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A Kuchiki’s words were final.
This, Byakuya knew from a lifetime of experience. Moreover, he himself expected never to have to repeat a statement, comment, or command as, clearly, a decision had been reached. No argument would be entertained. No compromise offered. To beg or plead would only dishonor both parties.
“Very well.” Byakuya picked up his chopsticks regretfully. He’d have to eat these bitter ferns and gain nothing for all the effort. Before picking one up, he allowed his gaze to take in the fading sunset, a brilliant clash of oranges and pinks on the horizon. “I am hopeful there won’t be rain. The gardener expects the cherry trees to begin blooming soon. We should see peak in a week and a half.”
Masama followed his glance, but said nothing.
She’d chosen to honor the spring season by wearing a seven-layered kimono which, though mostly muted grays and silver to match her hair, had flashes of pink and lavender here and there. What paint and embroidery Byakuya could see on the fabric were of wisteria vines. Her maids had done her hair up in what he had to presume was the current style of women at court. Parted in the middle, the rest was piled on her head with the aid of decorated combs. Purple and pink wisteria blooms, fashioned of wax, cascaded across the crown of her head.
Wisteria.
Byakuya considered the choice. In the language of flowers, wisteria often meant ‘welcoming.’ So, perhaps, she had come to this meeting with an open mind, willing to listen.
Of course, that had been before he’d brought up the seal and its connection to Kōga.
With an inward sigh, Byakuya turned his attention to choking down the bitter ferns without appearing to despise every second of it. He turned his mind to finding another way to solve his problem. As odious as they were, the Twelfth Division might have equipment able to reconstruct the seal’s spellwork. Captain Ukitkate was rumored to have connections with shrines in the Rukongai, so maybe he might be able to locate something old and ancient there, which might prove to be of aid.
Or perhaps a repair was simply not needed.
The seal within himself might remain mostly intact. Without the aid of the original spellworker, Byakuya had no way of knowing for certain if that was the case, but perhaps it didn’t matter as much as he feared. No one alive knew the precise location of where his uncle had been entombed. Moreover, there was no reason to believe that Kōga’s imprisonment was at risk. Maybe Kōga would simply continue to be suspended there for all eternity, the seal a precaution never in need of testing.
They could live in hope.
Though hope, like compromise, was not something the Kuchiki did very well.
His mind far away, Masama’s quiet voice surprised Byakuya. Her plate of fern heads empty, she asked, “Why was the seal broken? I understand that you encountered this Second Division machine, but why were you in contact with it at all?”
Grateful for an excuse to put his own chopsticks down, Byakuya explained. “The Second Division captain, Soi Fon, who you may remember as the Shihōin hostage, has it in her mind that our Division must be tested for traces of Aizen Sōsuke’s zanpakutō’s hypnotic abilities. Specifically, she is searching for a hidden trigger for a hypnotic suggestion. If I recall correctly, we came into her crosshairs due to some unpleasantness in the Rukongai that stunk of Aizen’s handiwork. One of our number had been moved to act outside of his will.”
“They held him there,” she said softly, her eyes on her empty plate. “My husband. At the Second.”
“What?” Byakuya's question was an expression of affront, of disbelief. Even though he’d seen the prison cell with the Kuchiki name on it, it had never occurred to him that one of his clan had been held there so recently. “For what crime?”
She let out a little breath, but didn’t lift her eyes. “Arrogance, I think.”
Byakuya held back a retort that if arrogance was a crime in the Gotei, there would be no officers to serve in it.
“Father knew just how to get under his skin,” she continued, her fingers tracing the outline of the bowl of sake at her place. “It was so clearly a frame job. If Kōga had a tragic flaw it was that he so desperately wanted Father’s approval. It made him foolish, vulnerable, raw… angry.”
Byakuya nodded. He’d been a victim of much the same desire. Genrei so rarely gave a compliment or any other outward sign of approval. It made people crave it like a drug--himself included. He would have murdered to gain even a small fraction of a sense that his grandfather had been proud of him, loved him.
He, at least, was of Kuchiki blood. Byakuya also knew full well how poorly those who married in were treated.
