Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ Ch 15 Confrontations (Part Two) ( Chapter 17 )

Of Violence

Chapter Fifteen: Confrontations (Part Two)

 

“Ichigo-san should be home soon.”

 

Byakuya didn't look up from where he was changing Mikan's diaper, the infant being of little help in the matter. “I would be surprised if he were,” the Kuchiki noble answered, deftly ignoring his niece's squirming and fixing the pin in place with deft motions.

 

It had been his idea to send Ayasegawa and Kyouraku after Ichigo, knowing that the fifth-division captain had been spending most of his time either at home or in his division. It wasn't doing him any good to separate from his friends and Byakuya thought that a night out with supervised drinking would do Ichigo a lot better than sitting at home and letting his thoughts run on circuits. Besides, it had been Ayasegawa's idea to begin with.

 

“You can leave if you need,” Byakuya added, tugging Mikan's clothing back around her and lifting the infant onto his shoulder.

 

She squirmed and made noises with her mouth.

 

“I can handle it until Ichigo gets home.”

 

Tohru inclined her head and treating him to a gentle smile. “If you insist, Byakuya-sama,” she replied. “Kaien and Syaoran are still in the playroom. Good evening.” With a shallow bow, she excused herself from the room.

 

Mikan waved a fist and giggled in her nanny's wake, as though saying goodbye herself. Byakuya looked at his niece, the energetic infant not looking like she was anywhere close to wanting sleep. Shaking his head, he gathered Mikan into his arms and carried her the short distance to the bed she shared with her brother.

 

Ryuunosuke was already asleep, face slack with the dreams of young ones. He didn't even twitch when his sister joined him, likely exhausted by the day's events, even if they hadn't been that strenuous. Sometimes, just dealing with Mikan's energy was exhausting. Byakuya entirely sympathized.

 

He tucked the infant in next to her twin and covered the both of them in the blanket. By the end of the night it would inevitably end up kicked to the end of the small crib, but it was the thought that counted, he supposed. Mikan burbled up at him and then rolled over, prodding her brother with one small fist. When Ryuu didn't stir, she decided she should sleep as well and yawned largely.

 

The innocence of children. If only all decisions were so easy.

 

Leaving the little ones to their rest, Byakuya grabbed the baby monitor - a gift from Yuzu if he recalled correctly, which had survived Syaoran and Kaien as infants - and left the room, flicking off the switch as he departed. No wailing sound of protest followed his exit, which he was glad to notice. Sometimes, the twins protested being left alone.

 

He padded down the hall, heading towards where he had left Syaoran and Kaien. The sound of rain floated to his ears, the patter of it striking the roof and the low rumbles of thunder in the distance. It appeared the soaking they had received earlier was not the extent of the storms heading their way.

 

The sound turned his thoughts towards Ichigo, prompting him to wonder if that was what it was like within his friend's inner world. The constant noise of rain striking the ground. The grumbling of the clouds and the gray clouds spreading forever above. He couldn't help but think of how fitting it was.

 

“It's mine.”

 

“No. You took it from me.”

 

“I did not.”

 

The sound of children arguing, though they were a good hall away, somehow found its way to Byakuya's ear with the perfect accuracy of one of Ishida-san's arrows. He quickened his pace and arrived at the door where he had left Ichigo's eldest offspring. Byakuya found the two of them glaring at each other, two steps away from a violent exchange of blows over some unidentified object. With all the other belongings spread about the room, it could have been anyone of them.

 

His presence was immediately noticed.

 

“Byakuya-oji-san, she won't let me--”

 

“It was mine to begin with.”

 

“No, it wasn't!”

 

He held up a hand, giving both children one of his patented glares. The one that he used on his subordinates in his division, clearly stating that if he heard one more word, punishment was in order. Immediately, both Kaien and Syaoran fell silent, though they were fidgeting with their desire to tell their own sides. Byakuya could pretty much guess what had happened, but it wasn't something he was interested in solving.

 

“Rather than argue, why don't you play a game with me?” he suggested and placed his hands on their upper backs, guiding them further into the room. “Something that will occupy all three of us.”

 

Kaien scowled, just like his father, and folded his arms. “I'm not playing Pretty Pretty Princess,” he announced, practically spitting each of the words.

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of a card or board game,” Byakuya replied as he bit back an even sharper retort. He was not going to get into an argument with a child. “Didn't Yuzu-oba-san give you one for your birthday?”

 

Ever one to feel superior, Syaoran nodded obediently. “She did. I don't think he's even opened it yet.” She tipped her head back in a move that Byakuya recognized; he hadn't even known she had picked it up. “He's more interested in playing with his sticks.”

 

“Bokken,” Kaien retorted, irritation beginning to well again. “They're called bokken, pest.”

 

“Enough,” Byakuya stated sharply, cutting off their potential argument with a firm look. Honestly, they hadn't been this bad until recently. “You're siblings. Not enemies.”

 

Though they glared at each other, a sort of apology was mumbled, and Byakuya accepted it as the most he could get. As an only child, he didn't understand something like sibling rivalry. The best he could equate it to was lower seats in a division, fighting for the same position. But he wasn't quite sure what Kaien and Syaoran were squabbling over.

 

“Kaien, please get your game.” He gently nudged the boy. “I'll set it up.”

 

Cowed, his nephew nodded and scampered off. Sighing softly inwardly, Byakuya lowered himself to the floor in the middle of a rug. There would be ample room to play there. Syaoran immediately perched at his side.

 

Kaien returned less than a minute later, and Byakuya suspected he had been running through the house again. But he shook off the thought as he noticed that the rain above them had deepened into an all out storm. Flashes of light from beyond the window were plainly visible, and the low rumbles of thunder passed directly over the house. It was only a mild storm, so Byakuya wasn't concerned. He did keep the baby monitor close by, however, just in case the grumbles were loud enough to wake the twins.

 

Unwilling to hear more arguing, he handed out Kaien and Syaoran their own pieces and choose one for himself. In this manner, they passed the time. And before long, the two siblings were actually enjoying themselves, rather than arguing. Thank kami.

 

“I should have known.”

 

Ichigo's voice disturbed their game, Byakuya looking up with some surprise. He hadn't even felt the other man arrive. Ichigo was standing in the doorway, clothes slightly damp from the lessening storm outside. The look on his face was a mixture of exasperation and faint irritation. One that was directed at an individual not present. Which probably meant that the trip to the bar had not gone as well as Byakuya had hoped.

 

More than the annoyance, however, was the fatigue that was prevalent. Dark circles ringed Ichigo's eyes and his shoulders carried a sense of weariness. His reiatsu, usually thrumming with the extent of his power, pulsed weakly. As if he hadn't slept decently in weeks. Which given the situation, Byakuya wouldn't completely disregard.

 

“Tou-chan!” Syaoran's happy chirp was the first to respond to Ichigo's statement, the little girl rising to her feet as he entered the room. She was immediately swept up into his arms and hugged him tight. Only to pull back and wrinkle her nose.

 

“You smell like smoke,” she complained.

 

“I know,” he responded, wrinkling his nose with her. “Shun-ojii-san forced me to hang out with him.”

 

Idly listening, Byakuya gathered up the remnants of their game, which had been completely forgotten in their father's arrival. Nearby, Kaien rolled his eyes and stood slowly, looking up.

 

“Should have known what?” he asked, all innocence and nonchalance.

 

Shoving the last of the pieces in the box, Byakuya wasn't surprised to feel the famous Kurosaki scowl glowering his direction. “It's not proper to say in front of young ears,” he nearly growled, though it carried a faint hint of teasing.

 

Ichigo switched Syaoran's weight around to his hip, his daughter surprisingly unwilling to be put down.

 

Kaien was dissatisfied with his father's answer; he crossed his arms and tried to imitate Ichigo. “You're late,” he announced, his tone carrying a hint of reproach that made even Byakuya blink in surprise.

 

Lifting a brow, Ichigo stepped across the floor and placed a hand on Kaien's head. “Sorry,” he murmured, tipping his head to the side as his fingers pressed against his son's damp hair. “You've bathed already?”

 

Byakuya sighed at the question as Kaien fidgeted, looking as though he were expecting to be punished. “Yes. He had the brilliant idea of playing in the rain. And dragging Syaoran out with him.”

 

Brown eyes shifted to focus on his son, who dropped his hands to fidget with his obi. “I was inside all day,” he mumbled, very close to whining. “I wanted to go outside.”

 

“He really needs an outlet,” Byakuya added and turned back towards the mess the three of them had made. He began to shift it all into piles that wouldn't be tripped over by an unlucky visitor, not that they had those in droves, before one of the housekeepers could clean. It was a distraction, he realized, something to keep him from looking too deeply at Ichigo and occupying his hands.

 

“Yeah, I know,” the younger man responded, raking a hand through his hair in a tired motion. “I haven't exactly had the chance to look into it though.”

 

At the mere suggestion, Kaien immediately piped up with his own idea. “I could go to a dojo,” he hinted eagerly. “Jyuu-ojii-san said that he knows some good ones.”

 

Though weary, Ichigo managed a smile for his son's enthusiasm. “We'll see. It depends on how well you behave yourself.”

 

For a moment, Kaien looked as if he were going to argue, his gaze shifting between his father and his uncle. “I'm always behaved.” He tapped his own chest demonstratively.

 

“Not one bit,” Syaoran challenged in a lofty tone. Though her gaze was focused on her brother, she was clinging to Ichigo's shihakushou, her head on his shoulder.

 

Ichigo frowned and lifted a hand, palm pressed to her forehead. “You sound a little congested, sweetie,” he remarked and ignored Kaien's retaliation by sticking out his tongue.

 

She did feel a bit warm to the touch. But then again, it was a bit humid. There was also the likelihood that she had just emerged from the bath not too long ago, if the faint ringlets of moisture were any indication.

 

Syaoran immediately squirmed. “I'm fine, tou-chan. You're just imagining things.”

 

Disbelieving brown eyes looked her over once more. Syaoran had the tendency to be just like her uncle. She didn't like people fussing over her and oftentimes preferred to be left alone. A good night's rest in a warm bed was probably all she needed. Ichigo knew from experience that children tended to get sick all the time, usually with nothing that was too terrible. Helping his father had taught him that.

 

“If you say so,” Ichigo replied skeptically. “But just in case, you'll go to bed a little early tonight, okay?”

 

On the verge of complaining, Syaoran was interrupted by a poorly timed yawn and conceded to her father's suggestion. “Hai.”

 

Smiling, Ichigo lowered Syaoran back to the floor, smoothing back her hair with one hand. “Good.”

 

“What about me?” Kaien asked, bounding forward with the type of energy only children could contain. “I don't have to go to bed early, do I?”

 

Byakuya could just see the fight beginning to brew, Syaoran's eyes narrowing at her brother's obvious jab and attempted display of superiority. He could even see her beginning to draw up straight and bristle, a cold aura surrounding her. Kaien was acting far too smug for her liking.

 

He quickly stepped in to put what was becoming a more common occurrence to a complete halt. “I think we can amuse ourselves while tou-san takes a bath,” Byakuya announced, patting both children on the back and ushering them with gentle pushes out of the room.

 

Steps followed after him. “You don't have to do that,” Ichigo said, but the effect was lost when the last word trailed off on the end of a yawn.

 

Grey eyes glanced once over his shoulder, narrowing in disapproval. “You haven't even removed Zangetsu yet, Ichigo. I think I can handle them just fine.”

 

The fifth-division captain blinked at the commanding tone, probably not unlike what Byakuya used with his subordinates. He lifted a hand in a dismissive wave as he turned around, towards the opposite direction.

 

“Have it your way,” Ichigo called back as he disappeared down the hall, shaking his head in amusement.

 

Byakuya planned to do just that. He directed the children into their rooms, keeping careful track of the monitor always at his side. But there had been no peep from the twins.

 

He wrestled Kaien and Syaoran into their nemaki, the latter easier than the former, and let each select one story to read. Plopped down on the floor in Kaien's room, they read the books together, Byakuya letting them pick out words they knew and work on the ones they didn't. Syaoran crawled into his lap, and he couldn't help but notice that she had been unusually clingy lately. Perhaps it was due to the absence of her mother.

 

He felt Senbonzakura stir in the back of his mind as he read, her words echoing to him when he least wanted them to. `They are not your children, dear heart. They are hers.'

 

As if he needed the reminder.

 

But he was only doing as an uncle should. As a brother-in-law should. Helping Ichigo and caring for the children were his duties.

 

`Then why aren't ya with Rukia?' Zaraki's voice slithered into his mind, for once not repeating the same tired statement Byakuya had grown used to hearing.

 

He had an answer for that, too. Ichigo needed him more. What could he do for Rukia but sit with her, talk with her? He couldn't make the scandal, for lack of a better word, disappear. He couldn't heal the wounds. But Ichigo had only one set of hands and four children. He still had a job to do and a house to look after. He couldn't do it by himself forever.

 

Syaoran yawned in his lap, stirring him from his thoughts. It was probably the third time she had done so in the last ten minutes.

 

“Time for bed, hime,” he announced.

 

Too tired to argue, Syaoran simply nodded and stood, giving Byakuya room to rise as well. He handed Kaien the book, which was the one he had picked out, and left it open to the page they had paused upon.

 

“Try and pick out a few more words,” Byakuya suggested, taking Syaoran's hand. “I'll be right back.”

 

“Yes, oji-san.”

 

Satisfied that he would be obeyed, he took Syaoran into her room and tucked her into bed. She was so weary she tumbled into it with little of her natural grace and was yawning again by the time he finished pulling the blankets over her.

 

“I want tou-chan to say goodnight,” Syaoran mumbled on the cusp of sleep. Her eyes were already shuttered closed.

 

“I'll send him in as soon as he's done,” Byakuya promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 

Ichigo was right. She did feel a bit warm.

 

Syaoran nodded sleepily. “Night, Byakuya-oji-san.”

 

“Goodnight, hime.”

 

The only sound he received was that of her even breathing. Smiling faintly to himself, he waved his hand to cancel the light and stepped quietly out of the room. He paused by the twin's bedroom, but they hadn't so much as stirred. And his senses caught Ichigo towards the back of the house, still taking a bath. Convinced that all was well, Byakuya returned to Kaien's room.

 

His nephew was still sitting on the floor, book perched on his legs. He looked deep in thought as Byakuya entered.

 

“A difficult word?” the Kuchiki noble queried aloud, noticing that Kaien's forehead was crunched with deep thought.

 

Kaien shook his head negatively. It was then that Byakuya realized that he hadn't so much as even turned the page, despite the fact he read this book well enough to have at least done that much. Whatever had caused him pause had nothing to do with the story.

 

“Something wrong, Kaien?”

 

The boy's hands curled around the hard cover of the book, gripping it tightly. There was a moment of reflective silence before Kaien softly and hesitatingly broke it.

 

“Do you think it's my fault?”

 

Understanding washed over the Kuchiki heir. Steeling himself for what was likely going to be a difficult conversation, he lowered himself down next to Kaien. Deft fingers carefully plucked the book from his grasp, closing it and setting it aside. Big blue eyes, reflections of his mother's, looked at him so sadly. That same gaze as before, asking and begging for answers.

 

“Did your tou-san say that?” Byakuya asked gently, wondering how in Hueco Mundo he was supposed to discuss this sort of delicate situation. Or even handle it.

 

The boy dropped his eyes. “No, but... adults aren't supposed to say stuff like that either. And I know tou-san wouldn't say that.”

 

What intelligence. Kaien was surprising him more and more each day. Byakuya knew that technically it was Kaien's fault. His words had started the whole debacle in motion. But he couldn't tell the young boy that; otherwise, he would punish himself for it.

 

Even more truthfully, however, the true blame rested with his parents, who had let this go on for so long without attempting to do something about it. Who had let it get to the point that their children were witnesses and eventually had questions. And then, Byakuya himself was equally to blame for bringing it to the attention of his mentor, which inadvertently gave the issue a public face. He couldn't tell the boy that. It would be like blaming Ichigo for the entire Aizen affair since it was his taking Rukia's powers that had started everything.

