Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ Perceptions ( Chapter 3 )

Of Violence

Chapter Three: Perceptions

 

Byakuya found himself sitting in front of his senpai, vaguely reminded of old times as Jyuushiro poured tea for the both of them. It was a bright and cheery morning, birds chirping and the like, which completely belied the tension running through his body. He was here to ask his fellow captain a rather difficult question, and most of him didn't even know where to begin. The fact that Rukia was just beyond the door didn't make it any easier.

 

“Brings back old memories, hmm,” Jyuushiro murmured as if he had read his kouhai's mind, steam curling up from the elegant tea set that Byakuya still remembered from all those years ago. It had aged rather gracefully, much like its owner.

 

The younger captain nodded in agreement, reaching for his cup and inhaling the delicate aroma. It was vaguely soothing, he noticed, before looking pointedly around.

 

“It is rather quiet in here.”

 

“For once, you mean?” Ukitake responded with an easy grin, reaching up and tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Shunsui is kami only knows where, thank goodness. Last I heard, he was hiding from his fukutaichou; he knows better than to seek refuge with me.”

 

Byakuya's lips twitched into a smile. “And Kira-san?”

 

“Busy with his own squad, I imagine,” his senpai said with a goofy, almost love-struck grin.

 

It was so amusing to the widower.

 

The relationship between the two captains, including recently appointed Kira Izuru to the head of the third division, was no secret to those in Seireitei. Unsurprisingly, the two were a good match. And honestly, Byakuya had never seen Ukitake this happy and alive before, especially considering the sadness surrounding his former vice-captain's death. He was glad for the both of them.

 

Jyuushiro continued, attracting Byakuya's attention with a faint chuckle. “And lucky for both of us, I also sent Kiyone and Sentarou on a little errand. Other than Rukia, we've the office to ourselves.”

 

Byakuya tipped his head. “The quiet is relaxing.”

 

“I agree.” Jyuushiro paused, though it wasn't an uneasy one and redirected the casual conversation. “It's especially calm since much of my paperwork is mysteriously being done by someone outside of the thirteenth again.”

 

A frown found its way to Byakuya's lips before he could fully put an end to it. “Ichigo again?” he mused aloud, well aware of that particular situation.

 

Jyuushiro inclined his head, sipping at his tea. “I've discussed this with him before, and I know you have as well, but...” he trailed off, leaving his statement open-ended. It went unsaid that he was requesting Byakuya do something about it.

 

“Perhaps he merely needs to be reminded,” the Kuchiki heir suggested, shifting in his seat as he was reminded of the purpose of his own visit. “Or it will clear on its own when your division finally settles.”

 

“Hmm. You make a valid point.” A slim hand reached out for the tea platter, selecting a small cookie as Jyuushiro nibbled on it. “An increase in paperwork is not unexpected when considering the reshuffling of our positions, even if they are lower seats.”

 

Byakuya conceded his point, “Yamamoto-soutaichou should have probably begun with another division. The thirteenth is still recovering.”

 

A faintly bemused smile quirked Jyuushiro's lips. “I leave it up to you to tell him that.”

 

“Then again,” Byakuya said with almost a teasing note, “I'm certain this is nothing your division cannot handle.”

 

“Quite true.”

 

A lull entered the conversation, now with a hint of discomfort. It was becoming plainly obvious to Jyuushiro that the visit had not been just a social call. Rarely could Kuchiki Byakuya be termed “social” unless, strangely enough, it involved his brother-in-law or nieces and nephews.

 

Setting down his cup, fingers curling around the warmth permeating through the thick material, Jyuushiro eyed his companion. “You have something on your mind, Byakuya. Care to share?”

 

Byakuya realized that he should just go ahead and get to the point. Ukitake obviously wasn't fooled by his attempt to stave off the unsettling conversation, ready to move things along.

 

He took a deep breath. “A matter of some importance has come to my attention,” he said, aware that his tone was both stiff and formal. “And I am... unsure how to address it.”

 

Jyuushiro blinked. “Oh?” It was a quiet request for elaboration.

 

The younger captain was about to shift in his seat when he realized that he was fidgeting and abruptly stilled the motion. “It is something that I cannot ignore nor can I directly intervene as the matter is rather delicate.”

