Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ 12: Of Bravery ( Chapter 13 )

Of Violence

Chapter Twelve: Of Bravery

 

“How many does he actually expect you to take on?”

 

Ichigo shrugged, mindlessly tapping his brush against the paperwork he still had to sign. “More than I actually want,” he responded, thinking of the influx of Academy students who Yamamoto recommended join his division.

 

In front of him, Byakuya frowned thoughtfully. “I do not see why Yamamoto-soutaichou doesn't send them to the seventh. They still haven't recuperated their losses after the war.”

 

“Or even the fourth,” Ichigo added musingly. “Maybe he really is getting senile.” There was a hint of teasing in his voice, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

 

Byakuya snorted, lifting a brow. “I'll let you be the first to tell him that.”

 

“He doesn't scare me,” Ichigo scoffed, dropping the brush and pushing his paperwork off to the side. He was absolutely certain it was busy work anyway.

 

The Kuchiki heir gave his brother-in-law a look that spoke volumes without him having to actually say a word.

 

Ichigo exhaled and waved a hand. “Fine,” he acquiesced. “Only a little. But you have to admit, he's got more muscles than I do. A guy can't help but feel inadequate.”

 

“I try not to think about it,” Byakuya responded with a grimace, shifting slightly in his position to accommodate the sudden tingling in his legs.

 

It was very blessedly normal, this moment, the two of them simply chatting in Ichigo's office, even while the rest of the world kept on turning. Shinigami ran to and fro in the sticky heat outside, carrying missive after missive. Ayasegawa was humming to himself in the outer office, likely dusting if the swishing noise meant anything. It seemed perfectly normal.

 

A part of Byakuya was waiting for the other shoe to fall. And he was purposefully ignoring any insane cackles in the back of his skull. As well as knowing grey eyes that were both pitying and exasperated. He wondered who else would be thinking to give him advice. Hitsugaya Toushirou?

 

“Oy, Byakuya.”

 

The older man blinked, not realizing he had somehow lost his focus. “Yes?” he asked, returning his attention to Ichigo and reaching for his tea. He sipped at the cooled liquid.

 

Brown eyes watched him for a moment. “You were spacing out,” he said with a faint frown. “If the sixth division is that busy, you know that you can...” Ichigo trailed off when he caught sight of the Hell Butterfly flitting in through his open window. It fluttered towards him, rather than Byakuya.

 

Ichigo held up a finger, allowing the black swallowtail to rest upon the tip. His frown deepened as the message was relayed, Byakuya only able to watch and wonder. He sipped at his tea, quickly cooling in his hands. From the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of his brother-in-law's rapidly changing expressions.

 

“Thank you,” Ichigo murmured, something in his gaze seeming pained. “Please respond with an affirmative. Sunday at five is best.”

 

The Hell Butterfly lingered for a few moments more before rising with a quick flap, flittering out the same way it had entered. Ichigo watched its exit, something hopeful and strained in his expression.

 

“What is it?” Byakuya asked, hating the sudden churning in his belly at that look on his friend's face.

 

Ichigo's eyes shuttered to the side, as if he didn't want to meet Byakuya's gaze. “It was from Rukia.”

 

The sixth-division captain lifted one brow. “Rukia?”

 

Ichigo nodded, sadness and longing replacing most of the emotions in a continuous pattern reflected on his face. “She asked to see the kids.”

 

“And?”

 

“What do you think?” Ichigo demanded and raked a hand through his hair with a pained sigh. “I told her she could.”

 

Byakuya set his cup down, frowning deeply. “Even though they think she is on patrol?”

 

“I told them the truth already.” Ichigo winced.

 

“Oh?” That Byakuya had not expected to hear. It surprised him.

 

Ichigo shook his head. “I don't give them enough credit. Kaien saw her at the baby shower, and Syaoran has suspected something from the beginning.” He paused, gaze flittering to the window and the blue sky beyond. “Kaien thought it was his fault.”

 

“More mine than his,” Byakuya inserted quietly.

 

The other captain snorted. “I've gotten over that. It's the rest of the bullshit that bothers me.”