“Miisho told me what happened that day,” Masama said. It took Byakuya a second longer than it should have to remember that Ōta Miisho had been his Division’s Third Seat until quite recently. She continued,“He told me how loyalists from another faction conspired to bring my husband down by framing him for murder. Even Father had his suspicions that it couldn’t be true at the time, but it’s always that damnable Second, the keigun. They pushed Kōga and he pushed back and suddenly ‘murder’ became treason.”
The keigun, the executive militia, more colloquially known as ‘the punishment force,’ the Second Division’s own personal ninja enforcement squad.
This was more of his uncle’s story than Byakuya had ever heard out loud before in his entire life. And to think that the Third Seat had known it all along? Perhaps there was someone who yet lived who knew much more to this story.
“They always wanted Kōga’s power,” Masama said with a little sniff. “And now, it seems, they have it.”
“Indeed.” Byakuya brought a finger to his lips, considering the implications. It was dangerous to assume that the Second Division had, in any way, set out to intentionally replicate Muramasa’s power. It was, after all, Urahara Kisuke who was the supposed inventor of the device. Who knew what went through that man’s mind at any given time? However, Urahara had also been the warden of the Maggot’s Nest. Certainly, he could not have overlapped with Kōga, could he have?
Byakuya’s mind raced with questions.
Aunt Masama’s use of the phrase ‘loyalists from another faction’ implied that Kōga had been betrayed by people ostensibly on his side. It was not the rebels who’d framed him, but another faction in his own party.
The party that put down rebellion. The party that was still in control.
His words came out in a rush. “All the more reason for me to be protected from it.”
Masama’s gaze locked on to Byakuya’s.
He held it steady as Eishirō brought a third course of miso and bamboo shoot soup. Neither of them lifted a spoon or spoke until the servants were gone. Then Masama seemed to come to a conclusion with a sharp nod.
“Yes,” she said, dipping into her soup. “I will contact the Kidō Master. I will, however, insist that her identity remain anonymous. She is our last defense.”
It was far more than Byakuya had hoped for. “Understood.”
As dinner wore on, Byakuya swallowed many more things he would have preferred not to. Specifically, he allowed the issue of Masama’s rude engagement announcement go unremarked upon. He was still deeply hurt and angered by it, but he would give her no reason to rescind her end of the bargain. That mystery Kidō Master, whoever she was, was worth choosing another time to have that particular fight.
For her part, Masama seemed content not to bring up Renji, the engagement, or any of her usual complaints. She did, however, grumble about a number of the serving staff, including Aio, with whom she clearly had developed a personal grudge. Byakuya replied to such salvos with further contemplation of sunsets, breeze, clouds, and chances of precipitation. There was, it turned out, nothing he could not answer with deep discussion of some aspect of the climate.
In the end, it was hardly the worst meal he’d ever endured.
She seemed to think so as well.
After he’d seen her to her quarters, she patted his cheeks and said, “You’ve matured, Bya-boo.”
He was uncertain of the validity of such a claim, nor whether, coming, as it was, from Masama, this was a positive development or not. However, it was always good manners to reply, “Thank you.”
Of course, she ruined everything by saying, “Clearly, that man is a poor influence on you.”
“And with that,“ Byakuya turned on his heels immediately, “We’re done.”
#
Being on his own for dinner, Renji ended up wandering the streets near the Sixth Division looking for a good akachōchin or izakaya. For the first time in a long time, he had some extra ken in his pockets. Should he feel guilty that he only had extra money this month because he mooched off the estate for his meals? Probably, but when was the last time he’d had a chance to explore the local dive bars?
Puddles drying in the streets reflected the sunset and the strings of lit lanterns that hung across the streets. The chill of the air smelled of spring--rain, mud, and new plant growth. At this hour, many places were shuttered. Thanks to the influence of its captain, the Sixth’s neighborhood had many of the more high end shops to be found in the Seireitei--the sort of places that sold loose tea leaves, silks, and jewelry.
Unfortunately, this also seemed to extend to the watering holes.
Having stopped to read posted menus along the way and abandoning all of them as too snooty for his current mood, Renji found himself nearing the Sixth’s border with the Ninth.
The new captain of the Ninth’s influence was immediately apparent. The stately restaurants gave way to small bakeries and… imports from the Human World? Renji wasn’t entirely sure what a “gyōza” was but they smelled amazing. The price wasn’t bad either.