 

Curiosity abounded within Jyuushiro before he could stop it, despite the somber tone to Byakuya's voice. “In your division then?” He sat up straighter.

 

“In another's,” Byakuya countered, lifting his tea to his lips. He sipped at the green liquid, the soothing taste of chamomile and honey sliding down his throat.

 

Jyuushiro spent several long moments mulling this over internally. “In another division,” he murmured before finally raising his dark eyes to his companion, softness turning to concerned steel. “What exactly is the problem?”

 

Bracing himself, Byakuya searched for the right words, the right way to formulate an answer. Unfortunately, he had never been taught the appropriate methods of describing the possibility of abuse to a fellow captain. Simply put, being blunt was perhaps the only choice he had.

 

“It is between a husband and his wife,” he replied slowly, lowering his cup to the table, having lost a taste for the tea. “And complaints of an altercation.”

 

“Altercation?” Jyuushiro repeated with some surprise, turning the word over in his head. “Abuse?”

 

Byakuya jerkily nodded, waiting for his senpai to come to his own conclusions.

 

The older man sucked in a lip as he pondered the solution, brow furrowing. “The best course of action would be to talk this over with their captain,” Jyuushiro suggested slowly, recalling all he knew of the Gotei 13 rules and guidelines.

 

Unable to respond, Byakuya merely looked at Ukitake, grey eyes impassive.

 

It took a moment, Jyuushiro's still youthful face pinched with thought before understanding dawned bright and early. “Ah… here?” he stated, more to himself than Byakuya. His voice suddenly went hard. “In the thirteenth?”

 

Byakuya inclined his head, wishing he hadn't set down his cup. It would have been enough to hide the subtle firming of his mouth, the tightening of the skin around his eyes. He didn't want Jyuushiro to know just how long he had lain awake last night, locked in a mind's battle over what to do and how to do it.

 

Torn himself, Ukitake mulled inwardly, absentmindedly chewing on his lip. It took several long seconds before he came to a decision, rising elegantly to his feet and moving to the door. He slid open the panel about half a foot.

 

“Rukia, come here a moment,” he called out, leaving the door open as he turned and pattered back to his seat.

 

There was a slight clatter as Rukia shifted away from her desk and stood, approaching his office. “Ukitake-taichou?”

 

He gestured her inside. “Close the door behind you, please. Privacy is important for what I would like you to hear.”

 

Her gaze flickered between the two captains, Byakuya carefully focusing on pouring the second cup of tea he wasn't going to drink. Her hesitancy was only noticed by her brother before she inclined her head and slipped into the room. The door barely made a noise as she pulled it shut and moved to sit with them at the table.

 

Folding her hands in her lap, Rukia gave Ukitake her full attention.

 

“There's been a complaint to our division of a husband striking his wife,” Jyuushiro explained, settling comfortably behind the table.

 

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Really?” Rukia's attention flickered to Byakuya, assuming that it was he who had brought the news to her captain's attention. “Nii-sama, who is it?”

 

“I do not wish to name names. I do not have any proof. The accusation alone could ruin them.” He hesitated, shifting in his seat and wrapping his fingers around his cup. He wouldn't drink the tea, but he was grateful for the warmth on suddenly icy hands.

 

“There are also children involved,” Byakuya added rather reluctantly.

 

Jyuushiro was completely stunned. “A noble family then?” he asked.

 

It was a valid question. There were few in Seireitei capable of having children, limited mostly to the nobles or those with significant reiatsu. It clearly constricted the area of identification that the thirteenth-division captain would have to work with.

 

“It is possible,” Byakuya conceded, part of him wishing that he didn't have to be the one to force this issue into the light from where it had been seething quietly beneath the surface for so many years. “But as I said, I cannot name them. I merely ask that you take a closer look at your subordinates.” He couldn't stop himself from flicking his eyes towards Rukia, however briefly. “Certain behavior should not be allowed, no matter who is involved.”

 

He received no satisfaction from the paling of her face to an almost sickly color. Realization was beginning to dawn, despite her captain's numerous misunderstandings and assumptions. From the corner of his vision, he saw that her hands were starting to clench and unclench, body trembling though he wasn't entirely certain it was with concern.