 

It was more forgiveness than Byakuya felt he deserved, considering all that Ichigo was being forced to endure right now. But he also couldn't justify keeping silent. Perhaps it would have been better if he had left them to solve their ills on their own, but it could have also been much worse. There was no way to tell, and truthfully, a part of him was infuriated by the idea of Ichigo being put through something like him. It was the part of him that listened to Kenpachi cackling in his mind, accusing him of such things as denial and impossible feelings.

 

Byakuya raised his cup, hiding behind the plain porcelain. “Understandable,” he responded, breathing in the aroma but not drinking.

 

There was a moment of silence before Ichigo spoke again, eyes closed and fingers rubbing the back of his neck where muscles cramped from stress. “I didn't have any answers for them. I didn't know what to say.”

 

“You think it is a good idea for them to see her?”

 

Ichigo turned his attention back towards Byakuya. “They miss her, and I know she misses them. They are her children, too. I wouldn't think to keep them from her.”

 

The other captain absorbed this for a moment, a suggestion banking at the back of his mind. Byakuya wondered the best way to delicately put it and then realized there was no other way than to simply state it. He only hoped Ichigo wouldn't react negatively.

 

“Ichigo...” he began but hesitated. And Byakuya was not normally one to hesitate, which captured Ichigo's attention. “I wouldn't suggest you continue without supervision.”

 

Ichigo's brow furrowed. “I'll be there.”

 

“That is a given,” Byakuya conceded. “But not quite what I intended. I meant supervision so that she doesn't harm you again,” he explained slowly, watching Ichigo carefully for his reaction.

 

Surprise flickered over Ichigo's face before it was quickly replaced with realization and then resignation. The expected blow-up did not occur, which Byakuya was grateful for. He did not want to alienate his best friend.

 

Ichigo exhaled, aging several years in that moment. “It's come to that, has it?” he asked and dropped his eyes to the desk.

 

It was wrong of him to do so, but Byakuya felt the need to express his own worries. “I fear it is my own fault for never noticing it before.” He received a typical Ichigo scowl in response, indignation rising from him in waves.

 

“I don't need protection.”

 

Byakuya tipped his head. “Yet, you allowed her to strike you for two decades.” He paused and then decided that if not for his own sake that reminding Ichigo of his children would suffice. “Nor is it something that Kaien and Syaoran need witness again.”

 

Any protest Ichigo might have had died instantly on his lips, and Byakuya hated himself for bringing that look of shame to his friend's face. Ichigo already considered himself a terrible father; Byakuya was only making it worse. He felt as if he were treading a very thin line, and every step was a choice between two equally painful results.

 

Ichigo sank back against the wall, covering his face with his hand. “I don't need any of those nosy people who think they know everything,” he muttered, voice filled with irritation. “Otherwise, there will be violence of a different kind.”

 

Byakuya felt his lip twitch at that, despite it being entirely inappropriate. “I will be there. That should suffice.”

 

He watched as Ichigo's scowl deepened, for a minute looking all of sixteen again, lips pinching in annoyance. “Fine,” he gritted out and roughly grabbed his brush, as if planning on taking out his anger on his paperwork.

 

Grey eyes watched him intently, sensing somehow that the firm and nearly white-knuckled grip he had on the brush meant that there was more yet for Ichigo to say. Of course, the fact that Ichigo wasn't actually writing anything but staring at the paper as if it were the cause of his ills might have also been his first clue. A single drop of ink, improperly dabbed from the well, dripped onto the paper and then the brush dropped down as quickly as it had been picked up.

 

Ichigo's gaze found the window, brow drawing downwards in deep thought. “I don't want it to be like this,” he said softly, as though not quite conscious of his own admission. “I want everything to go away, for things to go back to the way they were.”

 

Exactly what “were” was Ichigo referring to? There were so many. Before the children had ever been born? Before Rukia had been promoted? Before they had ever been married? There were too many pivotal points in their relationship for Byakuya to just simply assume and pin down one. He couldn't even begin to guess himself when anger had turned to violence, and a small part of him didn't want to know.

 

Confused, Byakuya tentatively questioned, “You want her to strike you?”

