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Oct. 9th, 2009 01:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravens_risingThere are... definitely parts of this that are a little rough. Unfortunately, I am totally out of time. xD Oh well. At least I got it in~
Written for the fic contest over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
senkaimon. This round was Byakuya/Renji.
Title: Sand
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,143
Warnings: blood, injuries, mention of character death, Byakuya being screwed up
Characters: Byakuya, Renji, Shunsui, Yamamoto, mentions of pretty much everyone else
Pairing: Byakuya/Renji, maybe a small bit of Shunsui/Ukitakesurprise!
A/N: aksjd;asdfjk I'm really not sure where this came from. This is totally different from everyone else's, but I think we all know my brain is weird by now, right? xD; This is definitely my most depressing piece so far... I'll be interested to see what people make of it. I can't decide whether I like it or not.
Byakuya gazes out into the gardens, listening to the gentle, soothing rustle of the night. His eyes are half-closed, and a rare feeling of lethargy has settled over his limbs.
“Kuchiki-sama.” Byakuya’s eyes flicker at the voice, the only indication that the servant has surprised him.
“Yes?” He replies, unmoving, still gazing out into the darkness, though the moment has been broken. He can already feel the tension returning.
“Mamoru-san is here to visit you, Kuchiki-dono.”
…
“Mamoru.” Byakuya greets, and the Royal Guard and long time family friend turns with a welcoming smile.
“Byakuya! It’s good to see you!”
“It has been a long time.” Byakuya nods, though his very slight smile should tell the other that Byakuya is glad to see him as well. “What brings you here?”
“I can’t stop by just to see little Byakuya-kun?” Mamoru asks, throwing an arm around Byakuya’s shoulders. Byakuya glares at him frostily and Mamoru grins unrepentantly. “Actually, dear Byakuya-kun…” His smile turns lopsided, and then twists strangely- and for a moment… “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
And pain explodes in Byakuya’s chest.
…
Byakuya gasps for air, tasting the tang of copper on his tongue.
“Not bad, Byakuya-kun, Byakuya-kun.” The arrancar calls, a disgusting mockery of the man whose life he has stolen.
The taichou can not find energy to speak, to respond in righteous, proud, anger. The fight has almost broken him. He stands there, panting, pink petals fluttering down around him, his sword loose in his sweaty, bloody hands. The house that he grew up in- the beautiful, historic Kuchiki mansion- lies in ruins around them.
“Had enough, Kuchiki-taichou?” The thief is mocking him again.
“Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.” Byakuya hisses once again, even though he knows deep down how futile it will be.
The arrancar’s laugh is high pitched and gleeful, and Byakuya feels sick.
…
Someone will come. (Abarai will come.) He has injured the thief, but at a price. Someone must come.
But even in his weakened state, he can feel the swirling power of other taichou, fighting for their own lives across Seireitei.
He sees the sword arching down at him as if in slow motion. His muscles do not, can not, respond. The glittering silver blade hypnotizes him in that second of non-existent time, and he stares at the sharp contest to the dark, dark night sky above them. Something jerks in his chest, something not related to his injury, something infinitely deeper than that.
(Someone else could have told him it was regret.)
And then there was red in across his vision, and Byakuya knows that this is it- he waits for the pain after the frozen shock.
But no.
The red moves, and now there is silver against silver, and Byakuya sees the shock on the arrancar’s face.
The curtain of red shifts and separates, and Abarai grins at him. “Sorry I took so long, taichou.”
-
Abarai is slouched in a chair by the bed. Bone deep exhaustion is clear in the line of his shoulders, and Byakuya can make out the white hint of bandages under his clothing.
Byakuya blinks slowly, some part of his mind recognizing the room. fourth… division… what…
Abarai jerks upright, likely awoken by a change in Byakuya’s reiatsu, just as memories begin to filter their way through his taichou's pain hazy mind.
“Kuchiki-taichou!” Abarai slides out of his chair and is across the room in an instant.