 

The hint of anger washing through her reiatsu sent her brother abruptly to his feet. “I apologize for bringing such troubling news,” Byakuya began, his quiet words attracting Jyuushiro's attention.

 

The older man shook his head, clearly distracted in trying to discern the perpetrator within his squad. “No, I am glad to learn of it now as opposed to later, when it is much too late for anything to be done. Thank you, Byakuya.”

 

The Kuchiki heir inclined his head, taking the opportunity to excuse himself. Byakuya didn't spare his sister another glance as he exited, leaving Rukia and Ukitake alone in the captain's office.

 

He would leave the rest to fate.

 

*****

 

The buzz of conversation was relatively quiet, not rising loud enough to disturb his captain, who was closeted in his office. Yumichika wasn't certain if Ichigo was actually doing any work but elected to leave the man alone, nonetheless. This morning, when Ichigo had arrived, he had seemed rather weary and in desperate need of a good night's sleep. After seeing the state of their captain, the division had unanimously decided to behave and make it an easy day.

 

So far, so good.

 

Not that Yumichika could have expected their visitors. Matsumoto was no surprise. She could often be found in the fifth division, hiding from Hitsugaya-taichou on the pretense of doing real work. Sentarou and Kiyone, however, were an annoyance Yumichika wasn't in the mood to tolerate. Yet, he hadn't been able to shoo them away. They were like a bad smell, lingering long after the windows had been opened.

 

In his mind, Yumichika was thoroughly cursing Ukitake-taichou for sending them over. He still hadn't been able to discern why they hadn't left yet. They had brought and deposited the paperwork but lingered with their unwanted presence. A part of him was relieved that he was forced to enjoy the third-seats rather than see their vice-captain again. He didn't like the way Ichigo acted after one of her visits.

 

Lounging on the floor in front of him, fully reclining and appearing as if she had no inclination to ever return to work, Matsumoto's drawl attracted his attention.

 

“They say that they want a kid from Rukongai,” she explained, leaning closer to him and giving everyone a view of her impressive, jiggling assets. “And probably with reiatsu. You already know that the ones with high levels have problems finding enough to eat sometimes.”

 

Yumichika raised an eyebrow, boredly admiring his fingernails. They were in need of a trim. Hmm, he would have to take care of that tonight.

 

“That's sweet,” he murmured, thinking of Ukitake-taichou and Kira-taichou. “How soon did they say?”

 

“They haven't mentioned,” Kiyone inserted with a grin, never one to be left out.

 

Yumichika barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance as the woman shoved Sentarou out of the way, trying to cover his mouth with her fingers. Their arguments hadn't stopped, even after Rukia's appointment.

 

Matsumoto sighed, seemingly ignoring the third-seats as well. “Sweet indeed,” she burbled, blindly groping for her “hidden” sake jug. “But not as cute as my kawaii taichou and his sweetheart.”

 

Her lips curled into an amused grin at the thought of draconic Hitsugaya and his relationship with the other scowling Kurosaki. There was something incredibly gravitating about that family, it seemed, even if Karin was more like her brother than should be strictly possible.

 

“Marriage on the horizon, is it?” Yumichika posed, glancing briefly at the paperwork he was supposed to be doing before concentrating instead on the gossip.

 

It, after all, changed daily. The numerous sheets of documentation he had to read and sign did not.

 

Matsumoto hummed excitedly as she took a deep swig of her jug. “Eventually. I can't wait.” Girlish excitement took over her features as she pursed her lips, already imagining the ceremony. And the reception to follow.

This time, Yumichika did roll his eyes. “You and Kyouraku-taichou.” He sighed dramatically. “Only interested in the free booze.”

 

The other vice-captain gave a fake pout. “Mah. Not so!” Matsumoto shook a finger at him, but the sulking only lasted as long as it took for her to giggle and take another swig. One finger traced the desk in front of him in a manner that was probably seductive for anyone other than Yumichika.

 

“Did ya hear, though?” she put in casually. “Akon-taichou's still looking for a fukutaichou.”

 

“I don't blame him,” Yumichika responded, thinking of the twelfth-division captain. Even after six years, that man was perfectly content without a second. “After the unfortunate--”

 

“--and gruesome--” Matsumoto inserted, her face drawing into a disgusted look as she was attacked by a full body shudder that made other assets jiggle.