Renji was even happier when he stepped inside and was hit by the pleasant murmur of conversation and a warm wall of fragrant air filled with the smells of sauteeing garlic and sizzling pork. His stomach growled in happy anticipation.
After a welcome of ‘Irasshaimase’ from a serving girl, he was shown to a seat along the bar. The only thing the waitress asked him was, “Meat or vegetarian?”
The pork smelled too good to resist, but he was curious enough to say, “Both.”
She nodded and whisked away before he could order anything to drink. Glancing down the bar and around the room, it seemed everyone was drinking beer out of glass mugs. Some of the mugs seemed to have a layer of frost or heavy condensation on them. Ice-cold beer? Renji craned his neck to try to see into the kitchen. Did they have a Gotei officer with an ice-type zanpakutō back there, an ice box, or some new equipment from the Twelfth?
In no time the waitress reappeared with two long, narrow plates. Each held an array of six fried dumplings laid out in a neat row. Along with these she deposited a little tray of some kind of sauce that smelled spicy, but not dangerously so. Before he could ask, another server came with chopsticks and a frosty mug.
Renji wasn’t sure if this was the sort of thing you ate in one bite, so he tried a nibble. By chance, he’d chosen the vegetarian one, but the shitake mushrooms had been marinated in soy and mirin and could have easily passed as meat. With the taste of garlic lingering on his tongue , Renji tried the beer.
A quiet, but decidedly erotic sound escaped his lips.
He immediately reached into the pouch hidden in his obi and counted his ken to see just how many orders of these he could afford.
Renji was well into his third helping when Hisagi Shūhei came in, trailed by the ever morose-looking Kira Izuru. They spotted Renji immediately, aided by his enthusiastic wave. “What is this?” Renji laughed, "Impromptu lieutenants meeting?”
“I told Kira he had to try this place.” Hisagi chuckled, choosing the seat to the left of Renji.
Flanking Renji on the right, Kira said, “Shū is convinced that I need to get out more.”
That was probably true. Renji started to worry that the dark bags under Kira’s eyes were becoming permanent. He’d been hoping that now that Gin Ichimaru was dead, Kira might stop looking so damn exhausted all the time.
Renji only realized he was still staring at Kira with concern, when Kira cleared his throat. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s this I hear about at an engagement party?”
“Save the date,” Renji tipped back his mug to drink the last drops of the cold beer. “Hanami at the Kuchiki estate.”
Kira’s thin eyebrows jumped. “You’re finally marrying Rukia?”
This was going to happen a lot, he figured. However, Kira, of all people, ought to know better. They had a foursome planned, for fuck sake! Renji just shook his head and gave Kira the ‘c’mon, you know this’ gesture.
Hisagi supplied, “The other one!”
“Oh?” Kira blinked. “Oh, right!”
Renji looked away from Kira then, not wanting to see whatever expression of doubt or concern passed over Kira’s face. Instead, Renji concentrated on savoring the gyōza. When he’d put in his latest order he promised himself he would not gobble them mindlessly. So, he took a small bite, made sure to chew, dipped the remains in sauce, took a sip of beer, and then ate the rest. A goddamn divine combination, he decided. They might need these things catered at the wedding reception, if that was a thing Kuchiki did.
“That’s an option?” Kira asked quietly. “Actual, formal marriage, I mean?”
That explained Kira’s confusion. Fucking was one thing, while marriage another.
Renji shrugged, after all, he felt the same way some days. Still keeping his attention on the food and the activity in the kitchen on the other side of the bar, he explained, “It’s mostly symbolic, honestly. Byakuya wants a formal adoption so I can inherit property or be legal or whatever, but I ain’t changing my name. I sure as shit don’t want any part of that family. So, we’re doing the engagement because it’s a way of making people recognize our relationship and then Urahara is going to hook us up with something in the Human World.”
“Kensei-taicho says it’s a thing in Tokyo now.” Hisagi offered. “The adoption part, too.”
Wasn’t this guy against them last time they talked? It was clear, however, that in the meantime Muguruma must have straightened HIsagi out--as it were. Renji shot Hisagi a little check-in glance, but he seemed sincere. So Renji nodded. “That’s what gave me the idea to propose.”