Closer, Byakuya can see even more clearly the weariness in Abarai’s face and eyes, and he wishes Abarai would have stayed in his chair. He looks like he’s about to fall over, and as Abarai is standing over him at the moment, that would probably be detrimental to Byakuya’s injuries. (Byakuya is not concerned about him, of course.)
“Abarai.” Byakuya manages to rasp, and stark relief relaxes Abarai’s face.
“Taichou.” Abarai grins, his eyes lighting up, and Byakuya swallows.
Can’t Abarai think of something more intelligent to say?
Abarai hovers for another second before going “oh!” and backing out of Byakuya’s vision. He has only enough time to wonder where his fukutaichou went before Abarai is back, carrying a cup of water. Suddenly all Byakuya can feel is the dryness of his throat.
Abarai sets the cup down on the small table beside the cot, and turns to help his taichou sit up. Byakuya is too tired and too distracted by memories to protest. As he sips the water, he ignores the faint trembling of his hands. So does Abarai.
When his throat is moist enough to really speak, he looks up. Memories of the night before (was it the night before? How long has he been out?) are becoming clearer- as clear as memories of the chaos of a battle like that can be, anyway. He remembers feeling the roaring power of other taichou level reiatsu. “Report.”
Abarai nods, straightening automatically. The worry in his eyes that had disconcerted Byakuya (no one worries about Byakuya; Byakuya is alone) disappearing as he becomes Abarai-fukutaichou.
“You were not the only one attacked.” Abarai begins, and Byakuya nods. He expected that. “Second division is still assessing all the damage, and many Shinigami are still missing. Among those unaccounted for are Hinamori-fukutaichou, and Hitsugaya-taichou.” His voice gives nothing away about people are sure to be speculating over Hinamori’s disappearance. “The confirmed fatalities are Kira-fukutaichou, Isane-fukutaichou, and Komamura-taichou. Unohana-taichou says that Ukitake-taichou probably only has a few days left to live. His attacker, who pretended to be a Royal Guard member as well, used a poison that Unohana-taichou has not been able to cure. All others of high rank have been deemed fit for duty. Whatever that means right now…” Abarai adds in an undertone.
After giving the status of the upper-ranked shinigami, Abarai reports on the state of Seireitei and the Royal Guard. When he is informed that half the Royal Guard has been massacred, including the real Mamoru, Byakuyajust closes his eyes.
The cold feeling that forms in his stomach as Abarai continues has everything to do with his injuries, and nothing to do with grief, or fear.
-
Byakuya stares at the ceiling. He is unaware of how much time has passed.
His shoulder and chest ache. So does his head.
That’s what’s preventing his sleep. Not the nightmares.
Byakuya shifts restlessly, closing his eyes against the bland pale peach ceiling. A sharp pain jabs through his arm and his lips press tightly together.
The silence doesn’t bother him, nor does the empty chair. (It is good that Rukia is helping out her devastated division, it is good that Abarai is off… hopefully doing something to help their division.)
Byakuya likes silence; noise gives him a headache.
And Byakuya is alone. Has been alone since that spring morning fifty-three years before.
(Will always be alone.)
-
Byakuya stands very still in the doorway to his office.
Abarai is fast asleep, drooling unattractively on several sheets of official looking papers.
Byakuya walks over and glances over Abarai’s desk, his gaze taking in the stacks of paperwork. Almost all of it is complete- messy, yes, but complete. His fukutaichou must have spent all the previous night and day working on it.
“Thank you.” Byakuya says quietly.
The sleeping man does not hear him.
(But suddenly Byakuya’s injuries seem to hurt a little bit less.)
-
The familiar reiatsu pulses at the edge of Byakuya’s consciousness, the pure determination and will behind it distracting him and causing a strange feeling in his chest. He stirs restlessly, absently fiddling with his pen. After a moment, he sets the pen down and stands up, walking slowly over to the window in his office.
He can make out the lone figure training off to the side of the large training grounds, the force of his taichou level reiatsu making it difficult for anyone else to train nearby.