 

The look Ichigo shot him in return was a mix of horror and annoyance. “Of course not,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “But I do want my wife back. I want my life back.” His voice softened as though regretful of snapping at Byakuya. “I'm fucking tired of sleeping alone.”

 

Ichigo's words, his very tone, triggered something in Byakuya, and he slowly inclined his head. “I understand,” the noble replied, his own thoughts suddenly running rampant, treading the same rhythm as the strange staccato of his heart.

 

Despite whatever insinuations Zaraki had tried to convince him of, there really was nothing Byakuya wanted more than for his sister and Ichigo to work things out. He wanted his friend to be happy again, to see the family as it had once been. For Rukia to be happy, rather than strained and sleepless, for his nieces and nephews to have both of their parents. For the rumors to cease and for the constant pain to leave his best friend's eyes.

 

Yet, a part of him feared for Ichigo as well. He knew that the strikes could not have physically hurt that much, but Byakuya still didn't want Ichigo to suffer it anymore. He worried that if the two of them were to work things out, that Ichigo would be left always walking on tiptoes, afraid to offset a balance that would lead back to the abuse.

 

Byakuya couldn't help but feel caught in between the two of them, knowing that he should be supporting both Rukia and Ichigo. A part of him seemed to be drawn more towards his brother-in-law, as if Ichigo actually needed his protection.

 

“Yeah, maybe you do,” Ichigo snipped at him, breaking Byakuya from his thoughtful reverie.

 

He was not offended by the nasty tone, able to recognize when Ichigo was merely reacting and not actually angry at him. Ichigo, however, seemed to catch himself with a sigh, scrubbing an anxious hand over his head.

 

“I'm sorry.” His gaze dropped to the desk, examining the whorls of the dark wood. “I'm not very good company right now.” Disappointment, likely in himself, radiated from his reiatsu.

 

He sounded so apologetic that Byakuya felt he had to protest. “If I wanted cheer, I would take Yachiru out for ice cream again.”

 

Ichigo snorted. “The little brat would love it if you did.” The brush finally scribbled over the paperwork, though it was nothing more than a signature. Operating on automatic, most likely. “All the little girls love you.”

 

His lips twitched. “The same could be said about you,” Byakuya countered, thinking of Nel and how the little Arrancar had stoutly clung to Ichigo, refusing to leave him alone. Even when the odds seemed stacked against her and she knew it wasn't safe, she didn't want to leave his side.

 

She had jealously guarded Ichigo against Rukia back then, claiming “Itsygo” as hers. Nel had never wanted to leave Ichigo's side, and it wasn't until she volunteered to be “Gin-chan's protector” that she finally stopped her clinging.

 

Even Yachiru was enthralled by Ichigo, enough that she would occasionally leap to his shoulder. He endured her weight as if she were nothing more than a feather, though he always outwardly blustered. He would tell her to get off but never actually tried to pry her free. It was protest for the sake of it, and everyone knew it.

 

A light knock on the door broke through Byakuya's thoughts as it was slid open, Ayasegawa sticking his head inside. “I'm sorry to interrupt,” he said, smiling cheerily at Byakuya before redirecting his attention towards his captain. “But you wanted to oversee the practices for today, and they are ready to begin.”

 

“Ah, I had nearly forgot,” Ichigo responded and looked all too eager to abandon his paperwork. “Byakuya...”

 

The Kuchiki heir set his tea down and shook his head, already rising to his feet. “I am certain there is my own work I am supposed to be completing. Do not mind me.” He lifted Senbonzakura from where he had set her next to him, sliding the zanpakutou into his obi.

 

“Alright. See you for lunch?”

 

Byakuya cursed himself for the warming that simple and innocent question provoked. “Of course.”

 

He tipped his head in farewell to both captain and vice-captain and then excused himself. It was absolutely not a hasty exit to cover the strange feelings fluttering around inside of him. At least, that was what he was telling himself.

 

Kenpachi's words had nothing to do with anything. Not at all. And even if they did, there was nothing Byakuya was going to do about it.

 

He headed towards his own division, not that it was far away. He wasn't lying when he said there was work he had to do; he just found it far more interesting to talk with Ichigo than it was to complete mind-numbing evaluations and incidence reports.