 

“And I started it because I talked to you, and--”

 

“Kaien,” he interrupted, voice was firm enough that it gathered the boy's attention. “Sometimes…” Byakuya trailed off, hesitating as he searched for the words. “Sometimes, things happen because they must, and there is nothing we can do to change them. No matter how much we wish to.”

 

He looked down at the ground, little body trembling. “I want her to come back. I miss her.” He paused and then added, “And Syaoran and the twins do, too.” Another painfully loud pause. “And I know tou-chan does.”

 

He slipped into “tou-chan” there for a moment, Byakuya noticed. It was rather endearing, proving that Kaien was still just a child. The boy ever so subtly inched closer, and Byakuya took that as permission of acceptance for comfort. His nephew didn't cry, probably because he didn't consider it manly to do so.

 

“I am sorry, little bird,” Byakuya murmured and rubbed gentle fingers over his nephew's back. And it was all he could say.

 

He was as much of a failure at comforting now as he had been for Ichigo. He couldn't lie and say everything was going to be alright because it wasn't. Rukia wasn't coming back to live with them. Nothing was going to be as it had before. Nor could Byakuya say that. It wasn't his place to tell Ichigo's children what their parents had mutually decided.

 

He could only hold Kaien and be there. It was all he was capable of doing.

 

A sound in the doorway, several minutes later, brought Ichigo's return to Byakuya's attention. He looked up, finding a frown decorating the older man's lips. His gaze was flickering between his son and his friend, a question evident. Byakuya returned his look with a promise to discuss it later. He knew that Ichigo's senses, both spiritual and father alike, were too strong to not realize that Kaien was upset.

 

He stepped into the room. “Syaoran's already gone to bed?”

 

Byakuya nodded, Kaien taking the opportunity to appear as if nothing was wrong, even flipping a few pages in the book. “She seemed tired. And you were right, she was rather warm.”

 

He found himself carefully lowering his gaze, something about Ichigo's current attire demanding that he did so. It wasn't anything dramatic. An ankle-length nemaki belted tightly and a towel draped over his head, but for some reason, it seemed inappropriate. The freshly scrubbed look was one that suited Ichigo, and Byakuya knew that it was his ruination that he even noticed.

 

In all fairness, Ichigo was an attractive man. There was little doubt of that. Byakuya understood that as much as he understood that people found him attractive as well. He could admit to himself when other males around him were good-looking. His senpai, for example, had the grace and hair that many women envied. And Renji, he supposed, had that rugged appearance that others found appealing. Not to mention the other good-looking males that seemed to be prevalent in the upper echelons of the Gotei 13.

 

Therefore, it stood to reason, that he would notice how attractive his brother-in-law was. In a purely aesthetic manner, of course. But this… this noticing went far beyond casual comparisons or understanding of appeal. This was something personal, and he was finally starting to realize it. Had he been doing this all along?

 

“It's getting pretty late,” Ichigo commented, dragging a mortified Byakuya from his internal thoughts. He was still scrubbing the towel over his hair, trying to get every last drop. “You can stay in the guest room, if you want. I know it's still pretty wet out there.”

 

Byakuya paused, the offer perfectly normal but somehow sending a strange shock through him. It was proper manners, after all. Yet, considering the situation and Rukia and the rumors, it somehow sounded suspicious. Not to himself, but he could just imagine the rumor mill. Could just hear Zaraki's snickering in the back of his mind.

 

He carefully shook his head. “Thank you, but no,” he replied and carefully kept any unnecessary inflection from his voice. “I have things that I must do at the manor.”

 

Ichigo seemed to accept this excuse with no evidence of disbelief. He simply shrugged.

 

“Just thought I'd ask.” Dropping the towel down around his shoulders, Ichigo raked a hand through disarrayed and damp strands. “Come on, squirt. Time for bed.”

 

Rather than argue, as both adults had half-expected, Kaien nodded obediently. Likely subdued by his conversation with his uncle. Byakuya closed the book and set it to the side, rising to his feet.

 

“Goodnight, Kaien,” he murmured, patting the boy on the head. He knew that Kaien wouldn't be as accepting of the affection as Syaoran.

 

“Night, oji-san. Thanks.”

 

Letting Ichigo tuck his son into bed, Byakuya politely excused himself from the room and paused in the hall. He wasn't going to simply leave as that would be impolite, so he waited in the corridor. He could hear the low murmur of their voices but didn't listen, too absorbed with his own thoughts.

 

It wasn't the first time he had seen Ichigo fresh out of the bath or shower. Hell, during the war, he'd seen Ichigo barely wearing anything but bits of cloth and the tattered remnants of his shihakushou. Covered in blood and standing by sheer will power alone, fingers gripped tightly to Zangetsu's hilt. Determined to fight again, despite winning several battles by himself already.

 

Byakuya shook his head, forcing himself out of the past and into the present. Where nothing really made sense anymore. Where the mere sight of his best friend and brother-in-law in a long robe made something inside of him squirm. And he hadn't even bared anything.

 

It was ridiculous.

 

If he were anyone else, Byakuya would be blushing.

 

“Goodnight, Kaien,” floated to his ears as Ichigo stepped out of the room behind Byakuya. He pulled the door shut behind him, and grey eyes met brown. Ichigo gestured silently down the hallway, encouraging Byakuya to precede him. “What was wrong with Kaien?” he asked quietly as they started down the corridor and headed for the main door. The furrows on his brow deepened in his concern.

 

Byakuya sighed and patted down his hakama, straightening wrinkles that weren't present. “You need to talk to he and Syaoran about their mother. Especially what you have decided to do.”

 

Ichigo's fingers rubbed across his forehead. “I know,” he said wearily. “It's just... not easy to say. I'm not ready to disappoint them like that.”

 

“He still blames himself for it.”

 

“Well, technically...”

 

Byakuya gave him an exasperated look. “You can't tell him that.”

 

“Again, something that I already know.” He paused, frustration stealing into his features. “I want it to be a good time, but that's pretty much impossible. I don't want to be the villain, but I don't want them to hate her either. I just don't know what to say that won't hurt them.”

 

The Kuchiki noble took a breath, choosing his words carefully. “No matter how you phrase it, they will be upset, Ichigo. And the longer you wait, it will only be worse.”

 

A defeated bluster of air escaped Ichigo's mouth, lips set tightly. It tugged something inside of Byakuya, that look of near hopelessness. It was an expression he didn't think he would ever see on the face of the unbeatable and determined Kurosaki Ichigo.

 

“You're right,” he muttered, nearly sounding like a sulking Kaien in that moment. “Just like always.”

 

For once, Byakuya didn't have it in him to be smug. There were some things he preferred to be wrong about. They approached the door in that moment, Byakuya busying himself with sliding his feet out of his house shoes and into his waraji. He didn't relish walking in them in the rain, but there really was no other choice. Not even a burst of shunpo could prevent him from getting wet.

 

“Byakuya?”

 

He looked up, pausing in the midst of tightening the straps. “Yes?”

 

A faint smile tugged at Ichigo's lips. “Thanks for looking after them.”

 

The honesty and appreciation in brown eyes seemed to bore right through him and Byakuya had no choice but to look away. It was all too easy to fall into those eyes, a trap he had only come to notice recently.

 

One hand dug into his pocket, pulling out the baby monitor that he had nearly taken home with him. This he handed over to Ichigo as he responded to the other captain's gratitude.

 

“I seem to remember having this conversation before,” he said if only to have something to say. “But you are welcome anyway. And Syaoran asked for you to see her. She's probably asleep now but check just in case.”

 

Ichigo inclined his head, glancing once at the monitor before dropping it in a pocket on his robe. “I should probably check her temperature again. Make sure she's not running a fever.”

 

“That is a good idea.” Byakuya turned and prepared to leave as though he had great urgency to escape when a certain memory tugged at the back of his brain. “And don't forget about dinner this weekend. Jyuushiro and Izuru have already asked to babysit.” He relaxed once he steered the conversation back to more comfortable territory.

 

At least, territory that wasn't heightened by the close proximity of their positions. The semi-darkness of the hallway and the faint sound of a soft rain falling outside. The light scent of Ichigo's soap, whatever it was he used that made him smell clean and crisp, and those damn eyes that said so much without saying anything at all.