 

“--and gruesome,” Yumichika amended, “demise of that freak Kurotsuchi, I would be wary of choosing one as well.” He paused to sigh, setting his chin in his palm as he balanced his elbow on his desk. “Who would have guessed that lovely Nemu had it in her?”

 

A hand clamped over Kiyone's mouth, Sentarou shoving his way into the conversation. “She's sharing a room with that Hinamori girl, you know. Two crazies packed together.”

 

This was news to Yumichika. “And such a pretty girl, too,” he commented wistfully. “It seems such a waste. Even if she is utterly insane.”

 

If anyone else had plans to put in their two yen, Yumichika never found out. The main door to the division office opened in that moment without so much as an announcement. The fifth-division vice-captain straightened in his chair, fully prepared to lash out with a reprimand for the interruption when he laid eyes on the newcomer.

 

Kurosaki-fukutaichou stood in the doorway, her reiatsu simmering around her and yet very tightly controlled. The look on her face was restrained, but anger tightened the corners of her eyes, lips pinched with displeasure. At the sight of their superior, Sentarou and Kiyone jumped, nearly running into each other in an attempt to make it seem as if they were doing something worthwhile and not arguing or gossiping.

 

While Matsumoto blinked in surprise, Yumichika found himself turning to ice at the sight of his captain's wife. “Good afternoon, Kurosaki-fukutaichou,” he greeted coolly but with all the necessary politeness as she invited herself into the office, her eyes set on Ichigo's closed door. “Kurosaki-taichou is--”

 

He was ignored, as if she hadn't even deigned to register his presence, throwing the door to his captain's office open with a slam and storming inside. It was promptly swept closed behind her, bouncing back from the wall with the sheer strength of her shove and leaving an evident gap that allowed them to see within. The sound echoed through the main office as the walls shook and the cup of brushes on Yumichika's desk rattled, a few of his decorations tumbling to the floor.

 

Yumichika was stunned, lavender eyes widening. His gaze fell to the opened door, and he was in the midst of rising to his feet to protect his captain's privacy when the echoed sound struck his hearing.

 

Slap!

 

“I can't believe you!”

 

Rukia's furious indignation immediately followed.

 

Jaw nearly dropping, though he knew by now he shouldn't be surprised anymore, Yumichika hurried from his seat. He placed himself between the others and the door. Even if they could hear, he refused to allow them to bear visible witness. He couldn't stop himself from glancing in, however, catching sight of Rukia with her hand still raised and his captain returning her angered look. A mark slowly reddened on his cheek.

 

“You went running to my brother?” she demanded, words coming out clipped and fierce. “How stupid can you get?”

 

It wasn't possible for the strike to hurt that much. Considering Ichigo's reiatsu levels and her physical strength, the most her slap would have done was redden his face. And already, that outward mark was beginning to fade. It could not have been that painful.

 

Yumichika also knew that it wasn't so much the physical pain that was the issue. It was the mental realization, the acceptance. The fact that she had struck him, had done it before and was going to do it again in the future was what truly hurt. However, his captain simply stood there, still impossibly calm.

 

He had risen to his feet, likely when she entered, and was now moving around the desk. “What are you talking about?” he asked, sounding unnaturally composed. His tone had lowered, obviously hoping she would quiet as well.

 

An indignant fury was welling in Yumichika, and he cursed Yamamoto-soutaichou under his breath, even as he understood the old man's reasoning. A part of him wished that he could see her face and the emotions there. Unfortunately, he could only see Ichigo's expression and what his captain had given up trying to hide.

 

“I can't believe you told him,” Rukia hissed, voice low and dangerous as she accused him. “And don't deny it. You had to!”

 

Her husband's volume lowered marginally once more. “I haven't told Byakuya anything,” he insisted, still very much confused. “What do you think I've told him?”

 

Her hands balled into fists at her side. Yumichika tensed, half of him wanting to storm in and put an end to it. But he also knew his captain would never stand for that.

 

“You know! He came to Ukitake-taichou's office today.”

 

Ichigo shook his head. “The only thing I've mentioned is how busy you were because he asked. That's nothing unusual.”

 

True to Yumichika's expectations her hand shot upwards and her palm shoved into his chest. “Don't give me that bullshit,” she snarled as he absorbed the blow. “I'm not an idiot.”

 

Rather than retaliate, Ichigo took a step backwards, increasing the space between them. “I didn't say you were.” He hadn't even raised his voice yet.

 

From his position, Yumichika could see the back of Rukia's shoulders tense before she grasped for the first thing within her reach. It just happened to be the Ichigo's stamp, which she promptly chucked at her husband. Practiced movement made it all too easy for him to dodge as it hit the wall behind him with a loud snap, ink splattering.

 

“Don't patronize me.”

 

That was the final straw. Yumichika was fully prepared to throw Ichigo's pride to the wind and interrupt, pretending in the end that it had been an accident. He couldn't keep watching that look in his normally strong captain's eyes. Love was such a dangerous thing.

 

He only managed one step forward when a slim hand clamped firmly on his shoulder, stopping him. As if knowing what he planned.

 

“That's business we shouldn't interfere in,” Matsumoto warned from behind him.

 

Rage was burning its way through him as he pinched his lips. “I know that,” Yumichika huffed, falling silent as he clamped down the rest of his thoughts.

 

He knew that damn well, but he was also tired of witnessing it. The first two times had been enough. He could still remember clearly the first instance. Though he had forgotten what exactly had started the argument, he knew he would never forget the sound of her raised voice or the sight of her hand striking her husband.

 

Yumichika chanced a glance behind him, catching Kiyone and Sentarou hastily dropping their eyes. Matsumoto was shocked, yet still managing to maintain a hold on her composure. Slender fingers were tapping at her sake jug, however, as if only barely able to rein in the urge to drink.

 

There was another, more muffled crash, and Yumichika hurriedly returned his attention to the inner sanctum of the office. Obviously, he had missed a vital part of the conversation.

 

“Why would Byakuya go to Jyuushiro?” Ichigo was in the midst of demanding, his tenuous hold on patience beginning to run thin. “I don't understand what the issue is!”

 

Rukia had shifted positions, enough that Yumichika could see her in profile. Anger written so fiercely across her features that it was as if she had become a demon. Her hand shot through the air, palm slapping Ichigo violently across the face. The sound that echoed was far louder than even the first strike.

 

His captain's head turned to the side, a smart move that would absorb the blow and deflect much of the force. But Ichigo didn't say anything, didn't even speak. His hands still remained lax against his side, not even displaying an attempt to hold himself back.

 

His wife's body shuddered with fury as she breathed heavily, shoulders heaving. “You know damn well,” Rukia spat. “Our business is our business!”

 

She whirled on her feet, storming towards the door. Yumichika barely moved out of the way before she had slammed it open and pushed through the gathered crowd. She didn't seem to notice those around her or even her third-seats presence as she exited in a flurry of angered reiatsu.

 

Behind her, the door to Ichigo's office was left halfway open, no longer hiding anything.

 

An uncomfortable silence descended as no one moved, no one daring to even speak. Yumichika forced himself to a semblance of control, his lips a thin line. He dared a look towards his captain, catching sight of Ichigo with his back to the door. It took an eye that was looking for it to tell that the man was visibly shaking.

 

Yumichika reached forward and ever so quietly, slid the door shut, the wood barely making a sound. All that was left was to get rid of the unwanted witnesses. He only wished that Matsumoto had not been present. Her mouth was the largest in all of Seireitei. He feared that the time for keeping the fifth division's closely guarded secret was already spent.

 

Matsumoto sucked in a breath, raking a hand through her lustrous hair. “What in Hueco Mundo was that about?” she asked, voice unusually soft, as though afraid to break the sudden silence.

 

It was surprising… this example of her restraint.

 

Shaking his head, Yumichika refused to move from his position in front of the door. “None of our business,” he responded crisply and flitted his fingers at her. “Come on. I've work to do.”

 

She held her ground. “Yumi, I know you know something,” Matsumoto attempted to wheedle, sensing that she had stumbled upon prime fuel for her wagging tongue.

 

Purple eyes hardened in determination. “Nothing at all,” the other vice-captain stated firmly, tone brooking no argument.