 

 

Ichigo was anxious, more than he should have been. It wasn't his usual state to be uneasy about much of anything, but seeing his wife again after the separation and the rumors wasn't going to be simply casual. And his children seemed to have picked up on his anxiety, both Kaien and Syaoran quietly playing for once, not even his eldest making a loud peep. Ryuunosuke and Mikan both had been unwilling to take their nap earlier and were fidgety as a result. Ichigo thought it best to leave them in the nursery under Tohru's care.

 

Currently, they were outside in the garden, Ichigo and Byakuya perched on the porch. They watched the children enjoying the mild weather. It had finally cooled from the sticky warm temperatures they had been suffering lately. Syaoran was sifting her way through the flowers, picking a colorful collection to give her mother. Kaien was trying to climb one of the many large trees, threading his way through the branches as though he were part simian.

 

For the most part, it seemed a perfectly normal, perfectly peaceful scenario. Except that it wasn't because all of them were anxiously awaiting Rukia's arrival. Ichigo was noticeably silent, and Byakuya had long stopped trying to invoke conversation.

 

“Ichigo-san?”

 

It took great effort for Ichigo not to startle at the sound of Nami's voice, and he turned towards the sliding door that led back into the house. His housekeeper was standing there, bowing faintly.

 

“Yes?”

 

She gestured behind her, where a shorter form could just barely be made out in the dim of the interior. “Kurosaki-fukutaichou is here.”

 

Ichigo nodded and rose to his feet as Byakuya remained seated. “Thank you, Nami.”

 

Nami bowed again and stepped back into the house, leaving room for Rukia to exit onto the porch. It was all so formal that it struck a pang inside Ichigo. This was Rukia's house, too. And yet, she was being treated almost like a stranger, merely a visitor. The change was still startling to Ichigo, who finally laid eyes on his wife.

 

Her smile was thin. “I already stopped by to see the twins. I hope I'm not too early,” Rukia said by way of greeting, hands clasped in front of her.

 

Though she looked tired and obviously strained, she was still a sight for sore eyes.

 

Ichigo shook his head. “No, it's fine.”

 

His gaze raked over her, taking in the sight of her casual clothes. He remembered buying that kimono because he liked the way it looked on her. He remembered the surprise on her face when she realized he actually did have some taste in fashion. He never explained that Ishida had helped.

 

He was still in love with her; he knew it.

 

Ichigo felt awkward, two desires warring strongly in him. He wanted to keep a safe distance to spare himself the hurt of her rejection. But he also wanted to hold her because he couldn't stand to see that pained expression on her face. It was obvious that their separation and all the rumors were taking as much a toll on her as it was on him. If not more.

 

Blue eyes fell on her brother. “Good afternoon, nii-sama,” Rukia greeted as Byakuya turned towards her, hands idly patting down invisible wrinkles in his kimono.

 

Byakuya's gaze was quick and appraising, displaying his own awkwardness. He hadn't spoken to Rukia since the entire affair came into light. It showed in their reactions towards each other. And he greeted her quietly with the same pained formality.

 

Ichigo inwardly sighed, turning towards the garden. “Kaien! Syaoran!” the man called, gathering their attention.

 

The two looked up at the sound of their names. Kaien immediately scampered down from the tree as Syaoran abandoned her flower-picking. The eldest of their children came their way as Ichigo looked back towards his wife, whose eyes were already taking on a noticeable sheen. She had missed their children. Ichigo was glad to know that. Maybe it wasn't entirely over. However, he inwardly hoped he wasn't seeing something that wasn't there.

 

“Go talk to them,” Ichigo urged.

 

Rukia was already moving forward before he had even finished, stepping off the porch and onto the verdant grass. Several steps later, she met Kaien and Syaoran halfway, crouching to wrap her arms around both her children. The relief and happiness on her face was evident, even from the distance, as the two threw their arms around their mother.

 

She spoke to them, but the distance was too great for either of the men to make out her words clearly. Ichigo made a conscious effort not to listen, sighing as he lowered himself back to the porch. His gaze remained locked on his wife, however, watching as she spoke.