Byakuya doesn’t need to be any closer to know the other details, to be able to see how determination twists his features, how sweat has matted that brilliant red hair, or the motion and tense lines of his body as he drags himself back up over and over and over again. Byakuya can almost feel the sweat and the dirt and the blood in Abarai’s reiatsu, even from this distance away.
This is how Abarai trained before Rukia’s execution, Byakuya is sure. This is how he pushed himself, with the pure burning spirit that is Abarai Renji, as the minutes ticked down toward the execution, as time trickled unceasingly and uncaringly and far too quickly through its hourglass.
Byakuya looks down at his slender, pale hands, and thinks for a second that he can see tiny grains of sand falling through his outstretched fingers. Time is slipping away from him. Time is slipping away from all of them.
A meeting has been called for later that day, and Kuchiki Byakuya knows what will be said.
-
Yamamoto-soutaichou is still speaking, but Byakuya has long since tuned him out.
If he had thought about it, he would not have been able to remember a previous time he had done that. Byakuya is always alert, always paying attention.
But this time is different. This is special.
He doesn’t think any of the others (the ones that are well enough to drag themselves to the meeting) are paying any attention either. After the declaration that they were going to war the next day… every word pales in comparison to that word, that horrible, destructive, red as blood and death word “war” that Kuchiki Byakuya and many of the others are only now beginning to understand (to really understand, in your bones and your heart and your soul).
Byakuya is good at ‘listening’ and thinking of other things at the same time, so his body moves on its own when Yamamoto adjourns the meeting.
Kyouraku-taichou is the first one moving, and is already almost to the door when Byakuya comes back to himself. Byakuya can easily guess where he is going. In a way, Kyouraku’s time is running out as well.
Kyouraku-taichou stops, though, before he reaches the door. He looks over his shoulder and meets Byakuya’s gaze with a dark, fathomless one.
For some reason, Byakuya is shaken to his core, and his vision whites out for an instant. Then Kyouraku-taichou is gone.
-
Byakuya is standing in the doorway to his office once again, finally understanding the revelation that had slipped through his fingers (like time and sand and everything sacred) the last time he had stood there like that.
His fukutaichou (and friend) looks up from his desk. “Taichou? How did it go?”
But Byakuya doesn’t really hear him. For a moment he is standing amidst the ruins of his childhood home; the enemy who wears his friend’s face laughing down at him and red, red blood is staining his precious haori and there is pain pain pain and he is helpless
… and Aizen is smiling down at them, serene and untouchable in his genius and power and his chest feels heavy and light at the same time and he can hear Rukia (his sister, his sister) screaming his name in his fading hearing…
And suddenly the mounds of paperwork seem so absurd. What are they doing?
Sand is slipping through his fingers…
and Kyouraku is looking at him with that sad, sad gaze that is trying to tell him something important, something that he needs to do
and Byakuya finally understands
“We go to war tomorrow.”
Byakuya realizes that he is a fool.
Why is he letting society and his Noble family tell him what to do? Why do their words still guide his actions, choke his throat, still his hand? Even now, when Kuchiki manor (and Seireitei itself) lies in ruins? Byakuya has no time for their words now. They’ve never stood back to back with Abarai Renji and fought, they haven’t seen what he’s seen, they have not felt what he’s felt. In the end, they know nothing.
“Um, taichou?”
Byakuya continues to say nothing; he just strides across the room to come to a halt right next the Abarai. Abarai blinks up at him with confused, gorgeous eyes. Byakuya places one hand over the paperwork and one hand on Renji’s shoulder, and leans over and kisses him.
Byakuya can feel the sudden tension in the shoulder, but then it relaxes, and Renji’s mouth opens under his, and for the first time in a long time, Byakuya can feel.
When they break away, Renji’s eyes are filled with confusion and pleasure. “Bya… kuya?”
“We go to war tomorrow.” Byakuya says, and maybe Renji understands too (like Kyouraku does), because the confusion melts away, and Renji fists his hands in the front of Byakuya’s haori and jerks him roughly down for another kiss.
(Byakuya catches the last piece of sand.)
Written for the fic contest over at
senkaimon. This round was Byakuya/Renji. Title: Sand
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,143
Warnings: blood, injuries, mention of character death, Byakuya being screwed up
Characters: Byakuya, Renji, Shunsui, Yamamoto, mentions of pretty much everyone else
Pairing: Byakuya/Renji, maybe a small bit of Shunsui/Ukitake
A/N: aksjd;asdfjk I'm really not sure where this came from. This is totally different from everyone else's, but I think we all know my brain is weird by now, right? xD; This is definitely my most depressing piece so far... I'll be interested to see what people make of it. I can't decide whether I like it or not.
Byakuya gazes out into the gardens, listening to the gentle, soothing rustle of the night. His eyes are half-closed, and a rare feeling of lethargy has settled over his limbs.
“Kuchiki-sama.” Byakuya’s eyes flicker at the voice, the only indication that the servant has surprised him.
“Yes?” He replies, unmoving, still gazing out into the darkness, though the moment has been broken. He can already feel the tension returning.
“Mamoru-san is here to visit you, Kuchiki-dono.”
…
“Mamoru.” Byakuya greets, and the Royal Guard and long time family friend turns with a welcoming smile.
“Byakuya! It’s good to see you!”
“It has been a long time.” Byakuya nods, though his very slight smile should tell the other that Byakuya is glad to see him as well. “What brings you here?”
“I can’t stop by just to see little Byakuya-kun?” Mamoru asks, throwing an arm around Byakuya’s shoulders. Byakuya glares at him frostily and Mamoru grins unrepentantly. “Actually, dear Byakuya-kun…” His smile turns lopsided, and then twists strangely- and for a moment… “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
And pain explodes in Byakuya’s chest.
…
Byakuya gasps for air, tasting the tang of copper on his tongue.
“Not bad, Byakuya-kun, Byakuya-kun.” The arrancar calls, a disgusting mockery of the man whose life he has stolen.
The taichou can not find energy to speak, to respond in righteous, proud, anger. The fight has almost broken him. He stands there, panting, pink petals fluttering down around him, his sword loose in his sweaty, bloody hands. The house that he grew up in- the beautiful, historic Kuchiki mansion- lies in ruins around them.
“Had enough, Kuchiki-taichou?” The thief is mocking him again.
“Senbonzakura Kageyoshi.” Byakuya hisses once again, even though he knows deep down how futile it will be.
The arrancar’s laugh is high pitched and gleeful, and Byakuya feels sick.
…
Someone will come. (Abarai will come.) He has injured the thief, but at a price. Someone must come.
But even in his weakened state, he can feel the swirling power of other taichou, fighting for their own lives across Seireitei.
He sees the sword arching down at him as if in slow motion. His muscles do not, can not, respond. The glittering silver blade hypnotizes him in that second of non-existent time, and he stares at the sharp contest to the dark, dark night sky above them. Something jerks in his chest, something not related to his injury, something infinitely deeper than that.
(Someone else could have told him it was regret.)
And then there was red in across his vision, and Byakuya knows that this is it- he waits for the pain after the frozen shock.
But no.
The red moves, and now there is silver against silver, and Byakuya sees the shock on the arrancar’s face.
The curtain of red shifts and separates, and Abarai grins at him. “Sorry I took so long, taichou.”
-
Abarai is slouched in a chair by the bed. Bone deep exhaustion is clear in the line of his shoulders, and Byakuya can make out the white hint of bandages under his clothing.
Byakuya blinks slowly, some part of his mind recognizing the room. fourth… division… what…
Abarai jerks upright, likely awoken by a change in Byakuya’s reiatsu, just as memories begin to filter their way through his taichou's pain hazy mind.
“Kuchiki-taichou!” Abarai slides out of his chair and is across the room in an instant.
Closer, Byakuya can see even more clearly the weariness in Abarai’s face and eyes, and he wishes Abarai would have stayed in his chair. He looks like he’s about to fall over, and as Abarai is standing over him at the moment, that would probably be detrimental to Byakuya’s injuries. (Byakuya is not concerned about him, of course.)
“Abarai.” Byakuya manages to rasp, and stark relief relaxes Abarai’s face.
“Taichou.” Abarai grins, his eyes lighting up, and Byakuya swallows.
Can’t Abarai think of something more intelligent to say?
Abarai hovers for another second before going “oh!” and backing out of Byakuya’s vision. He has only enough time to wonder where his fukutaichou went before Abarai is back, carrying a cup of water. Suddenly all Byakuya can feel is the dryness of his throat.
Abarai sets the cup down on the small table beside the cot, and turns to help his taichou sit up. Byakuya is too tired and too distracted by memories to protest. As he sips the water, he ignores the faint trembling of his hands. So does Abarai.
When his throat is moist enough to really speak, he looks up. Memories of the night before (was it the night before? How long has he been out?) are becoming clearer- as clear as memories of the chaos of a battle like that can be, anyway. He remembers feeling the roaring power of other taichou level reiatsu. “Report.”
Abarai nods, straightening automatically. The worry in his eyes that had disconcerted Byakuya (no one worries about Byakuya; Byakuya is alone) disappearing as he becomes Abarai-fukutaichou.
“You were not the only one attacked.” Abarai begins, and Byakuya nods. He expected that. “Second division is still assessing all the damage, and many Shinigami are still missing. Among those unaccounted for are Hinamori-fukutaichou, and Hitsugaya-taichou.” His voice gives nothing away about people are sure to be speculating over Hinamori’s disappearance. “The confirmed fatalities are Kira-fukutaichou, Isane-fukutaichou, and Komamura-taichou. Unohana-taichou says that Ukitake-taichou probably only has a few days left to live. His attacker, who pretended to be a Royal Guard member as well, used a poison that Unohana-taichou has not been able to cure. All others of high rank have been deemed fit for duty. Whatever that means right now…” Abarai adds in an undertone.
After giving the status of the upper-ranked shinigami, Abarai reports on the state of Seireitei and the Royal Guard. When he is informed that half the Royal Guard has been massacred, including the real Mamoru, Byakuyajust closes his eyes.
The cold feeling that forms in his stomach as Abarai continues has everything to do with his injuries, and nothing to do with grief, or fear.
-
Byakuya stares at the ceiling. He is unaware of how much time has passed.
His shoulder and chest ache. So does his head.
That’s what’s preventing his sleep. Not the nightmares.
Byakuya shifts restlessly, closing his eyes against the bland pale peach ceiling. A sharp pain jabs through his arm and his lips press tightly together.
The silence doesn’t bother him, nor does the empty chair. (It is good that Rukia is helping out her devastated division, it is good that Abarai is off… hopefully doing something to help their division.)
Byakuya likes silence; noise gives him a headache.
And Byakuya is alone. Has been alone since that spring morning fifty-three years before.
(Will always be alone.)
-
Byakuya stands very still in the doorway to his office.
Abarai is fast asleep, drooling unattractively on several sheets of official looking papers.
Byakuya walks over and glances over Abarai’s desk, his gaze taking in the stacks of paperwork. Almost all of it is complete- messy, yes, but complete. His fukutaichou must have spent all the previous night and day working on it.
“Thank you.” Byakuya says quietly.
The sleeping man does not hear him.
(But suddenly Byakuya’s injuries seem to hurt a little bit less.)
-
The familiar reiatsu pulses at the edge of Byakuya’s consciousness, the pure determination and will behind it distracting him and causing a strange feeling in his chest. He stirs restlessly, absently fiddling with his pen. After a moment, he sets the pen down and stands up, walking slowly over to the window in his office.
He can make out the lone figure training off to the side of the large training grounds, the force of his taichou level reiatsu making it difficult for anyone else to train nearby.
Byakuya doesn’t need to be any closer to know the other details, to be able to see how determination twists his features, how sweat has matted that brilliant red hair, or the motion and tense lines of his body as he drags himself back up over and over and over again. Byakuya can almost feel the sweat and the dirt and the blood in Abarai’s reiatsu, even from this distance away.
This is how Abarai trained before Rukia’s execution, Byakuya is sure. This is how he pushed himself, with the pure burning spirit that is Abarai Renji, as the minutes ticked down toward the execution, as time trickled unceasingly and uncaringly and far too quickly through its hourglass.
Byakuya looks down at his slender, pale hands, and thinks for a second that he can see tiny grains of sand falling through his outstretched fingers. Time is slipping away from him. Time is slipping away from all of them.
A meeting has been called for later that day, and Kuchiki Byakuya knows what will be said.
-
Yamamoto-soutaichou is still speaking, but Byakuya has long since tuned him out.
If he had thought about it, he would not have been able to remember a previous time he had done that. Byakuya is always alert, always paying attention.
But this time is different. This is special.
He doesn’t think any of the others (the ones that are well enough to drag themselves to the meeting) are paying any attention either. After the declaration that they were going to war the next day… every word pales in comparison to that word, that horrible, destructive, red as blood and death word “war” that Kuchiki Byakuya and many of the others are only now beginning to understand (to really understand, in your bones and your heart and your soul).
Byakuya is good at ‘listening’ and thinking of other things at the same time, so his body moves on its own when Yamamoto adjourns the meeting.
Kyouraku-taichou is the first one moving, and is already almost to the door when Byakuya comes back to himself. Byakuya can easily guess where he is going. In a way, Kyouraku’s time is running out as well.
Kyouraku-taichou stops, though, before he reaches the door. He looks over his shoulder and meets Byakuya’s gaze with a dark, fathomless one.
For some reason, Byakuya is shaken to his core, and his vision whites out for an instant. Then Kyouraku-taichou is gone.
-
Byakuya is standing in the doorway to his office once again, finally understanding the revelation that had slipped through his fingers (like time and sand and everything sacred) the last time he had stood there like that.
His fukutaichou (and friend) looks up from his desk. “Taichou? How did it go?”
But Byakuya doesn’t really hear him. For a moment he is standing amidst the ruins of his childhood home; the enemy who wears his friend’s face laughing down at him and red, red blood is staining his precious haori and there is pain pain pain and he is helpless
… and Aizen is smiling down at them, serene and untouchable in his genius and power and his chest feels heavy and light at the same time and he can hear Rukia (his sister, his sister) screaming his name in his fading hearing…
And suddenly the mounds of paperwork seem so absurd. What are they doing?
Sand is slipping through his fingers…
and Kyouraku is looking at him with that sad, sad gaze that is trying to tell him something important, something that he needs to do
and Byakuya finally understands
“We go to war tomorrow.”
Byakuya realizes that he is a fool.
Why is he letting society and his Noble family tell him what to do? Why do their words still guide his actions, choke his throat, still his hand? Even now, when Kuchiki manor (and Seireitei itself) lies in ruins? Byakuya has no time for their words now. They’ve never stood back to back with Abarai Renji and fought, they haven’t seen what he’s seen, they have not felt what he’s felt. In the end, they know nothing.
“Um, taichou?”
Byakuya continues to say nothing; he just strides across the room to come to a halt right next the Abarai. Abarai blinks up at him with confused, gorgeous eyes. Byakuya places one hand over the paperwork and one hand on Renji’s shoulder, and leans over and kisses him.
Byakuya can feel the sudden tension in the shoulder, but then it relaxes, and Renji’s mouth opens under his, and for the first time in a long time, Byakuya can feel.
When they break away, Renji’s eyes are filled with confusion and pleasure. “Bya… kuya?”
“We go to war tomorrow.” Byakuya says, and maybe Renji understands too (like Kyouraku does), because the confusion melts away, and Renji fists his hands in the front of Byakuya’s haori and jerks him roughly down for another kiss.
(Byakuya catches the last piece of sand.)