 

Pouting, Matsumoto flipped her hair over one shoulder. “If you say so.” She turned and scooped up her papers with one hand, flitting towards the exit. “But don't think I won't pester you later.”

 

“I'm sure you will,” he replied under his breath, though she was already long gone, and turned to focus his attention on the other two lingerers. “Your captain is waiting for you as well.”

 

He affixed both Sentarou and Kiyone with his carefully perfected look of command that had successfully established his role in the fifth-division. Not to mention intimidating countless members of the eleventh long before that.

 

They snapped to attention, saluting him like a pair of idiotic twin soldiers. “Yes, Ayasegawa-fukutaichou!” they parroted, scurrying out after Matsumoto and leaving the office feeling marginally fresher.

 

Once they were absent, Yumichika forced himself to take several deep and steadying breaths, trying to cleanse away the fury that was still threading through him. It wasn't so much that he had always disliked Kurosaki Rukia. She was, in fact, exactly the type of woman he liked. Strong and beautiful, sharp-tongued and amusing.

 

But once Yumichika had been made vice-captain, his loyalties ran entirely with Ichigo and not unsurprisingly. He had thought Ichigo and Rukia a good match but only until he had been forced to bear witness to the truth beneath their seemingly perfect marriage. Like the rest of the fifth, it had been kept a secret, not wanting to tarnish and ruin their captain's dignity.

 

He cast his eyes over the room, gaze finally settling on the paperwork that Kiyone and Sentarou had brought over. Half of it was supposed to go to Ichigo, though he hadn't brought it to his captain yet. He had been waiting until the two third-seats left. It was the perfect excuse he needed to check up on his captain without seemingly doing so.

 

Gathering up the documents, he approached the door and rapped lightly with a knuckle to announce his presence. “Ichigo-kun?” he ventured, knowing that his captain had long ago dispensed with things that were overly formal.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Yumichika slid open the door slowly, stepping inside. Ichigo had finally moved back to his desk and was in the process of lowering himself down.

 

“Is that the new paperwork?” Ichigo questioned, eyes flickering to the stacks in Yumichika's arms as he organized items on his desk, attempting to seem normal.

 

The reddening that was slowly fading from his captain's face made Yumichika want to bristle all over again. “Yes,” he answered, pushing all the fury down and gliding over to deposit the new stack.

 

Ichigo exhaled and picked up his brush, giving Yumichika a smile that was too hesitant to be real. “If I'd known being a captain was this much paperwork, I might have reconsidered, ne?”

 

The rage burned colder.

 

Yumichika knew that smile, had seen it before in the higher districts of Rukongai. On the faces of women whose husbands or boyfriends or even customers of the day had beaten them. Those who had taken the abuse without a sound and never said a word because they were afraid there would be worse consequences, worse things would happen to them. Only, Yumichika knew it wasn't fear that held his captain's tongue. It was love, something perhaps even more worrisome.

 

Ichigo would never strike Rukia; it wasn't in him to do so, no matter how many times she hit him. He couldn't bring himself to lift a hand against the woman he loved, and truly he still did, even though their relationship was slowly sliding to an end. Yumichika wondered if they even shared a reiryoku bond anymore or if it had dissolved completely.

 

“You have a point,” Yumichika conceded, realizing that an uncomfortable amount of time had passed between the last words spoken. He redirected tentatively, “Are you alright, Ichigo-kun?”

 

The other man blinked for a moment, all of the sorrow visible in brown eyes before it was abruptly gone, shuttered behind a careful masquerade. “Of course, Yumichika. Thanks for the papers.”

 

Hide it behind a mask. Yumichika had seen it far too many times in his life. Though he never expected to ever find it in the expression of his perpetually honest captain.

 

“You're welcome.” He hesitated, wincing inwardly. “Kiyone and Sentarou actually brought it. And Matsumoto was here as well. I apologize if we were too noisy for you.”

 

“I honestly didn't even notice,” Ichigo replied, tugging the documents closer to him and running his gaze over the words. But he wasn't really seeing them, fingers absently holding a brush with no ink on it.

 

A quiet fell, Yumichika watching his captain closely. He knew he should have dismissed himself already, but he lingered, unwilling to leave just yet.

 

After a moment, Ichigo looked up at him. “I think that I'll be busy for a while. If you want, you can leave early today.”

 

It was Friday, after all. Not that it meant much to Soul Society, which was busy round the clock and not just on the weekdays. But Yumichika knew he wasn't going to leave his captain alone in an empty office.

 

“No,” he denied, offering his best smile. “They brought me a stack just as big as yours.”

 

“Well, the offer stands,” Ichigo responded, returning his gaze to the trivial work, most of which just needed a signature or two.

 

“And thank you for it.” Yumichika paused. “I could bring in some tea, if you want.”

 

Ichigo shook his head, already pulling inwards “No, but thanks.”

 

He watched his captain for another long moment, wishing he was capable of doing something more. “Just call if you need anything,” Yumichika announced, trying for a bright cheeriness that he didn't feel before leaving the room.

 

His eyes hadn't failed to notice the two broken items on the floor. One was a broken ink well, black liquid seeping onto the wooden floor.

 

*****

 

The constant noise of the tip of his brush against the desk top was only a dim sound in the background. Jyuushiro wasn't even really paying attention to his own behavior, mulling over what Byakuya had revealed to him. He still had no idea about identity of those involved and had half a mind to visit his kouhai to demand more of an explanation.

 

The silence within his division was not helping matters. Rukia had already expressed a need to be off early, and he had conceded, knowing she hadn't been spending nearly enough time with her children. The idea of an altercation with one of her subordinates must have hit her hard. But now that she was absent, there was no one in his office.

 

The quiet was almost startling.

 

Suddenly, as if to mock him for enjoying the peace, he heard the noises of Kiyone and Sentarou's return. They tumbled into his outer office with all the grace of a hoard of Hollows, loudly arguing. Their voices were mingling in their volume, and he couldn't make any sense of it. So Ukitake pushed the noise to the back of his mind, returning to his contemplations, but he couldn't have expected his third-seats to come bursting into his office without any sort of announcement.

 

In tandem, they turned and slammed the door shut behind them.

 

“Ukitake-taichou, there's something we have to tell you!” the two announced in perfect unison, throwing themselves to the floor in front of his desk and into a seating position.

 

Jyuushiro blinked, a bit perturbed by their lack of propriety, as his brush froze mid-tap. “Is it really that important?” he questioned, remembering similar incidents where they had interrupted his work in order to tell him something rather inane and trivial.

 

He had not been pleased.

 

Two heads nodded jerkily in arrant harmony as they sat straight, fingers grasping their knees. They were nearly trembling with the effort of holding back their news.

 

The captain sighed and rubbed fingers across his forehead. “Very well. Continue.” Jyuushiro quickly amended, “Slowly and one at a time.” He watched as Kiyone and Sentarou exchanged glances, obviously unsure where to begin.

 

“You go first,” Sentarou offered graciously for the first time ever. At least, to Jyuushiro's witnessing.

 

Kiyone shook her head. “No. You go first,” she urged.

 

It was as if someone had turned down the volume. Their voices went hushed, carrying a faint tremble of nervousness.

 

Concern began to well within Jyuushiro. Rarely had he seen his third-seats like this, quiet and almost twitchy. Usually, they were loud and boisterous, filling the room with eager sound. This uneasiness was disturbing.

 

“Is something wrong?” the captain urged, his eyes flickering between them.

 

They nodded again, still silent.

 

“And what is it?” he prompted, wondering if it was something he had needed to know ten minutes ago. Sometimes, they had no concept of the term “urgent.”

 

“We were at the fifth division--” Kiyone began, the words almost exploding out of her as if she couldn't hold back anymore.

 

“--when Kurosaki-fukutaichou showed up,” Sentarou finished for her.

 

Jyuushiro inclined his head, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind his ear. “She did say she had to go home early. That is not unexpected.”

 

“But she was mad,” Sentarou countered.

 

Kiyone firmly confirmed, “Very mad.”

 

The captain mulled over this information. Had Rukia been that upset by Byakuya's visit? Had she some childhood trauma that he hadn't known of? Perhaps that had been the reason behind her need to return home early.

 

“And she went into his office!” Kiyone blurted out, starting forward before rocking back on her heels. Clearly, she couldn't hold back any longer.