Rukia's smile widened as Syaoran handed over the bundle of flowers she had gathered for her mother. Kaien appeared to be excitedly talking about something, reenacting a sparring session with Ikkaku from the looks of it. He was swinging his arms about in an imitation of sword moves, ignoring Syaoran's disapproving stares for his energy.

 

`The children need their mother,' Ichigo reminded himself.

 

It was so very obvious by their behavior, by their reactions. He only wished Rukia could see it as well. That what he needed to do could be as obvious. If there was ever a moment he wanted to turn back time, it was now.

 

He wanted her back; he wanted their happiness back. He wanted his children to have their mother, to see Rukia's eyes light up as they used to. Their familiar banter, their teamwork. He wanted to kiss her again, to remember what she tasted like and how she felt in his arms. But then, he wondered if she even missed him. He simply couldn't tell.

 

Rukia laughed lightly, the sound carrying easy to Ichigo's ears. She used to laugh like that for him.

 

It struck him in that moment as he watched her smile and laugh with the children, that their relationship had been deteriorating for a long time. Not that he hadn't realized it before, but it hadn't been as apparent as it was now. She was only that open, that emotional with the children. She had been pulling away from him bit by bit. The distance between them, which he had been hoping to heal, was now a rift. A great chasm that he had no wings to cross.

 

“Ichigo.”

 

The fifth-division captain blinked slowly, turning towards Byakuya. He was nearly surprised to find the concern hiding behind those grey irises.

 

“I'm fine,” he answered on automatic, somehow knowing what Byakuya was going to say. He shifted his attention back to watching Rukia. “Honestly, I'm fine.”

 

He missed the disbelieving flicker that crossed his companion's face. And the way Byakuya continued to watch him throughout the length of Rukia's visit.

 

Time seemed to drag for Ichigo, though logically it couldn't have been that long. He already knew Rukia wasn't planning on staying. She didn't want to give the children any false assurances or get their hopes up.

 

Urging them to go play, which they did with much reluctance and disappointment in their expressions, Rukia crossed the garden. She made her way back to Ichigo and Byakuya. Both rose to their feet this time, Ichigo noticing that Rukia's face was carefully concealing her emotions.

 

“Syaoran wants to be a princess,” Rukia commented softly with a lingering glance towards her two eldest. “That's new.”

 

Ichigo shot Byakuya a look. “You can blame your brother for that one,” he informed his wife. “He wants an heir.”

 

Chewing on her bottom lip for a minute, Rukia heaved a great breath and finally lifted her eyes to her husband. “Thank you. For telling them, I mean. I was going to if you hadn't, but...”

 

“It's fine,” Ichigo interjected and something inside of him twisted quite painfully. “They were not happy about it, but they listened.”

 

Rukia nodded, her gaze unconsciously turning back towards her children, following Kaien as he tugged his sister over to show her something on the tree he had climbed. Rukia's fingers still clutched the bouquet that Syaoran gave her, the flowers only serving to make the situation seem even more tense and awkward.

 

“I never... I didn't...” Her grip on the green stems tightened, one snapping quietly beneath the pressure. “I'm sorry.”

 

Byakuya, feeling the part of an intruder, stood by silently. To see the both of them acting as strangers to one another when he had witnessed their prior intimacy was disheartening. No matter what Zaraki's words implied, he couldn't quite agree. Ichigo and Rukia loved each other. The pain they felt was obviously shared.

 

He couldn't help but feel like he was interfering in some way. A part of him wanted to give the couple some privacy, but the protective part of him, a part he didn't quite understand, refused to step away.

 

Beside the Kuchiki heir, Ichigo swallowed thickly, forcing himself to maintain calm. He wanted to go to her so badly that he had to lock his knees.

 

“How long?” he asked, hating that his voice came out hoarse and strained. “How long are you going to make them wait?”

 

He didn't ask what he really wanted to know. How long was she going to make him wait as well? How much longer would he have to go through the same routine without any knowledge of the future? How much longer would he cling to something that may or may not even exist?