 

Zaraki cackled in the back of Byakuya's mind, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was even any escape for him. Or had he already succumbed to something he refused to admit to himself?

 

“Byakuya?”

 

He blinked, not even realizing that he had trailed off in the middle of his thoughts. Byakuya shook his head and finished the ties to his sandals.

 

“I know that it is Sanji's weekend off. This way, the children won't have to suffer your cooking.”

 

Ichigo arched one brow, though his face still held some confusion. “It's not that bad,” he protested, folding his arms over his chest.

 

The full effect of a Kuchiki's doubtful stare was turned his direction. It spoke all that Byakuya needed.

 

“It's edible,” Ichigo insisted.

 

Byakuya's look didn't fade.

 

The other captain snorted and rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “We'll be there. Even if, technically, you aren't the one doing the cooking.” A quick glance showed that Byakuya was ready to go, and Ichigo pulled the door open, a wash of damp air rushing in to greet him.

 

It was still raining outside, though the downpour had softened to a steady faint drizzle. And it wasn't beyond impossible for the great and powerful Kuchiki Byakuya to catch a cold. Swiping up one of his umbrellas, Ichigo offered it to the other man. Surprisingly enough, he took the object without argument and stepped outside, immediately snapping open the plain, black umbrella.

 

“See you at the captain's meeting tomorrow,” Ichigo called out after him as Byakuya started down the path, frowning at the splashes his feet were making.

 

“If you can manage to make it on time,” Byakuya returned and glanced only once over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Ichigo.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

He watched Byakuya go with a mixture of feelings, all warring inside of him for dominance. A part of him was glad that Byakuya had turned down the use of the guest room. Since suddenly, with Rukia's opinion and the rumors, it seemed suspicious. He found himself analyzing everything he did, every move he made, as if to pinpoint just what had given them away to everyone else. What was so questionable, so telling?

 

Ichigo felt guilty for those thoughts. Byakuya was his friend above all else. And also his brother-in-law. And yet, he couldn't entirely deny his own wife's accusations and his own soul's - Zangetsu's - insinuations. As Rukia had said, something was there. Something that turned warm and calming whenever he was in Byakuya's presence.

 

Something that was simply there without asking, that was easy to fall into and impossible to climb out of. That crept in when he wasn't looking, curled around his heart, and clutched tightly. That made him notice all the little things and made the ache of Rukia leaving hurt just a little else. It didn't stop the pain but eased his suffering of it.

 

And it had all happened without his consent, without even trying. Effortless and so, so simple. He must have been an idiot to not see it all along. Everyone in Soul Society had noticed, had considered themselves part of some secret that the major players were oblivious to.

 

And even his wife!

 

Ichigo couldn't help but feel he had betrayed her. It was an inadvertent betrayal, not even a conscious decision but a betrayal nevertheless. No wonder she had been so frustrated. He wondered how much of her pain was a part of his fault?

 

Sighing to himself, Ichigo finally turned away from the door and shut it behind him, lifting his towel back onto his head. He rubbed the fabric over his still damp hair, mind running in endless circles.

 

He wondered why nothing in his life could ever go simply. Seeing ghosts as a teenager somehow managed to change his entire life in one fell swoop. Trying to help a friend had saddled him with a constant pale tagalong. His marriage to the woman he had once loved and still very much did was in shambles. And all he had ever done was the right thing. Where was the justice in that?

 

On the verge of setting himself to brooding again, which meant another night spent sitting on the porch and staring at the moon rather than sleeping, Ichigo promptly forced himself to simply not think. He had to check on Syaoran and the twins, had to make sure Kaien was alright. Had to plan for that unfortunate conversation and wonder what was going to be discussed at the weekly meeting tomorrow.

 

It wasn't until later that night, much later, when time had just barely crossed into early, pre-dawn, that he allowed himself to remember. To think of the past and the things that had been obvious to everyone else and yet invisible to him. He could see it now, if he looked or recalled. Could see what had convinced everyone else.

 

It wasn't surprising that he didn't get any sleep that night.

 

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