Kira’s eyebrows seemed to be permanently affixed to his forehead. “You proposed to the twenty-eighth head of one of the True First families?” Just in case Renji didn’t get his implication, Kira repeated, “You?”
“Ballsy, huh?” Renji gave Kira a toothy grin.
“I’m surprised you’re alive.” Kira’s eyebrows finally dropped to pinch into a frown. “I stand by what I said about this whole thing the first time you asked me for advice.”
“How long have you known?” Hisagi leaned in. “What did you say?”
Kira’s eyes locked on Renji’s and spoke slowly and deliberately as if casting a curse. “Two tops together is a disaster.”
Hisagi snorted a laugh. When neither Renji nor Kira joined him, he did a double-take, “Wait. Who’s the other top?”
“Who do you think, ya moron?” Renji snarled. “We ain’t having an engagement party for a thruple!”
The waitress arrived while Hisagi digested this apparently new revelation. Kira ordered for them.
The scars on the side of Hisagi’s face puckered as he frowned. After the waitress left, Hisagi seemed to have found some words for his thoughts, but, for Renji’s money, they weren’t very brilliant ones. “But. Captain Kuchiki is so… pretty.”
Both Renji and Kira nodded. There was no arguing that particular assessment. Byakuya’s beauty was patently obvious even to the most casual observer.
“Yeah, well, gorgeous or not,” Renji said. “His reiatsu can match Kenpachi’s.”
Hisagi’s voice was incredulous. “No way!”
“Way,” Renji insisted.
“But, you still…. I mean, you’ve got to be the one who--” Hisagi stopped at Renji’s glare. He shook his head in disbelief, “But, you outweigh him by like what? You’re so much taller--at least three inches!”
Renji was glad that the evening crowd had thinned out a bit because their food and beer came quickly. After taking a deep swig of the ice-cold brew, he slapped Hisagi on the shoulder companionably. “I think you’re old enough now, sempai, that you should know those things aren’t always what matter.”
Kira stuck his face around Renji to add, “Doesn’t that little insect co-lieutenant over at yours kick your butt regularly?”
Hisagi became suddenly deeply interested in his dumplings, stuffing a whole one in his mouth so he didn’t have to answer. Renji laughed kindly, letting his shoulder go with an affectionate squeeze.
Wisely deciding to change the subject, Hisagi lifted his mug. “Here’s to the happy couple!”
Renji clinked.
Seeing their smiles, Renji suddenly loved his friends. “That means a lot, sempai. Seriously.”
Hisagi blushed a little. “Just because I don’t get it, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy.”
Renji grunted and took another drink of his beer. “You might be the first.”
#
Renji was largely still sober when he made his way back. This was possibly in part because Kira insisted that they all grab dessert in his Division. Captain Ōtoribashi had commissioned a new establishment there, something called a “coffee” shop.
Coffee on its own tasted like crap. The shop gave out free samples of the plain stuff, which smelled amazing. Unfortunately, Renji quickly discovered that the smell was a lie. The shop couldn’t give cups of that stuff away, except on a dare. However, the big seller was a thing called “late-something.” Kira explained it was “French,” as if that was supposed to mean anything. All Renji knew was that apparently alchemy and magic was involved. Somehow, if you took the good smelling, but foul tasting coffee and completely overwhelmed it with enough honey and milk, it tasted more like how a person was hoping it should, given the smell.
He’d drunk one and bought a second to bring home to Byakuya.
He was pretty sure that the Captain would like the fanciness. Plus, Renji desperately wanted to see Byakuya’s reaction. Hisagi had made the funniest face at his first sip. To that end, Renji also persuaded the shop workers to give him a small ‘taster’ cup of the plain stuff to go.
When he came into the servant’s entrance, Renji spotted Eishirō's kid, Yuu, putting away dishes into a large wooden crate stuffed with straw. The fancy plates? Huh, Byakuya really pulled out the stops for this talk with his aunt. Still, it was clear dinner had finished up some time ago. “Looks like I timed things perfectly.”
Yuu almost dropped the plate he’d been wrapping in paper. “Oh! Lieutenant! Why are you coming in the back way?”