 

“I don't know,” Rukia answered honestly. “I really don't, Ichigo.” Her focus was still carefully trained on the floor, both of her hands now wrapped around the bouquet as if it were her lifeline.

 

“They want their mother back,” Ichigo informed her, though he knew she had to have already realized it. “And I miss my wife.” The last was added much quieter, almost as if he were too afraid to say it.

 

She stilled suddenly, another flower stem cracking with a delicate crush. “I know. And I'm sorry. I just...” Rukia paused, brow furrowing as she struggled to find the right words. “I don't think that's a good idea right now.”

 

“Because of what everyone else is saying?”

 

Her eyes snapped up towards his. “Because I don't want to hurt you again,” Rukia countered, probably more sharply than she intended. Her eyes widened briefly, shame coloring her face as she remembered the presence of her brother.

 

Ichigo felt something pressing on his chest, like a great hand was squeezing him, fingers tightening around his heart. His gaze found the safety of the wall as he struggled to control his reaction. It wasn't that he hadn't known, but to hear her say it like that, admit it so simply, was painful.

 

Silence reigned on the porch, a pressing quiet that was broken only by the quiet sounds of Kaien and Syaoran in the background. Byakuya politely averted his eyes, courteously pretending he wasn't there to witness the slow decay of his best friend and his sister's marriage.

 

For several breaths, no one spoke or moved. Finally, Rukia firmed her lips and bowing faintly, all too politely.

 

“Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to see them,” she said. With a last anxious glance towards her brother, Rukia stepped between the two captains and headed back into the house. She would let herself out.

 

Ichigo merely stood there, unable to go after her and unable to say anything. He sucked in several breaths, forcing himself to breathe through the tension. It felt as if every muscle in his body was strung tightly, coiling him into a ball of emotions that would never be unraveled. A hand settled on his shoulder, fingers squeezing briefly.

 

“It will be alright,” Byakuya said simply, his comfort worth more than the thousand same words that had been given to Ichigo already.

 

Ichigo, however, had nothing to say in return. He nodded mutely, allowed Byakuya's hand to slip from his shoulder, and then stepped off the porch. The sudden need to be with his children overcame him as he headed for the tree Kaien was attempting to convince his sister to climb.

 

Byakuya watched him, feeling angry with himself for being unable to do anything but watch. His heart cracked just a little as he watched Ichigo pull himself together, dredge up a smile for his children, and simply be strong. Be brave.

 

The Kuchiki heir turned away and entered the home, his feet taking him automatically towards the kitchen. There, Sanji had already wisely brewed some fresh tea and was in the midst of setting it at the table. Byakuya thanked the cook and took his seat, wrapping suddenly cold fingers around the warm cup.

 

He couldn't help but feel helpless. He had only been able to stand there and watch as they drifted further and further apart. As Rukia hinged on her decision, and Ichigo forced himself to stay strong. The whole of Seireitei was talking about the circumstances. Yet, no one stopped to think about how agonizing it must be for the parties involved. Only Byakuya was witness to the painful truth.

 

He wished wholeheartedly that his sister would decide what she wanted to do for the sake of the family she had left waiting. It wasn't fair to any of them. A part of Byakuya couldn't stand to see Ichigo in his current state. It was a battle that simple Kurosaki recklessness could not conquer.

 

Byakuya knew that politeness demand he steer clear of the entire affair. Or that he should probably find some way to support both sides. One his sister, the other his brother-in-law. Both parties were hurting. Both needed him. But here he was, still inexplicably drawn to Ichigo's side. He couldn't help but feel caught in between, Zaraki's accusations jittering back and forth in his mind and his own confusing emotions trying to catch up.

 

He sipped at his tea, barely tasting the liquid, though he was sure it had to have been brewed perfectly. Rukia looked, plainly put, exhausted and stretched thin, probably even more strained than Ichigo. And he had four children to care for. Byakuya wasn't unaware of the rumors or the treatment she was suffering, which made him feel all the more guilty for having not even spoken to her yet.

 

A tired sigh broke Byakuya from his musings, and he looked up to see Ichigo enter the room, raking a hand over his hair. He flopped down to the cushions, taking a seat at the table in front of Byakuya. As if on cue, Sanji appeared, carrying a tray with another cup of tea for the master of the house.