 

What came next was a blur of words, hastily pouring from their mouths so quickly that he could barely follow.

 

“Only the door didn't shut all the way, and it's not our fault.”

 

“We didn't mean to hear, but we couldn't help it. They were being so loud.”

 

He soon lost the ability to tell one voice from the other as he tried to absorb the information that they were attempting to explain in a vaguely coherent fashion.

 

“And Matsumoto-fukutaichou and Ayasegawa-fukutaichou were there, too. They were so shocked.”

 

“We heard a crash. And we just wanted to know what was going on.”

 

“But Ayasegawa-fukutaichou was guarding the door, but he couldn't stop us from hearing.”

 

Jyuushiro felt something grow cold in his belly, turning an uncomfortable icy temperature. Byakuya's earlier words were bouncing around in his skull, reminding him of certain key points.

 

No mention of names. The accusation would ruin them. Children. His vice-captain's odd behavior.

 

He felt as if he were coming to a very painful conclusion that he never would have imagined, even in his darkest hours.

 

The captain quickly cleared his throat, interrupting them. “Are you trying to tell me that you saw Ichigo-kun and his wife having a fight?” he demanded, not wanting to believe for a single second that Ichigo would ever hit Rukia.

 

His third-seats shifted uneasily, exchanging an uncertain look.

 

“We didn't exactly see it,” Sentarou admitted.

 

“We only heard,” Kiyone verified, her fingers clenching tightly to her knees. “She was yelling at him, so it was hard not to.”

 

Sentarou agreed, adding, “And she was screaming about him telling Kuchiki-taichou something.”

 

“Then, we heard her hit him.”

 

In that instant, Jyuushiro's thoughts abruptly derailed, crashing to the ground with little grace and going up in a puff of roiling grey smoke and flame. He wasn't even sure he could properly register that bit of information.

 

He never truly got the chance.

 

For the second time that day, the door to his office abruptly slammed open, nearly cracking as it flew into its port. Shunsui stood there, completely filling the doorway. His hat was askew, pink haori hanging from only one shoulder, and he was barefoot, having apparently forgotten his sandals. Jyuushiro had been so shocked he hadn't even sensed his best friend coming.

 

“Jyuu-chan!” Shunsui heaved as if he had been running a marathon, something a lot like anger alighting in his features. “You have to hear this.”

 

From the look on his face, Jyuushiro could only assume that the other captain had used shunpo the entire distance. He actually appeared furious, and Jyuushiro knew for a fact that Shunsui was normally unflappable, calm in the face of everything.

 

His face met his palm, Jyuushiro having a pretty good idea of why his friend was here. “And you said Matsumoto-fukutaichou had been there?” he asked, eying Kiyone and Sentarou.

 

They both gave him a meek shrug.

 

Jyuushiro sighed, immediately connecting the dots. From Matsumoto to Nanao-san to Shunsui. News certainly traveled fast, something to be expected when it involved a rumor of this magnitude.

 

He wasn't even certain he could absorb all of it. Most of the information was still spinning around in his brain, jerkily dancing a tango with his ability to rationalize.

 

Rukia? Abusing Ichigo?

 

It seemed too wild to be true, too surreal. It was as if someone was playing a very cruel joke that in no way was funny. Yet, with Byakuya's visit and then this, Jyuushiro could only conclude that he had somehow missed an important happening.

 

It was time for damage control.

 

He affixed his third-seats with his most serious expression, one that brooked no argument. “You are to speak of this to no one,” he warned with a tone he rarely utilized. “Am I clear?”

 

They nodded, though he noticed that Kiyone seemed faintly shifty-eyed. In any case, he knew that they would not be telling another soul.

 

“Dismissed.”

 

The two immediately scrambled from their seats, practically careening out of his office in nearly the same manner they had arrived. Once they were gone, Jyuushiro gestured to the space they had abandoned.

 

“What're we going to do about this, Jyuu-chan?” Shunsui asked as he perched on his friend's desk, paying no attention to his rumpled state. “Knowing Rangiku, she's already told half the damn city.”

 

And for once in his life, Ukitake Jyuushiro was at a loss. He simply didn't know what to do.

 

*****