That was a really good question to which Renji did not have a particularly good answer. “I can’t seem to get out of the habit?”
“I’ll ring papa,” Yuu said anxiously, setting the bowl aside for the moment. “You should be announced.”
“The lieutenant is long past even being announced.” Eishirō’s familiar dry drawl came from the doorway. A thinly boned hand appeared to make ‘go on’ motions. “Feel free to make your way upstairs.”
Renji only hesitated at the foot of the stairs long enough to ask, “Mood?”
Eishirō tucked his hands into the sleeves of his tunic and, after a moment of consideration, said, “Pensive, I would say. But not overly so.”
So the dinner had probably gone well enough. “Great,” Renji said, taking the stairs two at a time. “Maybe we can celebrate.”
#
“I can smell the garlic on your breath from here, Renji. Tell me why I should allow you to invade my sleeping chamber?” Byakuya’s tone was sharp, but Renji could hear the teasing notes in his admonishment.
Renji shouldered the door open and held out the paper cups. “I come bearing gifts!”
Byakuya lay partly propped up on his side of the bed. A low light by his beside, illuminating the book he was reading. Renji recognized the cover. It was Byakuya’s go-to re-read, one of the explicit BDSM yaoi that they’d picked up in the Human World.
“You’ve bought me a present?” Byakuya closed the book and set it on his end table, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Do you have something to apologize for?”
“Nah,” Renji chuckled. As he approached the bed, Byakuya drew up his legs, so Renji could settle at the foot of the bed. Renji handed Byakuya the small ‘taster’ first. “You gotta try this. It’s awful.”
Byakuya’s hand paused, suddenly uncertain. “I thought you said this was a gift.”
“This,” Renji lifted his other hand. “Is the gift. This other one… it’s kind of like the lead up to the gift. You have to see how bad it is so you can appreciate how good the other one is.”
Byakuya gave Renji a very skeptical look. He took the small cup warily. “Your argument is less than compelling. However, I am intrigued by the offer.”
Renji watched carefully as Byakuya took a sip.
Most people would only see the slight scrunch of eyebrow and narrowing of gaze, but what Renji perceived in those same seconds of expression made him guffaw. “Right? It’s the worst!”
Byakuya set the drink aside with a little shake of his head. “I’m uncertain why I have been subjected to such drek.”
“Because,” Renji handed over the other drink with a big grin. “This is what they do with it. It’s like the same thing, only so much better.”
Byakuya looked at the paper cup with its strange little cover very dubiously. “I have your word that this is not a cruel trick?”
Renji was affronted by the implication. “C’mon. I’m not like that, am I?”
Byakuya waited.
“It’s honestly the best thing I’ve tasted in a long time. Well, I mean, I had these insanely good garlicky dumpling things today, too, but this is the best thing I’ve had to drink recently. And I just had ice-cold beer for the first time tonight, too.”
Byakuya looked at the cup with renewed interest. “Renji Abarai finds this drink more compelling than cold beer? I shall have to give it a try.” Daintily, cautiously he took a small sip.
Renji waited, remembering his own first taste. The way that the foam on the top started sweet and followed up with a nutty bitterness.
“Oh,” Byakuya said, glancing at the cup in wonderment. “This is enchanting.”
“Fair warning,” Renji said as Byakuya took a deeper drink. “Kira tells me that if you have too much of it you get a little jittery. I will say? It sobered me right up.”
“Then it is a miracle that I shall thank all the gods for,” Byakuya said, greedily having another, deeper drink.
Renji sat back on his arms to watch Byakuya enjoying the drink. “I knew you’d love this ‘late-tay’ thing. It’s fancy.”
“Is this the first gift you’ve ever given me?”
Renji cast his mind back, trying to remember. He rarely bought things for himself, much less for anyone else. He used to spend any extra money he had on sunglasses, but Ichigo kept breaking those so he’d had to give ‘em up. Renji suddenly thought of something, however. “I did write you a poem.”
Byakuya set the empty paper cup next to his book on the end table. “True. How could I forget?” Pulling himself forward, he planted a cool kiss on Renji’s cheek, just at the edge of Renji’s sideburn. He pulled back so that his breath tickled Renji’s ear as he said, “My most prized possession.”