 

“There you are,” Ichigo said and he thanked the cook with a strained, half-smile.

 

“Here, I am,” Byakuya answered and watched his friend over the rim of his cup. “Where are the children?”

 

The spoon clinked against the side as he stirred in sugar. “Tohru's watching over them,” he responded dismissively, tone leaden and thick. He stared at the warm liquid as he curled his fingers around the cup, examining the contents as though they held the answers Ichigo sought.

 

There was a moment of comfortable pause where Byakuya simply watched him before Ichigo finally lifted his gaze to the other man, looking both sad and weary.

 

“You need to talk to her.”

 

Byakuya blinked at the unexpected suggestion, which on retrospect, nearly sounded like an order. “What?”

 

“She's your sister,” Ichigo explained, pushing around his cup but not drinking it. “I'm grateful you're helping me, but she needs your support, too.”

 

The other captain didn't respond, lowering his gaze to the safety of the table. He knew that his best friend was right but had been struggling with admitting it to himself just moments before. It was almost as if Ichigo had known. Or perhaps he had just noticed the awkward atmosphere between Byakuya and his sister.

 

Ichigo continued, despite Byakuya's silence. “Probably more than I do. I know she thinks you're going to abandon her. You and the rest of the Kuchiki.”

 

A faint scowl decorated Ichigo's lips, clearly showing just how much he thought of the whole noble clan. It was the main reason he had turned down their offer of living in a manor within the Kuchiki grounds and anywhere near their influence. He preferred his own merits, his own money, and his own success. Ichigo didn't want to be the Kuchiki's lap dog or their figurehead.

 

Byakuya didn't blame him. He didn't much like it himself.

 

Byakuya nodded slowly, wondering why he couldn't just agree with Ichigo, why his heart wanted to lean towards his brother-in-law. “I will speak with her,” he reluctantly agreed.

 

Though inwardly, he dreaded it. What in Soul Society would he say?

 

The look on Ichigo's face, however, reflected his relief. And it caused that traitorous part of Byakuya to warm slightly. It had nothing to do with the tea either.

 

“Thank you,” Ichigo replied. “I don't want her to be entirely alone in this.”

 

Inclining his head, Byakuya made a noncommittal hum of agreement and returned his attention to the tea. Ichigo never noticed, his own thoughts a weighty distraction as he moodily contemplated his cup and the view from the dining room window. In the kitchen, beyond Sanji bustled around, likely preparing dinner.

 

He honestly hadn't spoken more than a greeting to Rukia since the whole incident came into the light. Perhaps he had been unconsciously avoiding her because he didn't have anything to say, didn't know what to say. He knew part of it was his anger towards her and what she had done. The rest, he wasn't entirely sure.

 

Ichigo wasn't the only one to request it either. The elders of the Kuchiki clan had also demanded that he speak with Rukia because, according to them, she was shaming their name. As if Byakuya cared about such things. The pride of the noble house of Kuchiki was the least important part of the entire debacle. Nevertheless, they had been pressuring him to do so.

 

Any further conversation the two captains was interrupted as the children came rushing into the room, trailed by their nanny. To be more precise, Kaien came barreling in, latching onto his father and nearly bowling him over. Syaoran entered at a more leisurely pace, making her way towards Byakuya.

 

“My apologies, Ichigo-san,” Tohru inserted as she joggled the weight of the twins in her arms. “They wanted to be with you.”

 

Kaien's fingers tugged on his father's sleeve to get his attention. “Tou-san, please spar with me,” he pleaded, looking up at Ichigo.

 

There was more gleaming in his eyes than just the desire to train, however, and even Byakuya could see it. He simply wanted to be close to the only stable thing left in his life. The visit with his mother must have affected him more strongly than he was willing to show. Trying to be stronger than he was, just like his father. It must be a Kurosaki trait.

 

Settling a hand on Kaien's hand, Ichigo looked up at the nanny. “It's fine, Tohru,” he assured her, ruffling black hair affectionately. “Do you think you can watch the twins for me?”

