “Then… I suppose I would wish… for a little more common sense.” Ukitake-taichou made inquiring sounds and she tried to pull her scattered thoughts together. “Everyone seems so distracted by pointless status games, or political manipulation…” she shot a doubtful look at him, and he smiled and bowed his head. “Or things, like the Research Institute, that are just… evil.” She shivered. “I’d wish for everyone to remember what our duty really is. And pay attention to it again, and stop wasting their time like that.”

“You set a very fine example of that to us all, Kuchiki,” he told her, softly, and Rukia couldn’t stop a faint blush. “All we want,” he continued, “is for your example to be seen as it deserves. Seen by all.”

“Do you think I should train toward becoming a Captain?” Though Rukia couldn’t imagine that such traditional patronage would require all this sneaking around, and what could it possibly have to do with her betrothal?

“More than that.” His smile was sad again. “The Fourty-Six are dead, Kuchiki. Where do you think their replacements will be drawn from?”

Rukia sat frozen for a long moment before she surged to her feet. “No!” She was breathing fast. “Locked away in the innermost Court, making decisions without knowing, never free again… No. I could never live like that.” It would be just like being back in that tower with the weight of stone holding down her spirit.

Ukitake-taichou’s voice was gentle and implacable. “Who but one of the Fourty-Six could change that? One of the Fourty-Six with the backing of all the noble houses from first to last, who knows the needs of the commoners as well? One with the personal loyalty of many of the Court Gardians?”

Rukia sank to the floor again, shaking her head silently, eyes wide.

“Besides,” he added, “they would hardly try to isolate you from your husband, and he can’t be taken from his duties. That’s the best part.”

He was just holding up a hand, probably against the start of a snarl that was curling Rukia’s lips, when he paused with his mouth open, staring at the door. Rukia turned to see a slightly dishevelled Renji standing there with a straw hat impaled on his sword.

“What’s wrong?” Renji asked, sharply, looking back and forth between them. “You shouted.”

“Sorry, Ukitake,” Kyouraku-san put in over his shoulder. “But love conquers all. Including senior captains when their sneaky juniors get the drop on them.”

Renji glowered at him, sword point lifting.

“They want me to be one of the Fourty-Six,” Rukia told him, too stunned to be anything other than blunt.

Renji opened and closed his mouth a few times. He shook the hat off his sword, sheathed it and planted his fists on his hips. “Ok. First, better you than a lot of other people I can think of. Second,” he glared at the other two captains, “no one is locking you up where I can’t get to you.” After another few moments of glaring, though, a wicked smile crept over his face. “Third, if you two want to be the ones to tell Kuchiki-taichou that you want to wreck his plans for his sister and make her unhappy again… it’s been a pleasure to have known you.”

“No, no, no,” Kyouraku-san protested, dusting off his hat. “We’d never want Rukia-chan to be unhappy! Lovely girls being unhappy is a terrible thing.”

The other three all rolled their eyes.

“Rukia,” Ukitake-taichou said, seriously, “surely you see why we said nothing to you about this. Nothing is sure. Aside, perhaps,” he smiled, “from your wedding. We’re only holding the door open, in case you choose to go through it.”

Rukia rose and bowed to both of them silently. She needed to get out of here and think about this. “I will consider what you have said,” she replied, quiet and formal.

Kyouraku-san stood aside from the door with a serene smile of his own, for Rukia to pass. Renji waited until they were on the shore before he cocked his head at her, questioning. She glanced back across the still water of the lake and closed her hand around his, twining their fingers together determinedly.

“Whatever anyone else is making of the circumstances around it,” Rukia said, tightly, “our marriage is exactly that. Ours.”

She stalked away down the shore, hauling a grinning Renji with her since she wasn’t about to let go of him.

Not ever.

End

For the Third Time

Very memorable ceremonies. Drama with Romance, I-3

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia, Shihouin Yoruichi

Pairing(s): Rukia/Renji

The whole thing was… memorable. But some moments stood out more than others.

Renji would, of course, treasure to his grave the momentarily flummoxed look on Kuchiki’s face when Shiba Kuukaku showed up for the betrothal in her version of dress clothes. Renji hadn’t known it was possible to roll up the sleeves of a formal kimono, and that was just for starters. But to be honest most of the highlights clustered around the wedding itself.

Renji tugged loose his hair tie, grinning as he considered the past twenty-four hours.

Renji had thought they might be in the clear. The bonfires hadn’t burned any buildings down, Rukia’s litter hadn’t tipped over, bringing her here, neither of them had tripped on their own clothing and broken their necks. So far, everything had gone remarkably smoothly.

Clearly even thinking that was tempting fate.

Rukia was taking her first sip in the series of pledges to seal their declarations when Yachiru’s voice piped up. Yachiru’s very carrying voice.

“So getting drunk together makes them married? Ken-chan, how many men is Rangiku married to?”

Renji stopped breathing. If he moved a muscle, he was sure he’d lose it and start laughing, and then Rangiku would try to kill him, and he couldn’t run very fast in all these layers. A wave of snorts and muffled whoops swept the hall, along with a thump Renji thought was probably Hisagi’s forehead meeting his palm.

Rukia didn’t choke, didn’t spit sake all over him, didn’t even bat an eyelash. She finished the three measured sips and set the cup back down with a perfectly serene smile. Renji had never been more impressed.

And, as he took the next cup, he was very, very careful not to look at the wicked light in her eyes. Rangiku had much too clear a shot at his back if he snickered very loudly.

Rukia set the last sake cup down on its stack with a tiny clink that sounded through the whole hall, and Renji finally exhaled. It was done. It was real. They really were…

Rukia smiled at him and he lost his train of thought.

“You guys done being goopy at each other?”

They both started at Shiba-san’s voice, and Renji looked over Rukia’s shoulder in time to see Kuchiki-taichou giving his symbolic co-parent a quelling look. It didn’t seem to be working. Shiba-san just raised an eyebrow at them, waiting.

“Yes?” Renji hazarded.

Her grin would have suited a shark. “Well, then.” She pulled an innocent looking tube out of her belt and yanked the string hanging from it.

“Party time!”

Balls of colored sparks exploded over everyone’s heads, raining down on the witnesses, a snickering Rangiku, an amused Captain-General, and a totally unmoved Kuchiki.

Rukia laughed and held up her hands to catch them.

“Yo.”

Renji nearly jumped out of his skin, and whipped around to see a slim, dark, wickedly grinning woman lounging behind him, who hadn’t been there two seconds ago. “Shihouin-san!” Rukia turned, too, wide-eyed.

She waved a dismissive hand. “Yoruichi is fine. Figured I’d stop by and drop off congratulations and gifts from me and Uruhara and Ichigo, and all.” She tucked a handful of bright envelopes in the front of Renji’s kimono while he was still blinking.

“How did you…”

She snorted. “Even if any of you puppies could catch me, everyone but a skeleton guard is around here somewhere, celebrating. Or, at least, getting drunk.” She frowned out at the crowd spilling out of the courtyard, off tables and occasionally off the roofs. “Except Soi. I should go goose her or something; girl has to loosen up some time.”

Rukia raised sparkling eyes from the space where Shihouin had vanished, and Renji could tell she was imagining the intense and straight-laced Soi Fong getting pinched. They grinned at each other, listening for the squawk.

Some time after midnight Renji wondered if it was a bad sign that most of the Eleventh seemed to be calling Shiba-san “Aneki”.

Kyouraku seemed very amused by it all, but that could have just been that Ise had drunk enough to fall asleep on his shoulder.

It was late, or maybe early, when they finally retreated inside, and Renji made a fuzzy mental note to get nice thank-you gifts for the men and women of Kuchiki House, and the handful of his own division, who had cleared out the ceremonial trappings from the bottom floor. Navigation was hard enough at the moment, he didn’t need to be tripping over strange furniture.

“Hang on a minute, Renji.”

He wobbled as Rukia slipped out from under his arm. He might have protested, but it was Kuchiki, standing in the shadows by the door, she was heading for, and he wasn’t nearly drunk enough to try to come between them. He doubted it was possible to be that drunk.

He pretended to watch the nearest heap of snoring shinigami.

“I’ll see you in three days, Nii-sama.”

“Of course.”

They were silent for long enough that Renji snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye. They were just standing there, looking at each other.

At least until Rukia made a small, inarticulate sound and stepped forward to wrap her brother in a swift hug.

His hands came up to rest on her shoulders, and only someone as close as Renji was could have seen him press her closer for a moment, before setting her back again.

“Thank you, Nii-sama,” she whispered, and the shadow of a smile answered her.

She was blinking a little extra brightness away, as she came back to his side. Renji eyed Kuchiki and found himself being eyed back. Cool and uncaring as always—at least in dim lighting.

It wasn’t easy to bow at a respectful angle while keeping one’s arm around another person, but Renji thought it was worth the trouble, to see the flash of pleasure in Kuchiki’s eyes before he sniffed and turned away. And Rukia’s silent laugh, against his side.

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.

Rukia curled up on the futon, by the window, leaning her chin on folded arms to look out. Sitting like that, without their uniforms, she didn’t look much older than she had when they’d met, and Renji had to smile.

“There’s a better view from over here,” he offered, sliding down against the wall at the head of the bed and balling up a pillow behind him. Rukia, looking curious, scooted over next to him, punching the other pillow into place.

“Oh,” she murmured.

The two windows almost became one from this angle, and though them they could see a high-peaked roof, alone against the sky. A faintly colored moon hung over it, a slice away from full, turning the lines of the roof sharp and black. Rukia sighed, happily.

It all came down to this. To Rukia leaning easily in the curve of his arm. To showing her a moment of the beauty she loved, instead of just thinking how much she would like to see it. To sitting on a bed that belonged to both of them, in rumpled yukata, hair ruffled by the night breeze.

Rukia smiled at him from the corner of her eye, and tangled her fingers with his, and rested her head on his shoulder.

When Renji could breathe again he lifted her fingers, hesitantly, to his lips.

The moon would wait for them.

End

Break Down the Door

Rukia talks to her brother about career plans. Drama, I-3

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia

Pairing(s): Rukia/Renji

Most of the traditions and symbolism surrounding her betrothal and marriage, Rukia had merely tolerated. She and Renji had both found the tokens exchanged at the betrothal, the carved tortoise in particular, a bit ridiculous, and figuring out how to hold the hair ornaments and veil in Rukia’s short hair had been a trial.

This one, though, she rather liked.

Renji had grumbled over having to add yet another outfit to her accumulated pile, to say nothing of coming along for an overnight visit to her erstwhile home, but when he’d handed over this kimono she’d had to smile. The pattern of white flowers was smaller, now, only winding up the hem and over her shoulders, but the blue of it, and the red obi, exactly matched her best kimono from when they had last been together.

She smoothed it over her knees as she sat next to her brother, looking out at the stream.

“So, they wish to embroil you again,” he mused, eyes cool and distant.

“Is it even possible for someone as young as I am to be chosen for the Forty-Six?” she wanted to know. It still seemed… fantastic to her.

Her brother waved a dismissive hand. “There are ways. It isn’t all that unusual for judges to come from among the Court Guardians.”

Rukia perked up. Now there was a thought that hadn’t occurred to her. A much more plausible one, in her opinion, than trying to hang a sign that said Sage around her neck. “And only two of the six judges have been chosen,” she agreed. “That makes more sense.”

Nii-sama looked sidelong at her. “A vice-captain would have the rank to qualify, even without great seniority,” he observed. “Particularly with a sufficiently influential sponsor.”

Rukia laughed softly up at him. “Then I won’t need any sponsor but you, will I?” She held back another laugh as he settled, a hint of smugness at the corners of his mouth.

It was true, though. 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.

Open it wide.

She had another question, the next morning at breakfast.

“Nii-sama? Was Urahara a good captain?”

Her brother’s tea paused for a moment on its way to his mouth. A contemplative silence lay over the table while he sipped slowly. “No,” he said, at last. “He was brilliant and powerful. His conscience grew, perhaps, above the average. But he did not suit the position of Captain.”

“Hm.” Rukia took a thoughtful bite of rice. “Since Yoruichi-san already seems to have him in hand, perhaps we should leave him in her preserve, then.” She nibbled her lip for a moment before asking, more quietly, “Did you approve of what he grew to be, Nii-sama?”

“That is not something a Captain should comment on.” After a stern look, though, her brother nodded once, silently.

Rukia smiled, relieved. “And I know you liked Yoruichi-san. Good. Then there won’t be any problems when I go to overturn the judgments that exiled them.”

There was yet another pause in the conversation while Renji choked, and she pounded his back helpfully. When he recovered, it was her brother he directed a look at. “Do those two have the slightest idea just what they’re bargaining for, here?” he rasped, pointing at Rukia.

A faint gleam of satisfaction lit the back of Nii-sama’s eyes. “It isn’t likely.”

“Didn’t think so.” Renji shook his head, grinning at her. “You’ve gotten bigger goals since we started, that’s for sure.”

“Have I?” Rukia ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “We have enough to eat, here, all right. But the safe place to sleep… that’s still a problem. Isn’t it?”

Renji’s eyes darkened, and his voice dropped to a growl. “Yes.”

“And that’s what the noble houses are supposed to make sure of, really.” She looked at her brother. “Isn’t it?”

“We serve,” he said, voice low. “We fight.” After a long moment, his chin lowered and he looked at his folded hands. “You may be right.”

“Then I will go forward,” she said, steadily.

Renji’s face lit with a dangerous smile. “Not alone, you won’t,” he told her, foot nudging hers. “Somebody’s got to protect you, after all.” She made a horrible face at him, and then blushed as her brother cleared his throat. She hurriedly smoothed her expression and gave him an apologetic look from under her lashes.

“Our library has the texts you will need to study,” he noted, straight and composed as ever except for a lifted brow at their antics. “Rest assured that I will not sponsor your advancement until your knowledge is adequate.”

That was a Nii-sama sentence if ever she’d heard one, and Rukia smiled wryly. “You never have, Nii-sama,” she agreed, softly.

“You know,” Renji mused, as they made a leisurely stroll of their walk home, “it’s a shame you won’t be going on with your training as an officer. I mean, you’ll be a great judge. But I bet you could have reached ban kai. Your potential was always higher than mine.” A corner of his mouth curved up as he glanced down at her. “Even if you are a shrimp.”

Rukia laughed, low in her throat, not rising to the bait. Well, not the way he expected, at least. “What makes you think I’ll stop training towards it?” she asked, lightly, and tossed a grin over her shoulder at Renji, who had frozen in mid-step. “I have two captains to work with, don’t I? And two more I can tap if I need to. So come on, Renji.” She held out a hand.

She’d been wrong to think a shinigami’s life would be that different, she decided, watching the flash of teeth as he laughed and caught her hand. They were planning to steal something a lot bigger than water jars, this time, but the way they smiled and dared each other with their eyes was the same. And she had to learn to fight fast and hard, because the adults were bigger, still.

This time, though, she thought, smoothing the blue fabric of her sleeve, this time she was going to keep her family alive.

End

Irrigation

Soi is worn out from work and Yoruichi comes to visit. Drama with Fluffiness, I-3

Character(s): Shihouin Yoruichi, Soi Fon

Soi sank to the floor by her writing desk with more of a thump than she would
have permitted herself anywhere but her own rooms. Her eyes slid wearily
over the report that she had left half-written, there; she should finish
it tonight. Well, perhaps another paragraph, at least. She rubbed the back
of her hand over eyes that insisted on drooping.

Perhaps she’d feel better after she got out of uniform.

She managed to knot the ties of her yukata decently and got about half way
through undoing one of her braids before she ran out of energy again.

"Look who’s wilted! Will it help if we put your feet in water?"

Soi jumped half out of her skin, but didn’t make it more than a few inches
around before her visitor wrapped an arm around her shoulders from behind,
laughing in her ear. Soi slumped. "Yoruichi-sama," she murmured.
Strike one more set of intruder tell-tales that obviously didn’t work well enough.

"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?"

"What isn’t?" Soi sighed, brushing her fingers over the pages of
her report. "It
almost seems like…" she bit her lip.

Yoruichi-sama reached past her for her comb. "Hm?"

"Like the Captain-General is losing control," Soi finished, softly.
She didn’t like the thought; it meant that she must have failed in her duty.
But… "Some of the Captains are getting very involved in politics,"
she admitted. "And nothing has stopped them. Not warnings, not lectures,
not keeping them busy with assignments. I haven’t been ordered to act against
them directly, but…" She twisted her fingers together in her lap.

"If you’re ordered to do that, it will mean war within Soul Society,
worse than last time." The flat tone in Yoruichi-sama’s voice contradicted
the gentle stroke of the comb through Soi’s hair. "And the Captain-General
has no right to give you such an order without the decision of the Forty-Six.
The Onmitsukidou are not under him."

"Does it count if it’s the decision of the Sixteen?" Soi asked, bitterly.
And then bit her lip again; that wasn’t becoming to her position…

Yoruichi-sama chuckled, and patted her shoulder. "Exactly. You’re learning,
girl."

Soi ignored the tug of the comb to turn and give her superior a scolding
look. "Yoruichi-sama…"
But Yoruichi-sama only grinned, teeth gleaming in the dusk, and Soi sighed. "And
then there’s Kuchiki,"
she added, one exasperation reminding her of another.

"Which one?" Yoruichi-sama pushed her back around and resumed combing,
separating Soi’s hair to make a single braid.

"Both of them!" Soi glared at the wall, aggravated. "But
Rukia mostly. I just don’t know what she’s doing."

"Getting pregnant?" Yoruichi-sama suggested. Soi could hear the smirk.
"Has to happen sooner or later, with those two."

Soi sniffed. "Everything but that, it seems."
She ticked off on her fingers. "She’s been confirmed as the vice-captain
of Thirteenth Division, and is still training hard, though at least half
of it is in private. She goes for tea, or sake more likely, with Shiba Kuukaku
every few weeks, and that’s where she met the Commander of the Kidoushuu;
they seem to be getting along famously. She’s studying our law, of all things,
with her brother, though I can’t get anyone close enough to tell how far
she’s gotten in it. And she still makes time to go out with the other vice-captains,
and sometimes captains too, and for some reason she’s trying to coax
Nemu to join in."
Soi threw up her hands. "It’s like she decided she wants to do over
her time in the Academy!"

"The advanced course, maybe," Yoruichi-sama murmured, plaiting Soi’s
hair snugly. "What’s Byakuya doing to annoy you?"

Soi rubbed her eyes again. Yoruichi-sama’s hands were soothing, and her eyes
were starting to get heavy. "He’s… just waiting. He must know,
by now, that he’s the most likely choice for Captain-General, when Yamamoto-san
retires. That’s the part that really makes me wonder what his sister is
doing; and what he’s thinking." She tried to stifle a yawn.

"There, now." Yoruichi-sama rested a hand on Soi’s shoulder. "I
said you were learning, didn’t I?" The hand guided her firmly down,
and Soi was sufficiently tired not to wonder too much about the odd lap-like
shape her pillow seemed to have transformed into. Yoruichi-sama’s hand,
stroking her hair, lulled her into sleep even as she mumbled a protest
about finishing her report…

Soi woke up when the sun from her open window started to shine in her eyes.
Leaning up on her elbow she found that she’d been tucked up on her futon.
And that Yoruichi-sama was gone again. And, as the breeze fluttered pages
on her desk, that her report was completed.

At the end, in her own handwriting, was a suggestion that Hitsugaya Toushirou
be considered for the position of Captain-General.

The new note, tucked under her inkstone, was in Yoruichi-sama’s hand.

"That should confuse them all enough to slow them down. Hurry and
catch up!"

Soi pressed the note to her cheek and smiled.

End

At Your Feet

Renji contemplates how he acts with his captain. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Byakuya/Renji, any form of power play. Porn with Characterization, I-3.

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya

Pairing(s): Byakuya/Renji

Renji almost never gave his captain a full salute.

Other people almost never noticed.

Renji figured it was just Kuchiki-taichou’s attitude that kept them from seeing it, the same way everyone thought Kuchiki-taichou was taller than he really was. But he noticed. He watched the way the other vice-captains were with their captains. There were the casual ones like Rangiku and Yachiru who teased everyone, including their superiors. There were the punctilious ones like Iba and Hisagi who wouldn’t dream of reporting without a formal bow. There were resentful ones like Oomaeda and exasperated ones like Ise, not that he could blame her, but there didn’t seem to be any other vice-captains quite like him.

Ones who were always proper. Always respectful. But almost never knelt down in a full salute.

Renji knew no one had noticed because no one said anything. No one looked surprised when he and his captain met. No one ever mentioned how odd it was that Kuchiki-taichou didn’t seem to mind, when he was such a stickler for formality.

So Renji never had to decide whether or not to tell anyone that he thought Kuchiki-taichou knew the reason why he didn’t.

That he thought Kuchiki-taichou liked it.

Liked it that Renji wanted it to mean something.

Renji never bowed for the sake of formality. Only for rightness. Only when they were out on duty. Only when he chased something at Kuchiki-taichou’s side. When they hunted, it was right; his place was at his captain’s feet, waiting to be released.

Waiting for the light touch of fingers against his nape that made him bow his head and shiver, kneeling beside his captain. Waiting for his captain’s command.

Renji didn’t want to fritter this away in empty forms; this meant something.

Something he’d always kind of thought Kuchiki-taichou liked just as much as he did.

And now he had the proof of it. The proof of Kuchiki-taichou’s hands in his loose hair and Kuchiki-taichou’s cock sliding between his lips. The proof of Kuchiki-taichou’s hips flexing under his hands as he fucked Renji’s mouth slowly. The proof of Kuchiki-taichou’s faint smile at Renji’s moans and the heavy darkness of his eyes, looking down at Renji.

Renji spread his knees wider on the floor and Kuchiki-taichou stepped closer between them, thrusting deeper into Renji’s mouth, slow and deliberate. His hands in Renji’s hair held him still for it and Renji shuddered.

It meant something when he knelt for his captain.

End

Over the Edge

Ikkaku likes a work-out with his captain. Written for Porn Battle, with the prompt: Zaraki/anyone, extra-large. Porn Without Plot, I-4

Character(s): Madarame Ikkaku, Zaraki Kenpachi

Pairing(s): Zaraki/Ikkaku

Ikkaku’s hands tightened on the edge of the desk as Zaraki-taichou’s cock pushed into him. This was the part he liked best.

"Ahh… nn… fuck…" Every sound he made was on a quick gasp of breath, and his muscles quivered. Zaraki-taichou was huge, and Ikkaku’s ass felt like it couldn’t possibly stretch any more, except that more kept coming, sliding into him until he was leaning over the desk on his elbows, panting, achingly full of his captain’s cock.

Ikkaku liked pushing limits, and getting fucked by Zaraki-taichou did that all right.

He felt like he couldn’t move, he was stretched so hard and wide, but Zaraki-taichou was moving, pulling back and thrusting in again, deep. "Oh fuck yeah… oh yeah…" the words tumbled from Ikkaku’s mouth, haphazard, just because he needed to respond somehow to how big Zaraki-taichou’s cock was inside him, big enough to make his whole body shake as it pushed in and out, in and out, and Ikkaku’s ass didn’t even feel open because what was in it was so damn big.

The sounds Zaraki-taichou made, half moan and half growl, vibrated through Ikkakku’s bones, and the feel of the scars and calluses on his captain’s hand as it pumped his own cock made him come right there. He groaned as his body tried to tighten and couldn’t, because Zaraki-taichou was buried deep in his ass, fucking him with short, fierce thrusts.

"Oh yeah." He lay over the desk, feeling wrung out like a towel as his captain pulled back. "Mm. Perfect end to the day."

Ikkaku lived to fight, but when it came to sex with his captain, sometimes the fighting was just a warmup.

End

Through the Sleepless Nights

Hisagi gets a chance to speak with Kensei after the final battle. Written for Porn Battle, with the prompt: Kensei/Shuuhei, second meeting. Drama with Fluff, I-3, Spoilers for the Turn Back arc

Character(s): Hisagi Shuuhei, Muguruma Kensei

Pairing(s): Kensei/Hisagi

The first time Hisagi Shuuhei met Muguruma Kensei it had been in the aftermath of a fight. Maybe it was fate that their second meeting was also the end of a battle. To Shuuhei, it felt a little like a chance to start again.

"Muguruma-taichou… I mean…" And to put his foot in his mouth again, apparently. Shuuhei cleared his throat and settled on, "Muguruma-san."

Muguruma’s mouth quirked fleetingly, and he glanced down at his very civilian clothes. "Yeah, not a captain any more. Heard you were, though." He clapped a hand on Shuuhei’s shoulder. "Good work."

Shuuhei made a throw-away gesture. "Only acting."

Muguruma’s hand turned over, knuckles rapping Shuuhei’s shoulder. "Hey. None of that. Have some pride in yourself." His smile flashed again. "Not that I’m in a position to chew you out any more, I guess."

"That’s not true!" Shuuhei flushed as Muguruma’s brows rose, and he glanced down. "I remembered you," he said, quietly. "I’m here because I wanted to live up to what I remembered."

Muguruma’s gaze traveled over Shuuhei’s cropped sleeves, the leather bands around his right am and throat. Finally his fingers rose to brush over the 69 on Shuuhei’s cheekbone. "Yeah?" His voice was husky. "I’m glad. We didn’t think anyone in Soul Society remembered us well."

Shuuhei turned his head just a little into Muguruma’s hand, aware his ears were probably bright red. "Some of us did."

Muguruma glanced over to where Nanao was talking to Yadomaru, book clasped tight to her chest, eyes bright, and his smile lasted a little longer this time. "So I see." His hand cupped Shuuhei’s cheek for a breath, thumb stroking Shuuhei’s cheekbone. "Well, come on then. Tell me about it while we get this mess cleaned up."

Shuuhei noticed the stares of his division, as he walked next to the man he’d once thought would be his captain, and knew he was smiling too.

End

Coals and Ink

Rukia and Orihime have some soft, quiet moments together. Written for Porn Battle, with the prompt: Rukia/Orihime, grooming as foreplay/a sign of affection. Romance, I-3

Character(s): Inoue Orihime, Kuchiki Rukia

Pairing(s): Rukia/Orihime

Rukia sighed happily as the soft brush stroked through her hair. One of the things she liked best about being assigned here, or at least about staying with Orihime, was having someone to brush her hair in the evenings. It reminded her of growing up, when the girls had saved broken combs to wash in the canal and do each other’s hair with.

It wasn’t at all the same when the Kuchiki servants did it.

She was nearly purring with contentment when Orihime stopped and patted her shoulder. "There."

"Okay." Rukia scrambled up off the pillow and turned to take the brush. "Your turn."

It still made Orihime blush a little and Rukia shook her head, rueful. "You have beautiful hair," she reminded Orihime.

"But people say it’s so loud colored," Orihime murmured.

"Ichigo’s hair is loud," Rukia corrected firmly. "Yours is beautiful." She stroked the brush carefully down the silky length. "Arisawa likes it, doesn’t she?" Rukia smiled. "And your brother?" At Orihime’s faint murmur admitting that, she nodded. "And so do I."

"Thank you." Orihime’s voice as soft.

Rukia gently brushed the hair back over Orihime’s shoulder and leaned in to kiss the curve of her neck. "You don’t need to thank your friends for something like that." She wrapped her arms around Orihime, pleased when she leaned back into Rukia’s hold.

"Thank you anyway." Orihime smiled over her shoulder, the real smile this time.

"Well. You’re welcome, then." Rukia ran her fingers through the warm, shining fall of Orihime’s hair and over her throat, and turned her chin gently to kiss her again. "Very welcome."

The way Orihime turned to cuddle into her, arms sliding around her waist, was all the thanks Rukia needed. "It’s been a long day for everyone," she murmured into Orihime’s hair. "Come to bed?"

Orihime blushed for real this time and nodded shyly, and Rukia lifted one of her hand to kiss the fingers before tugging her to her feet. "Come on then." Glancing aside, a little shy, herself, she added, "I’ll make sure you sleep well."

The hair brushing wasn’t the only thing she liked about staying with Orihime.

End

Ice Is Also Great and Would Suffice

Post Soul Society arc, Rukia has to deal with lingering injuries and Byakuya finds old habits of care returning. Fluff with Angst, I-4, mild spoilers

Character(s): Kuchiki Byakuya, Kuchiki Rukia

The gardens of Kuchiki House were beautiful and manicured, and Rukia had had to search through them for nearly an hour to find a stand of dark-leaved shrubs tall and bushy enough to hide her. She didn’t want any of the servants asking if there was anything they could do for her, Rukia-sama, making it clear that a lady of Kuchiki was not supposed to be kneeling in the cold grass, arms clutched around herself, shaking hard enough to rattle her teeth.

She knew that. She just couldn’t help it.

It had been coming for days; she’d felt it like a presence standing behind her shoulder, stepping closer and closer again until it merged with her backbone and unstrung her. She didn’t know why it was now, why this hadn’t happened when she was locked away or about to die or at some other time that made sense. She just knew she couldn’t hold it back any more, and a few hot tears spilled over as her breath rasped harshly in her lungs.

The rustle of leaves and cloth told her her last bid for privacy and dignity had failed and she hunched closer in on herself, stubbornly not looking around.

Not, at least, until two sandals under a familiar hem stepped into her view and she looked up, half despairing, at the very last person she had wanted to see. Her brother stood, looking down at her, still and silent, and she bit her lip until it bled, trying to silence the choked whimpers in her throat. When he stirred, at last, she was sure it would be to turn his back on her lack of control.

He knelt beside her, sleeves sweeping out around her as he gathered her in and held her, silently, against his shoulder.

It was warm.

Rukia pressed her face into the fabric of his kimono, shoulders shaking with her muffled sobs. If he had said any word, long habit might have caught her back, but he only held her, hand spread against her back, over her heart, shielded for this moment from the rest of the world. So she cried for the cold pain in her bones and the fear that it would never leave—cried until she could barely breathe, could only lie against his chest, every muscle trembling and wrung out, as light fingers stroked her hair.

The sleep that had escaped her for a week crept up and wrapped around her like her brother’s sleeves.

When Rukia’s breathing finally eased, Byakuya sighed faintly. He had known she was distraught, but he had thought it was only the nerves anyone could expect after the battles she had fought. Such things eased in a little time. This appeared more to be work for a healer then a friend’s comfort or family’s presence.

Well, that was easily enough seen to, now he knew.

He lifted his sister in his arms and carried her carefully back through the house, a look forbidding the servants to question or follow. When he tried to lay her down on her futon, though, he met a check.

She wouldn’t let go.

After a few gentle tugs failed, he snorted softly. As stubborn as his sister was, he supposed he might have expected this, and since no one was here to see he let himself smile.

She was well matched to Kuchiki, though she might not know it even now.

He sat down against the wall and settled her securely against him, leaning back to wait out her sleep.

The late sunlight slanted outside the opened screens, burnishing smooth wood boards and dancing lightly over the grass. He had given her this room because the view from it was open and airy, suited, he’d thought, to her spirit. He still thought it suited her, but now for different reasons. Now he noticed the trunk of the tree growing over the pool, slender but strong; the cool shadows and bright, rippling glints of the water; the birds that winged fearlessly down to peck at a scatter of crumbs from, he identified after a moment, the dumplings that had been served for lunch.

The place did suit her, he thought, fingers moving slowly through her hair.

The peace of the afternoon was more than he had found in weeks, perhaps in far longer, and he stirred, frowning sharply as the inner door slid open. Who dared disturb them?

Unohana-taichou stood in the opening for a moment, delicate brows lifted, before nodding to someone in the hall and closing the door softly behind her.

"I see I didn’t need to worry after all," she murmured.

Byakuya stifled a moment of annoyance at the gentle amusement in her eyes and kept his voice down. "On the contrary. I intended to send for one of your people as soon as Rukia woke." And then he really heard what she had said and frowned more darkly. "You knew something was wrong?"

Unohana-taichou knelt down beside them with a soft sigh. "Of course I knew. She was locked in a tower made of stone that suppresses spirit strength, for weeks." She frowned a bit, herself. "It’s intended to make criminals of such weight as to merit that punishment more… biddable, at the end. The lingering effects are not normally an issue." She reached out a hand, and Byakuya stiffened, but she didn’t touch Rukia. Only held her fingers close as if testing for heat.

"As I feared." Unohana-taichou leaned back again.

"What?" Byakuya asked, tensely.

Unohana-taichou’s lips curved in a sad smile. "We who live here are pure spirit, Kuchiki-kun. That tower smothers our souls, like fire starved of air."

Byakuya’s arms tightened around his sister as his mouth tightened on furious accusations. Unohana was not the one he should direct those to.

Her smile turned softer. "Don’t worry too much. She is healing. And you have helped her, already, almost as much as I could myself."

Byakuya had to blink at that, nonplussed. He had no talent for healing.

Unohana-taichou stood and looked down at them, hands folded. "You are a powerful captain, and you hold her within your soul." Her lips quirked. "And she has the wisdom not to let go." She slipped silently back out the door while Byakuya was still fighting down the quick flush he hadn’t felt in many years.

He sniffed and settled himself back again, holding his sister close as evening settled over the garden outside.

Rukia woke slowly, feeling warm and happy. For a time she thought it might be a dream, as she hadn’t felt either for quite some time now, and clung to sleep, wanting the warmth to stay. It didn’t go away as she woke, though, and slowly she became aware that she was leaning on something. Something that moved gently under her cheek.

As if it were breathing.

"Renji…?" she mumbled, confused, and rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t seen Renji today, had she? She pushed herself upright and looked up and froze.

Her brother looked back, calmly.

"Nii-sama? I…" And then she remembered hiding in the garden, and her brother finding her, and flushed hotly, raw cheeks tingling with the rush of blood. "Excuse me, I…" She fumbled for some suitable words of explanation or pardon and found none.

"You are well, now?"

"Of course," she murmured quickly. Rukia wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment; she’d have thought she’d have found out before now, if so, but maybe not. She glanced hastily around, looking for some way to extract herself from the situation.

Her brother’s fingers caught her chin, stilling her. "Rukia. Are you well?"

She looked back at him, eyes wide. He sounded serious. She was suddenly aware of the dim, sunset light, and that hours must have passed while she slept.

While she slept and he held her. The warmth of that hadn’t gone away; it was still with her, easing the long ache away.

Tears threatened to spill over again, for different reasons this time, and Rukia took a deep breath. Her voice only trembled a little when she said, "I’m better, Nii-sama."

He nodded. "Good." He lifted her and set her down on her spread futon, touching her shoulder lightly as he stood and looked out her outer doors. "Perhaps," he said, "I will come watch your garden with you again tomorrow."

"I… I would welcome that, Nii-sama," Rukia managed, husky.

A faint smile crossed his lips as he looked down at her and repeated, "Good." His fingers brushed her hair as he turned and left.

Rukia scrubbed the back of her hand over her eyes again and laughed softly, shakily.

She was warm again.

End

A/N: Title is from the poem Fire and Ice by Robert Frost.

Man of Mouth and Hands

Ichimaru reflects on why he’s with Aizen. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Aizen/Ichimaru, fealty. Character Sketch with Porn, I-4

Character(s): Aizen Sousuke, Ichimaru Gin

Pairing(s): Aizen/Gin

Gin stood at the broad window, looking out on Hueca Mundo. "Such a strange place," he mused.

"Strange enough to regret coming?" his captain murmured from the couch behind him, and Gin turned, lifting a brow.

"You brought us here," he pointed out in a tone of innocent surprise.

"Answer me, Gin." Aizen’s tone was cool, but his mouth was quirked faintly.

"I just did." Gin leaned against the sill, head cocked teasingly. They played this game of perfect respect and sly defiance, and he always looked forward to seeing how Aizen would end it.

After a moment, Aizen chuckled and held out a hand, beckoning and commanding, and Gin came to it. He let himself be pulled down to the couch and laid back on the thin, soft cushion, smiling.

"So you’ll follow me anywhere," Aizen stated, hands sliding under Gin’s coat to find the ties of his white hakama.

"Everywhere," Gin agreed, and smirked as Aizen lifted his bare leg over the back of the couch. He wiggled his toes cheerfully and listened for the stiff, stifled silence of the two arrancar girls who attended the door, who were just as infatuated with Aizen as little Hinamori had been. Likely to the same end. The high couch back would block most of their view, but that was all right. For most people, imagination was stronger than reality.

Not that he really needed extra reason to moan as his captain’s cock pushed into him, but it added a little something.

Other thoughts faded away, though, as Aizen spread him out and fucked him, held him all the while with intense, inhuman eyes, sharp enough, heavy enough, to plane the surface of space and time flat. Gin gasped under them. Every thrust rocked him, curled his spine, and Aizen’s strong, square hands held his thighs stretched as wide open as they’d go.

Aizen never held back in any way, and Gin loved that.

"Making sure of me?" he asked, husky.

"I’m quite sure of you," Aizen murmured back.

Gin finally shuddered and gasped with the rush of heat through him and Aizen smiled, intent and unruffled. He fucked Gin firmly for another few moments, keeping him opened up, before drawing back. Gin could never tell when, whether, Aizen had come, and he loved that control, too.

Aizen leaned over him, one hand curving around the back of Gin’s head, carelessly gentle, and kissed him, and the sound Gin made, low in his throat, had nothing of teasing in it—only surrender.

Picking up the conversation as if they hadn’t paused, Aizen murmured, "So, will you be the first before my throne?"

Gin savored the ambiguity of the question and looked up into his leader’s brilliant, distant, immediate gaze for one bare moment, stripped and exultant.

"Yes."

End

Hearthfire

Future indefinite. Byakuya and Renji; the heat and cool between them. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Byakuya/Renji, cold and hot. Character Sketch with Porn, I-4

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya

Pairing(s): Byakuya/Renji

Renji lay stretched out on his stomach, on his futon and gasped as long fingers traced slowly over his tattoos.

"Byakuya-san…"

Cool lips brushed over the nape of his neck. "Shhhh."

Renji buried his face in the crook of his arm, pretty sure he was blushing like a girl at the reassurance or command, whichever it was. He knew Byakuya wasn’t actually much older than him—a few decades was very little, by the standards of nobles and shinigami—but that icy control always made him feel older. Not that "ice" was something a person would normally think of in a moment like this, but it wasn’t that kind of cold… He lost the thought as fingertips slid down his spine and there was a little pleading in his voice this time. "Byakuya-san!"

He sighed as body heat covered him, Byakuya’s weight settling against his back, steadying him. A palm stroked up his neck, moving his loose hair aside, and a hot tongue slid over the marks on his shoulders and he moaned softly. They’d been here for over an hour and every inch of his skin was touch-sensitive by now. "Byakuya-san, please…"

"So impatient, Renji," Byakuya murmured.

In bed, at least, he could be pretty sure that was teasing and not reprimand. And, yes, Byakuya’s mouth was curving against his skin and he heard a faint chiming. Turning his head he saw Byakuya dipping his fingers in the small cup of oil set beside them in the sun to warm. His breath came deeper and he couldn’t help squirming a little as Byakuya’s fingers brushed his ass, stroking that oil over himself. Anticipation caught in his throat as Byakuya edged his legs apart with his knees and long, slim hands closed on his hips, holding him still.

And then Byakuya was pushing against him, into him, fraction by fraction, so very slowly, and Renji’s hands closed tight on the quilt under him. He moaned openly as Byakuya’s cock slowly, slowly stretched him open, slid into him, and he had no clue how the man managed to go so slow. His hips would have been bucking up helplessly if Byakuya hadn’t held them down. "Byakuya-san!"

Byakuya paused, he actually stopped, and asked, only breathless, "Yes, Renji?"

His ass tingled with the fierce, slow stretch and his whole body throbbed with want. "Don’t stop!"

"Very well, then," Byakuya murmured, husky, and he was moving again, until he was all the way inside and Renji was panting for breath past the flood of sheer sensation.

Renji didn’t know how long Byakuya fucked him like that, slow and controlled, sliding and thrusting in and out until Renji’s whole body was hot and undone with it and he was moaning wordlessly into the quilt. When he spilled over the edge into orgasm, he almost didn’t notice; it was just a change in the texture of pleasure that was already drowning him.

He did notice when Byakuya shuddered, buried deep inside him, and moaned, and dazed as he was that sound still made his breath catch. He smiled as Byakuya settled against his back again, arms sliding around him.

"You’re warm," Byakuya murmured against his shoulder.

"Yeah," Renji whispered.

He knew it wasn’t body heat Byakuya was talking about.

End

The Voice of Experience

While training with the Visored, Ichigo tries to ignore the way he’s drawn to Hirako—who notices anyway. Written for Porn Battle with the prompt Shinji/Ichigo, Captain. Porn with Characterization, I-4

Character(s): Hirako Shinji, Kurosaki Ichigo

Pairing(s): Shinji/Ichigo

Ichigo hit the dirt hard and Hirako strolled up to stand over him.

"That was better," he declared. "Pitiful, but better. Again."

Ichigo spit out grit and looked up at him just a little blearily. "I really hate you."

Hirako showed his teeth. "You’re supposed to, right now. Now get up and do it again."

Ichigo hauled himself to his feet and did.

Ichigo sighed as he sank into hot water. Whoever first had the idea for these caverns, he liked their notions about hot pools, though he wondered where that bastard Urahara had been hiding his.

Hirako slid in across from him with a splash and a groan. "Gonna have to send a letter to the Academy instructors, apologizing for all the bad things I ever thought about them. This teaching shit is for the birds."

"Real motivational to hear," Ichigo grumbled, sinking down further.

The eye Hirako opened to look at him glinted sharp and his voice was low and even. "You should have all the motivation you need already."

Ichigo shifted. "Yeah. I do." On second thought, maybe he should get out now. He’d already figured out that when Hirako stopped acting like an idiot and got serious it made him feel… weird. Yeah, weird was a good word for it. The kind of weird he probably didn’t want to be feeling while naked in hot water across from Hirako.

Hirako had both eyes open and was looking at him like he could see straight through him. That didn’t help.

It wasn’t like Hirako was good looking or anything. Ichigo noticed good looks as much as any normal person and, okay, sometimes in bed at night, when that would-be voyeur Kon had been safely kidnapped by Yuzu, he thought about Renji or Orihime or Rukia or Byakuya or Chad. He knew his own types. Hirako wasn’t any of them.

But when the grinning and clowning dropped away and his eyes focused and his mouth turned serious and his voice got low and intent… well, Ichigo had had a few close calls with embarrassing questions during his time here and it was a good thing hakama were so loose.

He risked another glance at Hirako and found he was smiling, one corner of his mouth quirked up. "Ichigo. Come here." He held out a hand, and damn it there was that soft, level tone again. And then the actual words got through and Ichigo stared at him.

"What…?"

The tilted smile got a hair wider and Hirako beckoned. "Come here, I said." When Ichigo sat frozen he shook his head. "You think I don’t know that look? I’m the closest thing you have to a Captain right now. So, one, I was kind of expecting it; it’s practically traditional. And, two, it’s my job to look after you." That piercing sharpness glinted in his eyes again and he repeated, lower, firmer, "Come here."

A shiver slid down Ichigo’s spine and he swallowed. "O… okay." He edged around the pool to perch next to Hirako, eyeing him sidelong.

Hirako huffed a faint laugh. "Don’t look so panicked. I’m not that crazy woman, Shihouin; I’m not going to ravish you."

Ichigo’s face turned hot at the reminder of Yoruichi-san’s teasing and, while he was sputtering, Hirako wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in close. "Shhh," he said, and kissed Ichigo slow and easy.

Heat swept over Ichigo, and after it came relief. The same relief he’d felt when he’d come up out of his trial against his Hollow and found Hirako smiling, holding out a hand—knowing that he’d won support as well as that battle.

He didn’t have to figure this part out all by himself.

He relaxed against Hirako’s shoulder and kissed back tentatively, just getting used to the feeling of it.

"There," Hirako murmured, "that’s better." He drew back for a moment to move up out of the water, pulling Ichigo along and down among the towels. Ichigo flushed again as Hirako settled over him, unsure exactly what he was supposed to be doing with his hands at this point. Hirako gave Ichigo a penetrating look for a moment and nodded, sliding a hand up into Ichigo’s hair and tipping his head back, kissing him again deeper. A breath caught in Ichigo’s throat and he was tense for a moment before the gentleness of Hirako’s hands registered and he gave in to them with another rush of relief. When long, capable fingers slid down to curl around his cock he rocked into the touch freely, holding on to Hirako’s shoulders.

The heat of the rising steam and the heat of pleasure wound together until he was dizzy with them, panting for breath. "Hirako…"

"I have you," Hirako murmured, low and sure, and the sound was enough to push Ichigo over the edge. Pleasure wrung his body out until he was limp and breathless under Hirako, looking up at him just a little dazed. Hirako smiled and kissed him again, lightly. "It’s okay."

"All right," Ichigo said, softly.

Hirako’s eyes softened for a moment and he held Ichigo against him, quietly, until the others came to find them.

End

Traditional Values

Byakuya takes Ichigo to bed properly for the first time, showing him how these things go. Porn with Characterization, I-4

Character(s): Kuchiki Byakuya, Kurosaki Ichigo

Pairing(s): Byakuya/Ichigo

It had taken Byakuya a while to realize that when Ichigo called him "Byakuya-san" that was respect—to listen to his tone instead of his words, to his body language instead of his grammar. Ichigo kept his respect in different places than most people. It was in the lift of his voice, instead of a fall, when he said Byakuya’s name, in the way his head tilted and his hands opened.

It was in the way those hands spread against his chest, now, and the sound Ichigo made, hesitant and wanting, as though he’d been surprised by the heat of Byakuya’s mouth on his. Ichigo’s brashness seemed to desert him in face of intimacy, Byakuya had observed before.

He gentled his hands, in answer, drawing Ichigo against him, silently encouraging him to relax, to let Byakuya show him how this went. Ichigo answered that guidance, pressing closer diffidently, slowly fitting his body against Byakuya’s.

"Byakuya-san…"

"Yes?" he murmured, watching the uncertainty flicker over Ichigo’s face. He was so transparent. When Ichigo opened his mouth and closed it again without saying anything, Byakuya ran a thumb over his lower lip to distract him. "Don’t worry. I’ll show you." That was the duty and pleasure of the older lover, after all.

Ichigo was quiet again as Byakuya led him through undressing and drew him down to the bed. He let Byakuya press him back, still uncertain but willing, as became a younger lover. His breath caught as Byakuya ran his thumbs up the inside of Ichigo’s thighs, and the sound he made when Byakuya’s hands closed between his legs was husky. The flex of his body as Byakuya stroked and coaxed him into pleasure was taut and beautiful, and finally he cried out openly.

Byakuya smiled and stretched out beside him, gathering him close again. As Ichigo caught his breath he looked up at Byakuya, puzzled, curious. "Byakuya-san… what about—?"

Byakuya set a finger gently against his lips and hushed him with a faint smile. "In time." In fact he enjoyed taking some lovers in this moment, when their bodies were still taut and tight, but Ichigo wasn’t ready for that yet. It was the elder’s responsibility to guage these things, to teach the younger slowly.

He kissed Ichigo slowly, learning the taste of his responses. Ichigo relaxed into the stroke of open hands over his body, pressed closer with faint gasps at fingers stroking him intimately. His hands moved slowly over Byakuya’s chest and shoulders, unaccustomed but determined to figure it out. When Byakuya’s fingers finally slid between his cheeks and rubbed slick and firm against his entrance, Ichigo buried his head in Byakuya’s shoulder and Byakuya gathered him close, murmuring soothing words against his ear.

The way Ichigo moaned as he was opened sent a sharp twist of heat through Byakuya and he caught Ichigo closer, kissed him deeper and more demanding. Ichigo shuddered and answered him, kissing back breathless and open.

"Come," Byakuya told him, sitting up and holding out a hand, his own voice husky and rough from the effort of controlling himself. Ichigo came to him willingly, flushed and hard again. The flush deepened when Byakuya pulled him into his lap, legs wound loosely around Byakuya’s hips. "It’s all right," Byakuya murmured, kissing down Ichigo’s throat, hands curved around his rear to pull him in tight.

"Yeah. Okay," Ichigo whispered. He leaned back on his hands, watching Byakuya. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes again, though, and that wouldn’t do at all.

"Ichigo." Byakuya drew him back, kissing him slow and gentle, hands sliding up his back. "Let me teach you this."

This time it was a definite blush over Ichigo’s cheekbones, but his body relaxed again, pliant. "Okay." He let Byakuya lift his hips and lower him slowly onto Byakuya’s cock, and while his breath cut short and fast, the message of his body was unfamiliarity and not fear. That body was hot, tight even after being opened, and Byakuya had to take a slow breath for control as pleasure wound down his nerves. He pulled Ichigo more firmly into his lap, tight against him, and smiled at his started gasp; he rocked a little out and back in, letting Ichigo feel how it stretched and stroked him. Ichigo clung to him, arms tight around his shoulders as Byakuya moved in him slow and shallow, setting him panting.

"Byakuya-san," Ichigo breathed, "It’s… I…"

"Yes." Byakuya was breathing hard, too, as heat spiraled up. It was time. He closed his hand around Ichigo’s cock again, stroking him firmly.

"Ahh…!" Ichigo pulled taut, head tossed back, and jerked against Byakuya as he came again. Byakuya leaned back and thrust up into Ichigo harder, deeper, taking his own pleasure as Ichigo’s body tightened fiercely around him.

When they were both again still he laid Ichigo down, stroking his body calm.

Finally Ichigo murmured against his shoulder, "Thanks."

"None needed." Byakuya rubbed the back of Ichigo’s neck, eyes thoughtful as he looked down at him. "Is there a particular reason you chose me, though?"

Ichigo’s eyes were clear and direct when he looked up. "You’re kind." That gaze flickered aside for a moment but before Byakuya could question why Ichigo added quietly, "With you, I don’t have to know what I’m doing yet. Or even figure it out. You’ll take care of it."

Understanding slid into place with a click like a sword sheathing. After all he’d been called and driven to do, to muddle through on courage and will and luck, of course Ichigo would desire a guide for this, the one area where his confidence wavered. Byakuya cradled him close and kissed him gently.

"Yes. I will."

End

Internal Dialogue

Renji is protective in bed, even with Ichigo. Written for Porn Battle with the prompt Renji/Ichigo, privately. Porn with Characterization, I-4

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kurosaki Ichigo

Pairing(s): Renji/Ichigo

Ichigo always kind of forgot how big Renji was, until he felt how far back he had to tilt his head to be kissed. Far enough that he was kind of glad for the strong hand that slid up his back to cradle his skull.

Of course, Renji was bigger than most people, which maybe explained his protective streak. Well, except with Byakuya, but that was because Byakuya topped the fuck out of Renji without ever changing expression, whenever they were together, and Ichigo could tell Renji liked it that way. Everyone else, though? Got cuddled.

In the privacy of his own head he had to admit he was kind of glad for that, too, because Renji was big all over. When he was spread out over Renji’s lap, leaning back against the solidity of Renji’s chest, feeling Renji’s cock pushing slowly into him, he was glad that the hands under his thighs were gentle, that Renji was careful to go slow. Slow as it was, the stretch and slide cut his breath into short gasps.

"Nn… Renji…"

"Okay?" Renji asked, voice soft against his ear. It made Ichigo laugh, breathlessly.

"Fantastic."

Renji grinned against his neck. "Good." He lifted Ichigo a little and rocked into him again, and Ichigo moaned.

They laughed, in bed together. Renji understood why he liked having sex this way.

And because he understood, Renji fucked him slow and sure, thrusting in deep enough to make Ichigo gasp, back arched, fucked him until Ichigo’s muscles were trembling and he needed Renji’s arms around him. Only then did Renji close slick, strong fingers around his cock and stroke him hard. Ichigo could barely even moan as sensation wrung him out like a rag.

He did kind of like it that Renji forgot to hold back when he came, and his arms closed tight enough to make Ichigo gasp again.

But it was nice to be moved carefully, after, to be held close until his muscles stopped shaking.

"Teddy bear," he said anyway, against Renji’s chest. Renji laughed.

"I’m nothing like that little plushy pervert."

"Good thing, too," Ichigo agreed, drowsily, wound comfortably in Renji’s arms.

He could tell Renji was smiling, as he drifted off, and that was the way it should be.

End

Between One Moment and the Next

Inspired by iss. 388 of the manga. What if that moment between Aizen and Ichigo had taken a darker and more personal turn? Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Aizen/Ichigo, touch. Porn with Mindgames, I-4

Character(s): Aizen Sousuke, Kurosaki Ichigo

Pairing(s): Aizen/Ichigo

“My hand is at your heart.”

The fingers resting so casually on his chest froze him for half a breath, and maybe that was what made the difference. When his muscles unlocked and he slashed at Aizen, sure and fast as he was Aizen didn’t even dodge this time. His hand caught Ichigo’s wrist and held it easily over his head. The world blurred and Ichigo’s back slammed into a wall, and those fingers on his breastbone held him there. The world sharpened around him as he struggled against them, breath coming faster.

“Don’t be foolish,” Aizen murmured, and Ichigo stiffened as Aizen’s leg slid between his thighs and pressed up.

Ichigo choked on a curse, eyes wide at the twist of heat low in his stomach.

Aizen smiled faintly. “Don’t worry; the others don’t see us. Not for the moment.” His hand lifted from Ichigo’s chest to catch his jaw instead and he completed Ichigo’s shock by kissing him, deep and intent.

Confusion spun through his mind, but when Aizen’s hand slid slowly, firmly, down his throat, only one response sang through Ichigo’s body; his hips jerked helplessly against Aizen’s thigh.

“You see,” Aizen murmured against his mouth, “you need this.” He took Ichigo’s other wrist and pulled it up to join his sword hand, pinning them both against the wall over his head. “You fear your own power.” Long fingers tugged loose Ichigo’s hakama and slid under to wrap around his cock. Aizen’s eyes held his like chain wrapped around his will.

“You need to feel a greater power control yours.”

The weight of that power was locked around him, hard and hot as Aizen’s fist around his cock, and Ichigo bucked into them both and moaned with dark, tempting pleasure when he couldn’t break either grip.

“I’ll let you feel it,” Aizen told him, cool and even as he held Ichigo easily against the wall and jerked him off hard and slow. “And then we will fight. Feel free to use every iota of your power. I will subdue it.” Pleasure pulled at Ichigo’s nerves, answering Aizen’s perfect assurance, his promise. Aizen leaned in closer and finished, softly, “And then, only then, I will bring you back to this wall and turn you around and let you feel the rest. Look forward to it.”

He caught the low, harsh sound Ichigo made under his mouth, pinning Ichigo firmly in place as he shuddered with orgasm. When Ichigo hung limp in his grasp he drew back a bit and smiled. “Tie your hakama again before I break the illusion.” And he was standing back where they’d started.

Ichigo pressed back against the roughness of the wall and stared at the sky and tried not to think about what had just happened.

Or why he had let it.

End

Benefits of Friends

Ichigo doesn’t exactly ask Renji for a favor; fortunately Renji knows what he means anyway. Written for the Drabble Game prompt: Ichigo, clueless and curious. Fluff, I-2

Character(s): Abarai Renji, Kurosaki Ichigo

Pairing(s): Renji/Ichigo

Renji blinked and looked over. “What, you’ve really never…?”

Ichigo couldn’t help bristling. “That’s perfectly normal, you know!”

“Ah, right.” Renji leaned back on the grass again, arms crossed behind his head. “I keep forgetting how damn young you are.” After a contemplative moment he looked over again, frowning. “Wait, so are you asking…?”

“Not asking a damn thing,” Ichigo muttered, setting his back more firmly against the scratchy bark of a tree and looking fixedly off into the distance, not in any state of mind to appreciate the sunlit day or the soft rustle of leaves here at the edge of the Court of Pure Souls. He heard Renji snort.

“Yeah, whatever.” Louder rustling made him look back to see Renji climbing to his feet and briskly swiping grass bits out of his hakama. “C’mere, then.”

“Wha…?” Ichigo stiffened as Renji pulled him away from the tree with a hand at his back. How did people manage this without panicking? What was he supposed to do with his hands, anyway? When he finally settled them gingerly on Renji’s sleeves he looked up to find himself eye to… chin with Renji. “Um…”

“Nah, up here.” Renji’s smile was crooked as ever but his fingers were gentle as he set a knuckle under Ichigo’s chin and tipped it up. Ichigo still couldn’t stop his hands tightening on Renji’s sleeves.

“Renji…” His voice had turned husky, too, and he hadn’t meant it to.

Renji’s smile untilted for once. “It’s okay.” He leaned down and Ichigo’s breath sucked in as Renji’s mouth brushed his, light. And then again. It made shivery little feelings run down his spine. He gasped outright when the tip of Renji’s tongue brushed his lower lip.

“So, you going to let me in?” Renji’s voice was low and quiet and Ichigo had to swallow.

“I… um.” Another quick breath. “Yeah?” And the way Renji smiled at him was positively embarrassing, so he was kind of glad to close his eyes as Renji leaned down again.

The embarrassment frittered away to nothing when Renji’s tongue slid into his mouth, because sensation was suddenly everything. The slow, wet slide sent heat rushing down between his legs so fast he was light-headed. It would have been obscene, that wet softness filling his mouth, if it didn’t feel so good.

When Renji finally drew back Ichigo found himself breathing fast, clutching Renji’s arms, pressed up against him. One big hand was cradling the back of his head, supporting him, and okay, yeah, that was kind of a good thing.

“Good?” Renji murmured.

“Yeah,” Ichigo managed after a moment. “I, um. Thanks.”

Renji’s smile slid into a more familiar grin, toothy and sharp. “Hey. My pleasure.”

Hot face and uneven breath and all, Ichigo couldn’t help laughing at that.

Asking Renji had been a good choice.

End

Naked Truth

Under the stress of dealing with Muramasa, Senbonzakura could do with some reassurance. So could Byakuya. Written for the Prompt Battle prompt: Byakuya/Senbonzakura, behind closed doors. Porn with Romance, I-4, light D/s

Character(s): Kuchiki Byakuya, Senbonzakura

Pairing(s): Byakuya/Senbonzakura

As they returned to Muramasa’s suspiciously ill-concealed hiding hole, Byakuya turned away from the mindless chatter of the swords. He could only stand to listen to their foolishness for so long, and today had been more than enough.

“Where are you going?” Kazeshini demanded instantly, and Byakuya glanced over his shoulder.

“To sleep.”

Predictably, Kazeshini sneered. “Humans.”

Assumptions were a weakness, but Byakuya had no intention of reminding any of these about that. He walked down the tunnel that led to his temporary ‘room’, feeling the heat of Senbonzakura’s suspicious glower on his back.

“I will watch him,” his sword told the rest, and light steps stalked after him. Byakuya didn’t respond in any way.

He did leave it to Senbonzakura to close the door behind them and listened to the faint slide and clack of armor as his sword slumped.

“I don’t like this.”

“Is there a problem?” Byakuya asked evenly.

“I know why it’s necessary.” Senbonzakura came away from the door and moved to light the candle lamps. “But the very idea that I would run wild this long, or that you would tolerate it…!” He tossed down the taper sharply, making the flames flicker. “It offends our honor.”

“Our honor lies in our duty.” Though Byakuya couldn’t entirely disagree. The pretense grated on him, as well. Senbonzakura sighed softly and Byakuya turned to see him lean against the wall, head down. He knew his sword shared his pride, his determination to deal with this intrusion of the family’s past, and frowned a little; was there something else wrong, then? “Senbonzakura?” He moved closer, and Senbonzakura looked up, eyes rueful behind his mask.

“It just wears, sometimes. Forgive me.”

Byakuya quirked a brow. “Forgive you for your loyalty? Most certainly not.”

That made Senbonzakura laugh a little. “Yes, ma—” He caught himself and finished, sober again, “Byakuya.”

Ah. Was that it, then? Byakuya considered their situation and smiled faintly; unexpected benefits, perhaps. “There are other ways than speech,” he murmured, coming forward until he could rest one hand on his sword’s shoulder and set the other on the edge of his mask. Behind it, Senbonzakura’s eyes widened, and Byakuya could hear the intake of his breath.

“Yes.” It was barely a whisper. Senbonzakura’s eyes closed as Byakuya’s fingers tightened.

Slowly, Byakuya lifted the mask away and laid it aside, smoothing back Senbonzakura’s long, sleek hair. His sword shivered under his touch, eyes opening to look up at him with unmistakable hunger. Byakuya closed his hands around Senbonzakura’s face and swallowed his gasp in a slow kiss. Senbonzakura’s mouth yielded and opened under his, and, as Byakuya kissed him again and again, formed silent words against his lips: yes and master and please. Byakuya smiled. The thought of reclaiming his sword this way, too, pleased him, and he ran two fingers down Senbonzakura’s side, where the armor ties were.

“Yes?”

Even through the armor, he could feel Senbonzakura shiver. “Yes.”

Byakuya turned briefly to cast the kidou Falling Snow over the closed door; there would be no unexpected visitors while that lasted. He wanted to take his time about this. Indeed, he had to. Zanpakutou didn’t wear clothes—their form was what they were. To change that was a delicate undertaking.

So he went slowly, unfastening the sode, opening the robe and folding it down, unknotting each cord of the dou one by one. Senbonzakura stood still under his hands, chest heaving quick and light as the armor came away piece by piece. Byakuya set each aside with care; it was his own armor, after all. By the time he came to the last layer of cloth, Senbonzakura was trembling, bare hands winding tight in Byakuya’s sleeves.

“Master,” he said, low and husky, eyes wide, and Byakuya drew him close.

“You are mine,” he murmured. “My sword. The edge of my soul. No matter what conjurer’s tricks a mad and masterless sword plays against us, we will not be parted.” He slid a hand into Senbonzakura’s loosened hair and kissed him again, fierce. The passion of his sword’s response calmed the fury that even he had had trouble holding back this long.

Briskly, now, he unfolded the futon Muramasa had provided for his lone human associate and stripped away the last of their clothes. Senbonzakura went willingly when Byakuya pressed him down, and sighed on a soft note of pleasure as Byakuya’s hands stroked slow and firm over his body.

It was a strange thing. Byakuya could imagine so clearly his sword’s pleasure, the building warmth within him; almost, he fancied, he could feel it himself, a delicate echo in his soul. Perhaps it was even so. The slackening of those long, sleek muscles under his hands sent a curl of warmth through him as well. This was his.

When Senbonzakura started arching up into his hands, increasingly abandoned, Byakuya extracted the vial of sword oil he kept tucked into a seam of his pillow. He hid that more carefully than anything but his own thoughts, here. Zanpakutou needed little of the care mortal steel did. The rituals of care and cleaning were for comfort, and sometimes for vanity, not necessity—a gentle reinforcement of the bond between a shinigami and his zanpakutou. To find such a thing here would make even the fools outside suspect both of them immediately. Senbonzakura laughed, breathless, as Byakuya uncapped it. “It’s good to feel your touch again,” he said softly, and Byakuya smiled a little at the faint color rising over Senbonzakura’s cheekbones.

“Indeed.” He held Senbonzakura against him and rubbed his entrance slowly, gentle as he had ever been with a lover of his own kind. Senbonzakura’s body yielded to him at once, though, and his sword’s sudden flush and half-lidded eyes said all was well even before his low moan drifted on the room’s still air.

“I am yours,” Senbonzakura breathed, hands working against Byakuya’s shoulders. “I am of you. Your will is mine.”

Heat spiked through Byakuya at those words, that acknowledgment, and he caught Senbonzakura closer, fingers driving deeper. Perhaps, he thought distractedly, this pretend estrangement had worn on him worse than he had thought. The press of Senbonzakura’s body against his and the low, wanting sounds he made were far more satisfying than Byakuya had expected them to be. “You are mine,” he agreed, husky.

Senbonzakura made an eager sound as Byakuya turned him over and gathered him back into the curve of his body, rubbing slowly between Senbonzakura’s cheeks. A little more of the oil to ease his way, and Byakuya was pushing in, breath coming harder with the fierce heat of his sword around him.

“Please,” Senbonzakura gasped, and Byakuya could only answer him, thrusting in deep on one long flex of his hips. They moaned together.

After that, Byakuya didn’t hold back, and the echo of heat, and the way Senbonzakura pushed up to meet each thrust told him this was right. This was his zanpakutou, and they were not apart. He sheathed himself in his sword, hard and sure, again and again, and knew the pleasure winding through him was both of theirs.

“Master…” Senbonzakura’s panting breaths hitched as Byakuya kissed the nape of his neck, open mouthed. “Yes…”

“Yes, my sword, my edge.” Byakuya slid his hand down Senbonzakura’s stomach to close between his legs, running oil-slick fingers firmly up and down his sword’s length. Senbonzakura bucked helplessly under him and muffled a low cry in the bedding, and Byakuya groaned as his sword’s body tightened. He pulled Senbonzakura’s hips up and thrust into that tightness deep and hard, again, and again, and then the oddly doubled pleasure was too much to resist and he caught Senbonzakura close as heat shuddered through him, raking his nerves.

They lay twined together for a while, panting softly while Byakuya stroked Senbonzakura’s hair, savoring their satisfaction. Finally Byakuya eased his sword back over and touched his bare face gently. The curve of Senbonzakura’s lips made Byakuya smile too. “All is well?” he asked.

Senbonzakura lifted Byakuya’s hand and kissed his fingers. “All is well, my master.”

Byakuya nodded approval of this and held his sword closer.

They had a little time, yet, and only a fool would give up the truth before he had to.

End

Seven, Eight, Lay Them Straight

Yamamoto wants some captains back. Hirako doesn’t trust him a bit. But there are other people who have a stake in the argument, and he has a harder time saying no to them. Alternate storyline, because if KT really intends to break them up, well I’m just not having with that. Drama, Character Study, A Bit of Fluff, I-3

Character(s): Aikawa Love, Hinamori Momo, Hirako Shinji, Hisagi Shuuhei, Kira Izuru, Kuchiki Rukia, Kuna Mashiro, Kyouraku Shunsui, Muguruma Kensei, Ohtoribashi Roujuurou, Sarugaki Hiyori, Sasakibe Choujirou, Ushouda Hachigen, Yadomaru Lisa

It had, Shinji thought, been a pretty good day, so far. The chill of winter was still hanging on, but it was sunny and crisp out. Everyone was pretty much recovered from the battle with Aizen. There was a new volume of manga out for Love and Lisa to argue over, and Rose had been talking about making something ‘experimental’ for dinner which was always good for a laugh or two.

It could have kept on being a good day if they hadn’t gotten a visitor.

Shinji sat very still on one of their salvaged couches, eyes fixed on the dapper First Division vice-captain standing calm and collected in front of him. “He wants us to what?”

Sasakibe didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed of his message. “Yamamoto-soutaichou asks that the captains of the Third, Fifth, and Ninth divisions return to take up their positions again,” he repeated, hands clasped easily behind him. “May I bring him your reply, Hirako-taichou?”

Shinji lifted a brow and looked around at his fellow Visored, perched here and there on the ledges and second-hand furniture of their home in the mortal world, all stopped dead in the middle of reading or cooking or mending to stare down at Sasakibe. They looked about like he felt. “Well, ladies and gentlemen?” he purred. “Do we have an answer for the illustrious Captain-General?”

Predictably, it was Hiyori who first snorted. “Fuck it,” she spat, arms crossed.

“About like that, yeah,” Lisa agreed, turning back to her manga. “Notice he didn’t ask for any of the rest of us; just three to replace the captains his own damn blindness lost. Selfish bastard.”

“And I can’t say I enjoyed the Court’s last reaction when they thought I didn’t fit into a proper division any longer,” Love added, leaning against a pillar, “I don’t really want to see what he’d try to do with a spare captain this time.”

Rose’s eyes were hard, flamboyance left aside for once. “We served Soul Society loyally and were wounded in that service, and your precious Council would have killed us out of hand like mad dogs. Why should we go back to that?”

“They were told who was at fault and all they did was make the bastards captains,” Kensei growled, muscles flexing ominously as he clenched his fists. “Now they want us to clean up their mess?”

Mashiro took another bite of the dumplings she was demolishing and turned a hand palm-up at her captain, shrugging her agreement.

Shinji smiled. “So there you have it,” he told Sasakibe cheerfully. “Our answer is that Yamamoto should fold his offer into corners and shove it. Anything else?”

Sasakibe sighed quietly. “I will take your reply back. May I say, personally, that I would welcome your presence in the Court of Pure Souls, setting things to rights once more. I don’t believe I’m alone in that.” He bowed to them, deep and courteous, before picking his way back to their door.

“Huh.” Lisa squinted after him. “That was kind of half-hearted. I expected him to argue more.”

Shinji frowned to himself, thinking about the way Sasakibe had phrased that last bit. He wasn’t so sure the argument was over.

When their next visitor from Soul Society was Kuchiki Rukia, Shinji figured he’d been right.

“If he thinks he can twist us around to this by sending one of Ichigo’s friends,” he started, low and hard, as Hachi quietly sealed the barrier again behind her. Rukia instantly looked guilty and Shinji nearly growled.

“It isn’t like that,” she insisted, eyes wide and earnest, and Shinji slashed a hand through the air, cutting her off.

“You can tell Yamamoto, we said no and we mean no. He made his damn bed, and now he can sleep in it! Not once in a freaking century did anyone even…” he trailed off because Rukia had stopped looking guilty and was looking puzzled.

“Yamamoto-soutaichou doesn’t even know I’m here.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her eyes widened and she waved her hands, black sleeves flapping. “I mean…! He approved the project, of course, and Ukitake-taichou knows where I am, so it’s not like…”

Shinji ran the last few minutes through the ‘Juushirou-san or possibly Rukia is putting something over on Yamamoto’ filter instead of the ‘Yamamoto is putting one over on us’ version. “It’s not like you’re sneaking around behind Yamamoto’s back to do something for Ichigo?” he hazarded and laughed when Rukia’s cheeks turned pink. “Well that’s different. All right, what are you here for?” He strolled back to his couch and sprawled out comfortably.

Rukia gathered herself and bowed to him formally. “Hirako-taichou, I’m here to beg a favor on behalf of Kurosaki Ichigo, who you have named your ally.” She pulled a wrapped bundle off her shoulder and knelt down on the concrete to unwrap it at his feet.

It was a sword. A nameless sword, and yet… Shinji frowned and held his fingers close to it, testing that sense of power. He’d never seen a nameless sword that radiated reiatsu like this one. He’d also never felt such a gathering of reiatsu that wasn’t marked with the sense of a single soul. “What’s this?”

Rukia sat back on her knees, hands folded. “Yamamoto-soutaichou ruled that, because Ichigo had lost his shinigami powers in defense of Soul Society, it would be proper to restore them if we could. Many have contributed their reiatsu already.”

Contributed their reiatsu to a sword. Shinji thought about that for a long moment and finally called, without looking up, “Hachi, is this what I think it is?”

Hachigen came and leaned over Rukia’s shoulder, eyeing the sword with interest. “Indeed. As a named zanpakutou can be the channel for a single shinigami’s spirit power, this one could theoretically channel the power of all the contributors into the recipient.”

Shinji caught a glint in Rukia’s eyes before she lowered them demurely, and grinned. “You like the irony?” he asked softly.

That spitfire glint flashed again, along with Rukia’s teeth, before she composed her expression. “It was judged the most stable solution, and the one likeliest to succeed,” she observed coolly.

Shinji laughed out loud. “You convinced them to let you do it, didn’t you?” The very ‘crime’ she’d nearly been destroyed for, and here she was sanctioned to perform it right out in in front of gods and men.

“It was judged Ichigo’s spirit, having accepted my reiatsu once, would most readily accept this infusion from me as well.” Rukia was really bad at looking innocent. Shinji approved.

“Give it here.” He held out a hand, gathering his own strength. In one swoop he could help Ichigo, who had gotten almost as raw a deal as the Visored had, and put a thumb in Yamamoto’s eye. Show the old man he couldn’t control everything and everyone.

Because he might have been wrong about why Rukia was here, but he didn’t think he’d been wrong about what the old bastard was scheming.

When their third visitor arrived, Shinji knew he’d been right, because their third visitor was Hisagi Shuuhei, vice-captain and acting leader of the Ninth Division. The man who had Kensei’s numbers tattooed on his cheek. It didn’t take a genius to spot who must have inspired the kid to become a shinigami, and a dispassionate corner of Shinji’s mind wondered just how badly it had rubbed Tousen the wrong way, that his own vice-captain had a previous loyalty to the captain Tousen had betrayed. Or, hell, maybe he’d been sick-minded enough, by then, he’d thought it was funny.

Kensei was the only one Hisagi had eyes for once Hachi let him in, at any rate. He went straight to Kensei, like he didn’t even notice the rest of them, and after a moment’s hesitation he bowed all the way to the ground. Shinji’s lip curled, because that was exactly the kind of gesture he’d expect from someone on a mission of manipulation, treating Kensei like he was already the kid’s captain. But if that was the case, Shinji didn’t know why the hell the kid was so stiff and awkward about it.

“Muguruma-taichou.” Hisagi’s voice was just as stiff. “The Captain-General sent me to ask that you take up leadership of your division again.”

Shinji propped one foot up on his windowsill perch, considering that phrasing while the other Visored started to slip closer through the concrete and shadows of the building.

Kensei folded his arms with a snort. “So he can betray us twice? I don’t think so.”

Hisagi bent his head. “Your reservations are only sensible,” he agreed quietly.

Shinji pursed his lips. Interesting. If he had to guess, he’d say Hisagi hadn’t wanted to come here, and might just be resenting the way Yamamoto was using him to pressure Kensei, despite wanting Kensei back himself. “So if it’s only logical we refuse, why are you here forking over this steaming crap?” he prodded.

Sure enough, Hisagi’s shoulders tightened, all the more obvious in that sleeveless kosode of his. “The Captain-General sent me,” he repeated flatly.

“The Captain-General can kiss my ass,” Kensei said, rough. “Go back and take the damn division yourself, already.”

Hisagi’s head dipped a little lower. “I’m not qualified as a Captain. It… it will have to be someone else. I’m sorry, Muguruma-taichou.”

Shinji exchanged a long look with Love, brows raised. Love nodded faintly back to him, leaning against the pillar across their ‘entry hall’. This kid had it bad for Kensei, just like Kensei’s whole seated complement always had, except for Mashiro herself and that poisonous bastard Tousen.

And maybe that was exactly why he didn’t want to be here pressuring him. Shinji chewed on a nail and frowned. This could be bad; Kensei had a soft spot for earnestness and honesty.

Kensei blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at Hisagi. “Not like it’s your fault.”

“Thank you for saying so.” Hisagi didn’t look up, and Shinji thought he was leaning harder on the hand he had braced on the ground, now; anyone with less of a poker up his spine would have been slumped. “I won’t trouble you further, sir.”

Kensei shifted his shoulders, tapped his fingers on his belt, and finally asked abruptly. “How are they? The Ninth.”

Shinji swore silently at Yamamoto for having the brains to send a messenger who so transparently wanted not to manipulate them that his very earnestness manipulated them. Or at least Kensei.

“Unsettled,” Hisagi admitted, low. “Not as badly as the Fifth, but… no one likes being without a captain’s strength to guide us. Even if Renji or Ikkaku can be pried away from their captains… I worry that it won’t be enough. Renji is still very new to his bankai, and Ikkaku has been holding himself back; neither of them has the confidence that would make me willing to follow them.” Not the way he’d followed the bare memory of Kensei. The thought hung unspoken in the air.

Kensei’s eyes were dark as he glanced over at Shinji, and Shinji’s mouth tightened. “You know the risks,” he said levelly.

“No one knows them better, except maybe you.” Kensei turned away and banged his fist against a cracked support beam. “My people weren’t the ones who fucked us up, though!”

Hisagi’s head came up and he stared at Kensei’s back with wide eyes, suddenly hopeful, suddenly hungry before he got himself back under control and looked down again. Shinji watched the performance and sighed. He knew Kensei would never deny that kind of loyalty and need; it was exactly how he made them so loyal to him in the first place. “Your choice.”

Mashiro rolled onto her stomach on the couch she was sprawled across and dangled her arms over the edge. “Are we going back?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Shinji rolled his eyes. Deny it as he would, Kensei still thought of himself as a captain, and of Mashiro as his vice-captain, someone he had the right and responsibility to direct without a second thought. “You’re too good for that place,” he muttered.

Kensei smiled at that, tight and thin. “Tell me something I don’t know.” He turned back to stand over Hisagi, who looked up at him with fragile calm. “Tell the old man I’ll think about it.”

“Yes, Taichou,” Hisagi answered, husky, and bowed his head almost to his knee. “Thank you.”

Shinji flopped back onto his elbows with a sigh as Hisagi got up to go. He wondered glumly who Yamamoto would find to pry at their resolve next.

“We have another visitor,” Hachi announced from the ramp down to the red stone floor of their cavern and Shinji puffed a soap bubble from the basin of dishes he was washing away from his face.

“Who is it this time?” he called, dunking the next plate in the rinse water and drying it on his red striped apron. Hachi sounded a little weirdly formal, but he got like that sometimes. “Did the old goat send Retsu-san to scold us or something?”

“Nothing that grand, I’m afraid.”

Shinji jerked around, suds dripping off his hands, to stare. No, his ears didn’t deceive him, that was Kyouraku Shunsui stepping down the ramp all right. From the corner of his eye he saw Lisa’s latest manga hit the ground, pages fluttering as the lurid pink cover flapped closed. He tossed the last plate back into the water, snapping the suds off his hands like blood off his blade. “Kyouraku,” he said, low and warning. Lisa had never been one of his division back in Soul Society, but she was one of his people now and he wouldn’t have her hurt by Yamamoto’s damn politicking.

The man held up his hands, looking apologetic. “I would have told Yama-jii to walk off a cliff, really I would have, but I did want to make sure Lisa-chan was okay.” He looked over Shinji’s shoulder, eyes deceptively soft. “And it is true you’d be welcome, if you ever decided to return.”

“You have a vice-captain,” Lisa pointed out, stifled. When Shinji glanced over his shoulder, she was standing still and straight-shouldered, but her hands were fists half hidden in her skirt.

“Nanao-chan would step aside for you,” Shunsui told her gently. “You have to know that. She idolized you.” His mouth tilted wryly. “Still does.”

“Why should you care?” Lisa lashed out, fists tightening until they trembled. Shinji fell back a few steps to be in support range. Or range to restrain her if she broke and attacked Shunsui, because it would only piss her off more when she couldn’t even hit him. “You never did anything! You never even looked for us!”

Shunsui sighed and tucked his hands in the sleeves of his extravagantly flowered kimono. “Lisa-chan, we didn’t know. None of us knew what had happened until Yoruichi had already gotten all of you to the mortal world.” His eyes never left Lisa. “If we had known, we would have acted. I swear that to you.”

“He and Ukitake-taichou are the ones who destroyed the Kikou-ou, rather than see Rukia-san destroyed unjustly,” Hachi put in quietly from where he sat on the end of the ramp.

Lisa crossed her arms tightly over her stomach, hands gripping her elbows. Shinji ran a damp hand through his hair with a disgusted huff. Lisa was strong and capable, and as pissed off as any of them about the way they’d been sentenced sight-unseen by the damn Council, the way Yamamoto hadn’t done a single thing to save them. But he also knew she’d spent the past century missing her captain. “Go on, if you can trust him,” he told her quietly.

Lisa worried her lip between her teeth, glaring daggers at Shunsui, but Shinji could see the helpless hurt behind the anger. Obviously Shunsui could too, because he took one step that flashed across the cavern and folded Lisa in his arms. “I’m sorry, Lisa-chan,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner.”

Lisa didn’t make a sound, but her hands lifted to close tight on his sleeves.

Love came to prop himself against the washing stand and said quietly to Shinji, “Two to zero?”

“Three, counting Mashiro, as soon as Kensei makes up his mind to go.” Shinji fished out the last plate and scrubbed it viciously. “Shunsui-san will look after Lisa, at least, but what the hell do we do to keep Kensei and Mashiro safe?”

Love considered for a long moment and finally suggested, “Kill Kurotsuchi before he gets too curious for our own good?”

An unwilling smile tugged at Shinji’s mouth. “That’d be a start, yeah.”

He was beginning to have a bad feeling about where this would end, though.

When Hinamori showed up, he went right through ‘bad feeling’ and landed on ‘blazing fury’ instead.

“I am going back to Soul Society after all,” he said, very quietly, “so that I can kill that old bastard with my own two hands.” The edge of concrete under his hand was slowly crumbling and the air was ringing around him. He was aware of the uneasy looks the others were exchanging, the way Hachi’s hands were slowly folding into the form for a restraining kidou, and couldn’t bring himself to care right at the moment. How dare Yamamoto use the girl Aizen broke? How dare he send her here, as if to tell Shinji to take responsibility for the messes his alleged subordinate left behind?

It was Hiyori who stuffed her hands in her pockets and snorted as if she hadn’t noticed the weight of his rage. “Yeah, well, he deserves it. I mean, what kind of moron tries to play the sympathy card on you?”

After a long, taut moment, Shinji let out a breath of harsh laughter and hauled his reiatsu in before he destroyed any more of their home. “No one, you’d think.”

“I asked to come.”

Shinji eyed Hinamori, really seeing her for the first time. The thought wandered through his head that she couldn’t be as delicate as she looked if she was still on her feet after the way he’d just cut loose. “You asked?”

She bobbed her head earnestly, hands clasped in front of her. “After I spoke with Hisagi-san.”

Shinji’s brows rose. “And exactly what did Hisagi say, that made you think coming here was a good idea?” he drawled.

“He ah… well…” Her steady gaze wavered and slid away from his. “You see, Rangiku-san was, er, counseling Kira-kun again, and Hisagi-san said that if he was going to have to take anyone to Fourth afterwards he wanted to at least get some of the sake for himself, and he ah… might have been just a little drunk.”

Shinji crossed his arms and leaned back against a fallen block, still showing the sword-cuts from where Ichigo, or maybe Hiyori, had carved it up during their first fight. Kensei had a hand over his eyes, and Love and Rose were both trying to stifle snickers. “Go on.”

Hinamori cleared her throat, cheeks faintly pink. “Well, he mentioned that, if Muguruma-taichou did decide to return, it would be for the sake of his division. After the story Renji-kun and Rukia-san brought back, about what had happened to you… it seemed to me that was likely the only reason any of you might be willing to come back. And that the best person to make the Fifth’s need clear would be me.” She spread her hands, looking up at him steadily once again.

“Ah, I see,” Shinji said lightly, temper simmering again. “So it was your own personal idea to guilt-trip me, not Yamamoto’s.”

“No, sir!” Hinamori started forward a step, chin up, color high. “I would never…!” She stopped, hands clenching tight on each other. When she spoke, her voice was husky, broken around the edges. “I would never try to… to manipulate someone’s heart like that. Never.”

The shadows slinking behind her eyes and turning them dark were painfully familiar, and Shinji’s temper collapsed in a heap. This girl obviously hadn’t even had his own native suspicion and nasty-mindedness to help her understand what Aizen was. “No,” he said a bit more gently, “I can see you wouldn’t.” He propped a foot against his broken perch with a sigh, slumping a little. “It’s true enough; if I came back for anyone it would be for the Fifth. What happened wasn’t their fault. But the Council and Yamamoto are still there, and… Hinamori?” She was staring at him wide-eyed, hands clasped tight against her mouth.

“He got it from you,” she whispered. “That’s how he made everyone believe it, he was pretending to be you…”

“Hinamori!” Shinji straightened up, reaching out as she started to slide down to the ground, wondering what the hell was wrong with her and why Retsu-san had let her out of Fourth’s clutches in this shape. Mashiro was already there, though, easing Hinamori to the floor in a rustle of hakama. Shinji frowned down at them, unsettled. “Hinamori, what are you talking about?”

She gulped and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I wondered how Aizen-taichou could act like he cared, when he obviously didn’t,” she said, nearly whispering. “I couldn’t understand it. It seemed so real! If he could do all those things, to Rukia-san and the people of Rukongai and you and… and me… If he could do that, how could he even understand kindness well enough to fake it?!” She heaved another breath in and out and looked up at Shinji. “But just now… when you spoke more softly, you sounded just like him. I mean, he sounded like you. He’s been acting like you, all this time, that’s how he did it, that’s how he made everyone believe it!” She was shaking in the casual circle of Mashiro’s arm, but her voice had risen, hard and steady, and her eyes were blazing.

Shinji had to take a few breaths himself, swallowing down his gorge at the thought of Aizen using him, or at least his memory, that way. “You still sure you want me to come back?” he finally managed, almost as lightly as usual.

“Yes!” Hinamori leaned forward on her knees, tense and broken and looking more alive than she had since she’s stepped in the door. “The Fifth was under Aizen for too long, believing lies for too long. Help us re-learn what’s real, what that looks like.” She finished softly, “Please, Hirako-taichou.”

Shinji looked down at her, absently damning his own sense of responsibility. Hinamori had a good instinct for the target, that was for sure. The opportunity to reclaim his division from the traitor who’d stolen them beckoned temptingly, and the determined beginnings of trust in the wide brown eyes locked with his promised silently that things would be different this time. Shinji sighed, reminding himself to do something extremely unpleasant to Yamamoto for letting Hinamori come and close this net around him.

He stalked over and held a hand down to Hinamori. “All right, come on, then. Up!” He hauled her to her feet. “Hiyori!” he called without looking around.

“Yeah?” The single word was toneless and Shinji grinned just a little, guessing what she was thinking.

“Didn’t figure you’d want to go back to the Twelfth, so decide which of us you want to stick with. If it’s me, you and Hinamori need to hash things out between you. Can’t have more than one vice-captain, after all.”

Hinamori blinked up at him for a second before a smile broke over her face like sunrise. “Yes, Taichou!”

“What’s to hash?” Hiyori fired up instantly, which had been more or less the idea. “I have seniority!”

Hinamori peered around Shinji with a flash of calculation in her eyes before she folded her hands and smiled, sweet and steely. “If you’d like to decide it that way, I’m sure that will be fine. How long was your tenure as vice-captain, Hiyori-san? And how recent is your administrative experience?”

“My what?!”

Shinji faded back to lean against a pillar beside Rose while they watched the show. “So, should we wait for them to send your vice-captain after you, too?” he asked. “Just to have the full set.”

“Since it seems I’ll need to rescue mine from alcohol poisoning, I think we’d better not.” Rose tossed back his hair, looking around at the rest of them. “I suppose this is the best way to take care of everyone in the family.”

Shinji’s mouth curled up. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” And he didn’t think Yamamoto had really considered that part of it—that he was taking into Soul Society a group who would never be turned against each other, no matter who ordered it. Not after what they’d been through. Well, too bad for him if the old bastard hadn’t. Yamamoto had asked for this; he’d get it.

The Army of Masks was coming to Soul Society.

Shinji shook his white haori’s sleeve straight with an annoyed twitch of his arm. He hadn’t counted on the uniforms they’d worn for centuries feeling so awkward, though it made sense enough once he thought it through. None of them had had any trouble putting the uniform off, even outside of their gigai—not after the way Soul Society had condemned them to death without a second thought. In face of that betrayal, they’d all taken on the clothing of the mortal world with bitter speed and finality.

But the people who’d condemned them were dead of what Shinji could only think of as the world’s biggest karmic boomerang, and the people who really mattered wanted them to come home. So here they were, gigai packed away, new manga stockpiled, pantry handed over to Tessai, standing in their cavern and looking at each other. Back in uniform. Wondering who was going to be the one to test their welcome and try to open the senkaimon.

“So?” Hiyori crossed her arms, glowering at nothing. “What are we waiting for?” Shinji’s mouth twitched up at the corner.

“For someone to get impatient,” he told her and drew his sword. His tilted smile turned true for a breath at the way everyone else breathed out with relief. When he slid his blade through the edges of the world, he felt it catch at once. The turn to unlock the gates was as smooth as ever, a familiar sense of vastness shifting around that tiny motion, and then the gates were in front of them, silently sliding open one after the other.

When eight butterflies flittered through the light of the gates to hover in front of them it was Shinji’s turn to sigh as relief ran through him in a warm rush. Their reiatsu imprints had been reinstated, and they were recognized. Official. Accepted.

He was still going to flip Yamamoto off the first chance he got. But he couldn’t deny the comfort of having one of those delicate, black messengers hovering at his shoulder, a silent and unmistakable sign of belonging.

“Let’s go, ladies and gentlemen,” he said quietly.

The walk through the passage was silent, so silent the rustle of haori and occasional clink of swords seemed loud. Shinji halted when they came to the bright horizon of the second gate. “Everyone ready?”

“Ready as we’re going to get,” Kensei muttered.

“Let’s go see what our welcome is,” Love agreed, one hand resting on his sword’s hilt.

“They’d better be damn grateful to see us after a hundred years of this shit,” Hiyori growled and hitched her sword up on her hunched shoulders and stomped through the gate. Shinji smiled at her back, far more gently than he’d ever let her see since they shouldn’t really pause in the middle of the passage between worlds to have a brawl.

“Like she said.”

They stepped out of the gate and into the pillared staging plaza of Soul Society.

There were more people waiting than he’d expected.

He’d been sure their vice-captains would be there, because Yamamoto wasn’t the kind to change what was working, and Shunsui-san would be there to pick up Lisa of course. But Juushirou-san and Retsu-san were both standing back among the circle of pillars also, and he spotted the white haired mini-captain lurking back there too. He almost didn’t recognize Kuchiki Byakuya, standing still and poker-faced under another column, and wondered yet again just what had happened to turn Kuchiki House’s mouthy little firebrand into this.

Shunsui-san tipped his hat up, smiling quietly at them. “Welcome back, all of you.”

“We’ll say whether it’s nice to be back once we find out,” Shinji returned dryly and rolled his eyes a little at the dramatically mournful look Shunsui-san gave him. “Lisa.”

She stepped forward, and Shunsui-san’s clowning softened at once into something almost tender. “Lisa-chan.” And then Shunsui-san grinned. “We have a present for you.”

The Ise girl stepped out of his shadow and came forward, holding something clasped against her chest and giving Lisa such a starry-eyed look that Shinji almost laughed. “Welcome back, Yadoumaru-fukutaichou,” she said softly and held out the vice-captain’s badge with both hands.

Sure enough, the stiff line of Lisa’s back eased and she smiled a little. “Are you sure, Nanao-chan?”

“Of course!” Ise was actually blushing. “It will be an honor to serve under you again.” Shinji raised a brow at Shunsui-san, who just looked smug.

Lisa laid her hands over the badge, resting them on Ise’s for a moment. “Well. Thank you, then.” She snugged the badge around her arm with a still-practiced flick and tug and straightened to give Shunsui-san a familiar half-glare. “Well? What are you waiting for? There’s work to do.”

“I’m sure there is, somewhere,” Shunsui-san murmured, probably just to see both of his vice-captains give him matching dark looks. The man definitely had bad hobbies. Well, it wasn’t like anyone nice got to be a captain around here, except possibly Juushirou-san and in his case it just made him more alarming. Why had they thought this was a good idea, again?

Finally, the vice-captains who had been waiting started to come forward, and Shinji’s mouth quirked. Ah, yes. That had been why.

Hisagi stepped up and knelt down at Kensei’s feet, formal and proper, but the husky edge in his voice when he said “Taichou” made Shinji shake his head. Just as well they’d come back, maybe; this one wouldn’t have lasted much longer on his own. The weighing look Kensei gave his vice-captain said he saw it too, and his voice was quiet as he reached down to touch Hisagi’s shoulder. “Yeah. Come on and let’s go see about kicking things back into shape.”

Hisagi took a breath. “Yes, sir.” He stood and gave Mashiro, standing at Kensei’s shoulder, a respectful nod despite the alarmingly thoughtful look she was turning back and forth between him and Kensei. Shinji bit back a snort of amusement, anticipating the volume of Kensei’s arguments with her if she started trying to matchmake.

Even as Hisagi stood, the other vice-captain, a lean blond with a noble-family look to him, stepped up and bowed down to the ground before Rose. “Ohtoribashi-taichou,” he greeted Rose, quiet and contained.

“Kira-kun, yes? Kira Izuru?” Rose smiled with just a hint of mischief. “No hang-overs today, I hope?”

Kira looked up at that, losing his closed expression to a quick blush and a sputter. “Taichou!”

The mini-captain’s curvy, amber haired vice-captain was leaning against a pillar giggling under her own captain’s resigned eye and Kira shot her a slightly harried look.

Rose chuckled and beckoned Kira up with a tilt of his head. “I didn’t have that long with the Third before everything came apart. You know them better, now. Tell me about them.”

Kira composed himself a bit and stood. “Of course.” He answered the silent crook of Rose’s fingers and walked beside him as they stepped away from the gates, and Shinji’s brows lifted. Rose’s gestures were open and welcoming, but he was being very careful not to touch Kira at all.

Was there a single damn division that hadn’t been left broken in the wake of Aizen and his merry psychos?

Certainly not his own. Shinji eyed his own vice-captain ruefully as she came to him. There were still dark smudges under her eyes, and he was pretty sure it would take some serious work before she was truly ready for duty again. Well, that was his job now and he’d do it.

“Hirako-taichou,” she said, low and a little hesitant, starting to kneel formally, head bent.

“Hinamori,” he returned, quietly, hands folded into his sleeves. They’d have to work on her self-confidence when she wasn’t in a blazing temper, for starters. She obviously needed the forms for her own comfort, right now, but he wasn’t about to spend the next hundred years with his vice-captain popping up and down from her knees at every turn. He’d say something once she was a little calmer.

She paused, though, looking up at him. Biting her lip, she slowly straightened. Shinji cocked his head and watched her, keeping his expression neutral, waiting for her to decide what she was going to do. Finally, she nodded, folded her hands in front of her and bowed from the waist. “Welcome home, Taichou,” she said firmly.

Shinji smiled, slow and pleased. “There, now. That’s more like it.” Maybe there wasn’t quite as much work to be done as he’d thought.

Hinamori’s back straightened a little and she nodded back, determined.

“Are we done yet?” Hiyori growled from where she was sprawled out on the steps to the gate.

“Since the old man didn’t show up so I can bawl him out right away, yeah, I think so.” Shinji strolled for the stairs down. “Come on, you two.”

Hinamori and Hiyori closed up at his shoulders as they followed everyone else out into the Court and Shinji grinned. He could practically feel the suspicious looks Hiyori was shooting his new vice-captain behind his back, and he might still be going to regret having made this choice, but right now he was glad he had. Politics and broken divisions and all.

Hinamori was right. They were home.

End

All Our Times Have Come

Hisagi is dealing with his new captain and his old hesitancies. His new captain is having none of those. Written for the Porn Battle promt: Kensei/Hisagi, reunion. Porn with Characterization, I-4

Character(s): Hisagi Shuuhei, Muguruma Kensei

Pairing(s): Kensei/Hisagi

When Muguruma Kensei returned to take back the Ninth Division, it had caused a stir. Compared to the various rejoicing, gossiping, suspicion, and the shock suffered by anyone who had to deal with Mashiro, Shuuhei knew that finding himself working in the same room with his captain was a very small change to be fretting over. On the scale of all the stir caused by the captains’ return, it was really a very minor thing that Muguruma-taichou liked to have his vice-captain close at hand. It could certainly be worse. Mashiro might have wanted her own seat back, and while Shuuhei wouldn’t have fought her for it he knew that would have caused a great deal more upset in the lower ranks. It comforted the people who had never known Muguruma-taichou to have Shuuhei remain.

Even if that did put him in the same office as the man he had a hopeless and ridiculous crush on.

The chair across the room creaked and Shuuhei glanced up, catching the long flex of muscles as Muguruma-taichou stretched his arms overhead. Shuuhei fixed his eyes firmly back on his paperwork, trying to remember the next thing he needed to write.

“About time to knock off for the day. You done with those yet, Hisagi?” Muguruma-taichou’s voice didn’t rumble the way some deep voices did, but there was a roughness to it when it was low. Shuuhei spent a lot of time in this office stopping himself from shivering, just listening to his captain.

“I should finish up a few more pages,” he said calmly, not looking up again. “Please go on ahead, Taichou; I’ll close the offices up.”

“Hm.” Muguruma-taichou’s steps whispered across the wood floor to the window behind Shuuhei’s desk. He could see his captain out of the corner of his eye, bare arms crossed as he looked out. “You know, if there’s one thing that I really do hate Tousen for, it’s this. For teaching my people to be afraid.”

Shuuhei’s head jerked up at that, shocked; Muguruma-taichou hadn’t spoken Tousen-taichou’s name once, since he’d returned. It took a moment to realize what else he’d said, and then Shuuhei flushed, caught between shame at being found wanting by his captain and the need to defend the philosophy of his other captain. “Sir, we aren’t—” He broke off abruptly as Muguruma-taichou turned and one warm, strong hand caught his chin. Dark eyes held his.

“Aren’t you?”

Heat rushed over Shuuhei as he realized what his captain was talking about. He could feel his heart beating against his breastbone like it wanted to get out. “It’s not,” he started, husky, and had to swallow and try again. “It’s not Tousen-taichou’s fault that…”

Muguruma-taichou’s thumb stroked over his mouth and Shuuhei’s words choked off in the shudder of want that ran up his spine. “You won’t get what you want if you don’t ask for it, Hisagi,” Muguruma-taichou said quietly.

Shuuhei closed his eyes, because that was the only way he could look away from the levelness of his captain’s gaze. “It isn’t my place to ask.”

“Bullshit!”

Shuuhei’s eyes flew open again, wide at that barked word, to find Muguruma-taichou frowning down at him. “This is why I say it’s Tousen’s damn fault,” Muguruma-taichou growled, though his hand was still gentle, wrapped around Shuuhei’s jaw. “You hold back with me exactly the way you hold back with your own sword. ” He shook Shuuhei a little. “I haven’t seen you release that damn sword once, since I got back, and everyone says that’s business as usual for you. You’re ashamed of the shape of your own soul, Hisagi! You think I’m going to leave one of my people in that state?”

Shuuhei swallowed and shook his head, wordless. No, he couldn’t imagine the captain he’d come to know letting that go.

“You are what you are,” Muguruma-taichou told him, flat and inflexible. “And what you are is a man of the Ninth. My Ninth. You marked yourself with it, so don’t try to tell me otherwise.” His thumb brushed over Shuuhei’s cheekbone, where the numbers 69 were tattooed, and Shuuhei flushed. A corner of Muguruma-taichou’s mouth tilted up. “I haven’t had much luck yet getting you to release your sword. But I’m betting Tousen never touched this part of you.” He braced his other hand on the back of Shuuhei’s chair and leaned over him, voice turning low again. “So tell me. Shuuhei. Do you want this?”

Shuuhei’s thoughts were tangled up in a knot. It was Tousen-taichou’s words that had kept him in the Division, had given him a way to fight with honesty. That’s what he’d thought, even after Tousen’s betrayal. But Muguruma-taichou… it had been his imagine in Shuuhei’s head that led him to the Division to start with, that made him try over and over to get into the Academy until he did it, that made him work and train until he’d found Kazeshini’s name and shape, and closed his hand on that strength.

Do you want this?

“Yes,” he whispered, hands closed into white-knuckled fists on top of his desk, remembering the first time he’d held Kazeshini’s grips and spun his blades free, the terror and thrill both. Remembering the first time he’d seen Muguruma Kensei standing proud and easy after a battle, and the flash of desire to be like that himself. Maybe it was true; maybe he had stopped at the easy answer. If anyone could teach him to walk in the dark shadow of Kazeshini’s edge without losing himself, it was this man. So he looked his captain in the eyes and finished, “Please.”

Those eyes were hot as Muguruma-taichou smiled. “Yeah.” He lifted Shuuhei’s chin and kissed him, hard and sure.

Heat twisted through Shuuhei’s stomach and he reached up to fist his hands in Muguruma-taichou’s haori; he didn’t want to hesitate, he didn’t want to hold back from fear, and his captain didn’t want him to either. Realizing that one thing, feeling it in the force of Muguruma-taichou’s mouth on his, pulled a faint moan out of him.

He wanted it, yes.

Muguruma-taichou made an approving sound and pulled Shuuhei up out of his chair. “Come here.” Shuuhei had to swallow as he found himself pressed up full length against his captain, feeling the hardness of his body, the solid weight of Muguruma-taichou’s muscles under his hands as he slid them up his captain’s arms. He flushed hot as broad hands slid through the sides of his hakama and under his kosode to grip his ass firmly, and couldn’t help grinding wantonly against Muguruma-taichou in answer. “Taichou!”

“I think,” Muguruma-taichou murmured against his neck, “that when I have my hands on your ass you can leave off the titles.” He dragged his tongue along the edge of Shuuhei’s choker, sending a jolt of heat up Shuuhei’s spine. “And I don’t want to hear my family name from someone I’m fucking, okay?”

Shuuhei pulled in a quick breath; that was the kind of intimacy he hadn’t expected, the kind that made this more than just a captain resorting to unorthodox methods with a subordinate. “…Kensei-san,” he answered, low and hesitant, unsure again if it was really all right for him to have this.

Muguruma-taichou lifted his head and caught Shuuhei’s chin again with one hand, looking at him steadily. “Do you think I haven’t been watching all of you, the same way you’ve been watching me? Looking around to see who still has some goddamn fire in their guts? I didn’t leave you in the vice-captain’s seat just to soothe anyone’s nerves!”

Shuuhei stared back at him, closer to being overwhelmed by this than he was by the heat of his captain’s hands on his skin. “You really think I’m like that.” And it wasn’t a question, but he could hear the wonder in his own voice. “You really think I can handle it.”

Muguruma-taichou slid his thumb over Shuuhei’s cheekbone again, tracing the numbers slow and firm. “You know the answer to that already. You have for a long time, I’m thinking.” A little gentler, he added, “You just forgot for a while, is all.”

Shuuhei took a slow breath, feeling something in his spine release. He lifted his head and looked back levelly. “I’ll try to remember, then. Kensei-san.”

His captain smiled with a flash of teeth. “That’s better.” He wrapped his hand around the back of Shuuhei’s neck and pulled him into a slow, hot kiss. This time, Shuuhei pressed into it, moaning softly as those powerful hands slid under his hakama again, pulling him up the thigh Kensei-san slid between his legs. Shuuhei shivered and let himself rock against that solid muscle, hands groping over Kensei-san’s shoulders and back.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Kensei-san’s hands kneaded Shuuhei’s ass, strong enough to make him gasp a little, low in his throat. “Don’t hold yourself back, Shuuhei.”

The quiet coaxing, the promise of an anchor in the powerful body unmoving against his, undid Shuuhei’s reserve strand by strand until he was riding Kensei-san’s thigh, grinding wantonly against him, kissing back hot and wet and open. He barely recognized his own voice when he groaned, “Kensei-san, fuck me…”

Kensei-san chuckled against his ear, low and rough. “Right here? You want me to put you down over your own desk and fuck you right here and now?”

Shuuhei shuddered and ran his open mouth down the line of Kensei-san’s neck, tasting salt on his skin, and bit down on the curve of his shoulder. Those hands tightened hard on his ass, digging into his muscles and spreading him open, and want twisted a little tighter. Want he didn’t have to hold back. “Yes!”

“Good.“

Shuuhei leaned over his desk as soon as Kensei-san let him go, breath coming hard; he wanted this. He wanted to feel the easy confidence of his captain’s hands on him until that confidence soaked into his skin. As his hakama slid down and warm palms pushed his kosode up over his hips, he sagged down to his elbows and rested his head against the smooth wood, a little light-headed with anticipation. “Kensei-san…”

“Easy.” One hand closed firmly on his shoulder, holding him steady, and tension eased out of Shuuhei’s shoulders, unwound down his back. There was nothing hidden, nothing held back in Kensei-san. He could trust that hand on him, the way he hadn’t been able to completely trust anything for a very long time. When Kensei-san’s fingers pushed slowly into him, Shuuhei laughed against his folded arms, breathless; those fingers were slick. Kensei-san had apparently planned for this.

“I made you impatient with me,” he said, husky with the slide and stretch of being opened up.

There was a faint chuckle in Kensei-san’s voice. “Not impatient quite yet. But I did think about what might get through to you, since training alone obviously isn’t enough.”

Shuuhei flushed a little at that reminder. “Forgive me.”

The hand on his shoulder shook him gently. “None of that. I’m your captain. It’s your job to follow me, yeah, but it’s also mine to know what it takes to get you there.” He sank two fingers all the way into Shuuhei and twisted them slowly. “Not like I object,” he murmured as Shuuhei moaned with the heat tightening his stomach. Kensei-san’s hand stroked down his back and both of them wrapped around Shuuhei’s hips, holding him. “You have what it takes Shuuhei. You spent a long time being sabotaged, right down inside, and you still have what it takes. Remember that.”

Shuuhei reached out to grip the far side of his desk, panting for breath as Kensei-san’s cock pushed into him, thick and hard. “Yes, sir,” he gasped. It felt like the words were as solid as Kensei-san was inside him, and he held tight to that feeling.

And then he just held on as Kensei-san fucked him, hard enough to rock him up off his heels if Kensei-san hadn’t kept a good grip on his hips, pulling him back into each stroke. It was hot and slick and secure, and Shuuhei moaned openly with the feeling of his captain’s heavy cock driving into his ass over and over, deep and sure.

“Let go, Shuuhei,” Kensei-san ordered, rough and husky. “I’ve got you. Stop holding back.”

Shuuhei shuddered like that order was a hand stroked down his spine and let himself cry out at the next thrust, at the burst of heat up his spine, let himself spread his legs wider and push back against Kensei-san, taking his cock deeper, hungry for more. An approving gasp answered him and Kensei-san moved with him, fucking him harder, bracing his hands against the desk on either side of Shuuhei and leaning over him, pounding deep into his ass. Shuuhei let thinking go and just moved, just felt the hot pleasure of being fucked open so hard, abandoning himself to it under the solid shelter of his captain’s body over his. When heat finally rushed him over the edge and wrung him out, he groaned in an already-raw throat and ground his ass back against Kensei-san wantonly. Kensei-san fucked the tightness right back out of his body until he was sprawled over the desk, barely able to moan when Kensei-san finally buried himself deep in Shuuhei and shuddered against his back.

“Yeah,” Kensei-san said softly against his ear. “Like that. Hold on to that, Shuuhei.”

“Yes, sir,” Shuuhei agreed, rather dazed. He felt Kensei-san’s lips curve against his neck.

“I’ll be glad to remind you, of course.”

Shuuhei’s face turned hot. “Kensei-san…”

Deft fingers combed through his hair, stroking damp strands back. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Shuuhei said softly. “For this. For coming back at all.”

Kensei-san’s hand slid down to rest on his nape, which pulled a soft sound out of Shuuhei as he bent his head under that warm weight. “I’m never going to trust the Captain-General all the way again, that’s for sure. But you’re not him. For you, for my division, for the job we actually do when moronic conspiracies and politics aren’t getting in the way… for that I’ll stay.” He tightened his grip for a moment and pushed upright. “So come eat dinner with me and keep me from actually strangling Mashiro the way she deserves.”

Shuuhei slowly pushed himself back to his feet, feeling his muscles burn with the reminder of his captain inside him. “You don’t hold back, Taichou,” he allowed wryly, “but you’re not always completely honest either.” Everyone in the division knew how fond Kensei-san was of Mashiro.

“Oh shut up. One of these days I really will strangle her.” Kensei-san didn’t look at him, but a corner of his mouth was curled up and he rested a hand on Shuuhei’s shoulder again as he tied his hakama. “Come on.”

Shuuhei smiled a little too, feeling himself settle into this new shape of things. “Yes, Taichou.” After too long, it felt like there was light for his way forward again.

And a hand to steady him on it, too.

End

Ink Burns

Fanfiction by Branch

Bleach: All In One

Promise

Understand

Price

Patch

Tea

Marks of Time

Only A Story

Stare at the Sun

Chocolate and Flowers

Conspiracy

Easier

Resolve

Representatives

For the Third Time

Break Down the Door

Irrigation

At Your Feet

Over the Edge

Through the Sleepless Nights

Coals and Ink

Ice Is Also Great and Would Suffice

Man of Mouth and Hands

Hearthfire

The Voice of Experience

Traditional Values

Internal Dialogue

Between One Moment and the Next

Benefits of Friends

Naked Truth

Seven, Eight, Lay Them Straight

All Our Times Have Come