 

She nodded, giving the two little ones a fond look. “Without difficulty. They are no trouble at all.”

 

A presence at Byakuya's side announced Syaoran's arrival as she edged near him, standing at his right shoulder. Yet, her eyes were on her father and her brother, watching their exchange with interest and a hint of jealousy.

 

Byakuya set down his tea. “And you, hime, what are you in the mood for doing?” he asked.

 

She turned a beaming smile towards him, always flushing at her favorite nickname. “Yuzu-obaa-san gave me a game. Will you play it with me?” Lingering traces of jealousy faded in her rising excitement.

 

Across the table, Ichigo snorted. “Don't let her trick you with that cute smile, Byakuya,” he warned. “That game is scary.”

 

Byakuya blinked even as Syaoran giggled, her smile increasing. “Tou-chan doesn't like it,” she explained while Ichigo made a face at his daughter, prompting her to giggle again. “But Tohru plays with me all the time.”

 

Rising to his feet, Ichigo glanced between uncle and niece, a sly smirk creeping onto his lips. “Then again,” he amended, cocking his head to the side. “It might suit you, after all, Kuchiki-hime.”

 

Byakuya's brow furrowed. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded and squared his shoulders indignantly. Ichigo knew how much he hated that nickname in particular.

 

He was ignored, however, as the other captain ruffled his son's hair again. He also ignored the scowl of annoyance it produced as small hands shot up to protect his carefully styled spikes.

 

“Come on, squirt. Go get your bokken.”

 

“Un.”

 

Kaien scurried away and vanished from the kitchen in an instant. The pitter-patter of feet down the hall proved his direction to be towards his room, to retrieve the practice katana that had been given to him on his last birthday by Kaku-oji-san.

 

In his son's absence, Ichigo returned his attentions to the nanny. “If you need to leave, just bring the twins to me.”

 

She inclined her head. “Yes, Ichigo-san.”

 

He moved to her side, brushing his fingers over the twin's hair. The two little ones barely stirred, though Mikan squirmed impatiently. She tried to reach for him with a fist, likely intending to protest the mussing as he disturbed her ever important nap.

 

Ichigo chuckled at her behavior. “They'll probably be fine if you put them outside on a blanket on the grass. They can watch their brother spar.”

 

Tohru smiled warmly, displaying infinitely patience as she listened to Ichigo, ever the worrying father. “I know, Ichigo-san.” Her dark eyes tilted towards the twins. “They always behave, don't you?”

 

Mikan, as if knowing she was being spoken to, burbled up at the nanny. One foot kicked out, consequently striking Ryuunosuke. Her brother didn't seem to mind, just grunted and yawned as he settled back down for his nap.

 

Returning Tohru's smile with a half-hearted quirk of his own, Ichigo turned in the direction Kaien had taken. “Don't run with those!” he suddenly called out, hearing rapid footsteps on the floor. Though he was unable to see his son, he was certain that was exactly what the young boy was doing.

 

Byakuya, however, found it rather ironic. Ichigo ran around all the time with Zangetsu, waving it wildly. Not only was the zanpakutou a far more dangerous weapon, it was also heavier with a sharper point.

 

“Excuse me, Kuchiki-taichou.” With a faint bow, Tohru excused herself from the room, taking the twins with her.

 

With a lingering sip to his tea, Byakuya rose to his feet.

 

Syaoran's hand grabbed his, tangling their fingers together. “Will you play with me?” she asked hopefully, looking up at him.

 

Blinking out of his reverie, he gazed down at his niece, offering her a small smile. “Of course, my future heir, what is the game?”

 

She beamed up at him, tugging him out of the room without further preamble. “I think you'll have fun. It's called Pretty, Pretty Princess.”

 

Suddenly, Ichigo's reaction made a remarkable amount of sense. Byakuya inwardly vowed to make him pay for that joke. Yet, for the little girl desperately wanting something to cling to, he supposed he could do away with his pride. If only for a little while. That innocent smile did him in every time, much like a certain familiar, fierce scowl.

 

If anything, it would be a successful distraction from all the thoughts smacking against each other inside his head.

 

 

a/n: