Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Of Violence ❯ Chapter 21: Burdens ( Chapter 23 )

Of Violence

Chapter Twenty-One: Burdens

 

“You know, I'm surprised the sixth division hasn't completely crumbled, too,” Ichigo murmured wonderingly, the statement directed at his visitor.

 

He wasn't exactly looking at Byakuya, more like pretending to go over the massive stack of documents that had built up in his extended absence. One hand propped his head on his desk, the other fiddled with a dry brush, which hadn't managed to dip into ink in the past few hours he had been sitting in his office. Ichigo knew that he was supposed to be doing his work, that he needed to be doing his work but couldn't seem to dredge up the wherewithal to do so.

 

Paperwork was good because it was mindless, empty, and required little brain function. But that was also its downfall because it allowed him time to think, to reflect on the empty feeling still echoing in his heart. While Rukia's loss was being balanced by the support he received from family and friends - and Byakuya more notably - he still couldn't shake the sorrow.

 

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the Kuchiki noble lifting one brow. “Rikichi is more than adequate at handling matters in my absence,” he replied, hands actually busy doing a nice-sized stack of Ichigo's paperwork. “Which is something more than I could have said for Renji.”

 

Ichigo snorted and gave up on pretending. Instead, he rolled his eyes towards Byakuya, watching the noble quietly do some of his work for him. It was true that Byakuya spent less time in his division recently, but Rikichi didn't complain, just like Yumichika. In fact, he almost seemed to encourage it with a sneaky sort of smile on his face that made Ichigo think his own vice-captain had had a little talk with the younger man. Yumichika's manipulations showing through, he supposed.

 

Still, he couldn't continue to dump everything on Yumichika. Ichigo knew that he had to pull himself together. He'd spent a lot of time restoring the fifth division, putting all his effort into weeding out the remnants of Aizen's leadership. And despite all the menial documents and meddling of the upper echelons, he liked being a captain. He wanted to do a good job by his subordinates. Which meant no more skipping out for his personal problems, even if everyone understood.

 

Which reminded him...

 

“Hey, Byakuya?”

 

His hands didn't once pause in flicking through the papers, even though Ichigo had given him the more boring ones just because he could. “Hmm?”

 

“I have to clean out Rukia's apartment,” he said quietly, surprising himself with how he managed to say his wife's name without the painful clench that usually accompanied it. “Are you free on Saturday?”

 

The brush stopped in its movement, and Byakuya lifted his gaze. “I will be in the afternoon, yes,” he answered, a look of almost surprise on his face. Grey eyes searched Ichigo's expression, but the other captain was being purposefully evasive.

 

“Good.” Ichigo took a deep breath, gaze sliding to the window and autumn that was swiftly descending beyond it. “I'll need some help, if you don't mind.”

 

There was just an edge of hesitance to his voice, but he wondered if Byakuya even noticed it at all. He didn't much like asking for help, but he could also recognize when it was necessary. And no matter how much Ichigo wanted to be able to do it on his own, he knew that he couldn't.

 

“Of course I don't,” Byakuya answered with no hesitation on his part. They'd had this discussion before, after all. “Will Tohru look after the children?”

 

Ichigo nodded and finally resorted to working on his paperwork, noting that Byakuya had also returned to filling out his own stack. “Just the twins though. I thought that seeing Kaien and Syaoran might be good for Jyuushiro.”

 

The Kuchiki noble made a noise of agreement, though it sounded just as tired of sorrow as Ichigo felt. “You may be right,” he replied, penning the last line with a flick of his wrist and placing the paper on the rest of the stack. He was nearly finished. “Kira-san is worried about him.”

 

“I am, too.”

 

A week. Barely a week had passed since Rukia's death and still her loss could be felt heavily in the Gotei-13. Luckily, there were no pressing matters that needed attending since several of the captains were out of commission for days afterward.

 

The matter of the strange Hollow had been solved thanks to what Rukia had discovered, the second division able to track them back to their nest and eradicate every last one. It seemed that Akon had discovered that although they were able to make their reiatsu vanish, they still left small signatures behind that the Shinigami were able to follow. Much like a dog following a scent.

 

Her death had not been in vain, but that made it no easier to bear. Ichigo's children still cried themselves to sleep when they thought no one was listening. Kaien had pulled into himself even more than before, hiding behind a sulking wall. Syaoran clung to the nearest adult at every opportunity. His house was noticeably quieter, and that bothered Ichigo more than anything.

 

He could handle his own pain to a certain agree. Could lock it down if necessary or find an outlet. But seeing it in his children made him feel even more a failure than before. As if he really couldn't protect them, no matter how much he tried.

 

“You can't protect them from everything,” Isshin had told him.

 

He could see the logic in that statement, could understand what his father was saying. But that didn't mean Ichigo didn't try his damnedest. Children were meant to be happy, to smile, to be spoiled. They weren't meant to suffer the loss of a parent and especially not so soon after other troubles.

 

And as for his pain, it would have been a lot worse if he didn't have the support of others around him. While Orihime had her hands full with Renji who regarded Rukia's loss as that of a sibling, she still found time to offer Ichigo consolation. And Byakuya was never far from his side, a constant presence as they shared their grief. Thanks to that, Ichigo wasn't drowning in his heartache.

 

Jyuushiro suffered in his own way as well. He had lost his cherished vice-captain for the second time, as well as a woman he had taken under his wing. Like an even more precious daughter. Someone he had watched blossom under his tutelage from a shy, withdrawn fledgling to a strong and dependable vice-captain.

 

With a sigh, Byakuya finished the last of his stack and pushed it to the side, his part of the paperwork completed. “It will be difficult, but I'm sure Jyuushiro will recover. He has plenty of support, after all.”

 

Ichigo made a noncommittal sound in his throat and returned to staring at his paperwork. Requisitions and patrol records and a reminder that it was time to create the new schedule stared back at him. Picking up his brush, he reluctantly started signing his name to the supply requests, while Byakuya began to serve the tea that had been patiently waiting for them the background. The sound of pottery and liquid was a familiar and soothing noise.

 

Not unexpectedly, Ichigo found his thoughts wandering. It was easy for them to do so when all he was doing was penning his name on a line and moving on to the next sheet. His eyes momentarily flickered to Byakuya, enjoying his first sip of the tea, before obediently returning to his paperwork.

 

He realized that they hadn't had their official talk yet. The one that stated what they planned from each other, what they wanted, and what they were going to do about it. Yet, they had been gradually becoming more comfortable around one another again. The initial hesitancy once the truth had emerged was beginning to fade around the edges.

 

He could remember, with a faint darkening of his cheeks, holding Byakuya and sharing a bed. His arms recalled the warmth that the noble had exuded, and the scent of cherry blossoms that Byakuya seemed to be bathed in. He remembered the contradictory feelings of wanting to kiss Byakuya and knowing he shouldn't. But most of all, he remembered the feeling of comfort he had attained in the other man's presence. He had just lost his wife, suffered his children's pain, but he felt he could make it. That he was being strengthened by his brother-in-law's presence.

 

He knew that a part of him should probably feel guilty. That others might see it as him replacing Rukia all too quickly. But he could never do that, replace her in his heart. She held a special place, and nothing would ever usurp her. Yet, Byakuya had his own place as well, and Ichigo could no more cast him aside then he could toss away his feelings for his former wife.

 

Ichigo couldn't do this alone. Raise his children and take care of himself, hold himself together. He wanted Byakuya in his life, he realized. Even more so than the supporting character he had been. He wanted Byakuya next to him, sharing everything.

 

“Ichigo-kun,” Yumichika called out as he bustled into the room, through the doorway that Ichigo had left open on purpose since he still wanted to encourage his subordinates to be friendly. The vice-captain's abrupt entrance disturbed Ichigo's thoughts suddenly, sending him scrambling from his memories.

 

“I've brought today's mail,” he explained cheerily, arms laden with documents and folded envelopes.

 

“And here I thought it was more paperwork,” Ichigo faintly grumbled in response and reached up to take the stack of parchment. He would leave the rest of his realizations for later, as they were putting a color to his face that was quite revealing.

 

His grumbling was ignored as Yumichika turned to sparkle in Byakuya's direction. “Good afternoon, Kuchiki-taichou. How is your division today?”

 

“If that is what you call a subtle way of reminding me of my own duties, you failed,” Byakuya responded dryly. “And it is running fine, thank you.”

 

Yumichika merely smiled, dumping the rest of his captain's mail on Ichigo's desk in a heap. “Just looking out for Rikichi-kun,” the vice-captain responded. “But I'm sure he can handle it.”

 

Lifting a brow as he began sifting through the stacks of what appeared to be mostly letters, Ichigo shook his head. “No harassing your commanding officers, Yumichika,” he warned, though it was clearly obvious he was teasing. It was a game they had played before.

 

Purple eyes cast a penetrating gaze over both men. “Just a little reminder, taichou,” he responded as he straightened, task completed. “No provocation in mind.”

 

Ichigo gave a little dismissive wave, the heaviness weighing him down inside lifting with such familiar banter.

 

The look that Yumichika cast on Byakuya was nearly predatory. “Though if I had such a distraction in my office, I doubt I would be able to complete any of my work either,” he purred in his captain's direction, his meaning quite obvious.

 

Eyes widening in surprise, Ichigo felt a heat steal into his cheeks. “Yumichika,” he hissed, hand slapping down on his paperwork to cover his shock. “Don't you have something you need to be doing?”

 

Chuckling to himself, Yumichika merely winked at Byakuya, who was suffering from his own mortification. “Now that I think about it, there were some requests I needed to screen before sending them your way. I'll just get right on that, taichou.”

 

As Yumichika flittered his way out the door, both captain's watched his exit with varying levels of amusement. Byakuya calmly sipped his tea, musing into the warm liquid. “He would make a fine captain one day,” he murmured.

 

Ichigo sighed and put aside important documents that needed to be signed and a letter from his sisters that he would take home and read. “Don't say that. Then, I'll be forced to find another vice-captain and convincing him to leave Zaraki was difficult enough.”

 

A small smile tugged at Byakuya's lips at the thought. He sipped at his tea, well remembering Ichigo's frustration in finding a suitable vice-captain and his victory in acquiring Yumichika. It hadn't been easy to drag the fifth-seat from his place in the eleventh division, but with Kurosaki stubbornness, Ichigo had succeeded.

 

“What is this?”

 

The strange note in Ichigo's voice drew Byakuya's attention back towards his brother-in-law. He was surprised to find the easygoing expression wiped from Ichigo's face, instead replaced by a deeply furrowed brow of confusion with aggravation threatening to seep back into it. Dropping his sight, Byakuya found that Ichigo was glaring at the stack of envelopes, the first of them opened and between his hands. A vaguely familiar symbol was cracked down the middle where Ichigo had broken open the seam.

 

He tipped his head to the side. “Ichigo?”

 

“I can't believe this,” he hissed angrily, suddenly crumpling the paper with his fingers and tossing it in the direction of the wastebasket. Instead it pinged off the wall and fell to the floor.

 

Recognition dawned on the Kuchiki noble, who had seen far too many of that particular symbol in the past ten years or so. They represented the Higurashi, a relatively low-ranked clan of nobles who specialized in marriage proposals, most often between high-ranked families. And recently, the Kuchiki had been one of their biggest clients, despite Byakuya's firm refusal to attend any of the meetings.

 

“Ichigo?”

 

His query was distinctly ignored as Ichigo shot to his feet, rattling the desk with the bottom of his knees on his way up. “They can't possibly believe this is what I want,” he snarled at no one in particular and glared ocular fire at the remaining piles of parchment on his desk, all unopened letters. “Rukia's only in the ground for a few days, and my inbox is full of these? Have they no shame?”

 

Byakuya could only watch as Ichigo seethed, his reiatsu slamming against the walls and rattling paintings and pictures in their frames. The items on his desk shuddered warningly, many planning on making suicidal dives for the floor. The noise was enough to make Ichigo realize just what was happening, and he forcefully clamped down on his reiatsu, dragging it back into his control. Shirosaki boiled within him.

 

But every time he saw the stacks of white, carefully folded paper on his desk, it awoke again. Twisting his jaw, Ichigo began to pace, taking great pains not to look at his desktop and wishing that the damned things would mysteriously disappear. It was insulting; it was infuriating. Not just for himself but for Rukia as well. He could not replace her like that, not so easily and not so quickly.

 

Oh, they were not so callous to outright ask him for marriage. But Ichigo, who had learned to play a good bit of the Kuchiki politics, knew what their cautiously crafted invitations were. Offers of a light lunch or something similar were pre-courting rituals. The single women of high rank couldn't wait to sink their claws into him. He wasn't going to suffer any of it. Hell, he wasn't even going to bother with a polite refusal.

 

Sitting in silence, Byakuya watched as Ichigo fumed, mind locked in its furious cage. He realized that it was probably best if he kept his silence for the moment, not that he really had the words to say. Instead, he inched backwards a step and very quietly reached to slide the door shut. Ichigo didn't even notice the motion, too locked in a fury that was strengthened by the confusing tumult of emotions he had been laboring under for the past week.

 

Ichigo for his part found the small space within his office insufficient for his pacing. He paused in the middle of his rant and stared hatefully at the stack on his desk. Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed the pile into his arms, probably grabbing other important documents as well, and dumped it all into the trashcan. If the damn paperwork was that necessary, it would be sent again when it wasn't returned on time.

 

“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath, feeling no satisfaction as he watched the envelopes - colored and plain alike - drop into the wastebasket. His hands balled into useless fists at his side.

 

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Nothing was really. He had done everything like he was supposed to. He had saved the world, though with the help of many others admittedly. He had married the woman he loved. He made his decisions concerning his life and had children. He became an adult. He did everything right. So why was it so fucked up?

 

He had loved Rukia, and he still loved her in his own way. That would never change. But they had separated, and they had been learning to live lives apart from one another. And now, she was gone never to return without a chance for them to ever completely reconcile. The other day had been a start, but it hadn't been enough. And Ichigo had known that.

 

Now, his children didn't have their mother. Not even the dimmest outline of her presence in their future lives. Nothing but memories, the last of which were tainted by sorrow and feelings of abandonment, even if they had fought the latter to the bitter end.

 

And worse, everyone knew about it. They were all aware of the circumstances. But they still sent the proposals, still pried their nosey little fingers into his life. It was enough to make him ill. Sick of the politics and the words games and the prying, curious stares.

 

Dragging the frantic pacing to a halt, he lifted his hands and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes where it felt like a painful throb was beginning. “Fuckin' hell,” he cursed under his breath, having nearly forgotten about his visitor. “Where's a goddamn war when you need one?”

 

The question was rhetorical, but a part of Ichigo felt as if he really meant it. His fingers were cramped and twitched; he was hanging on the end of a frayed rope. He had been playing the proper part, trying to grieve and heal at the same time. Trying to be there for his children and for Byakuya, trying to move on and keep up with his life. But nothing could ever be simple for him; he had learned that the hard way.

 

Byakuya couldn't stand to see him like that and grasped for a solution, thinking that Ichigo had been holding himself in from the beginning, that he needed an outlet. But the only one he could possibly fight in this state was...

 

“I might not be able to start a war, but I can give you the next best thing,” he said, setting down his unfinished tea. He had barely drunk more than a sip from it.

 

This was a risk, and they were likely to tear each other apart. But like him, Ichigo was a warrior, and sometimes, they needed that release. He would simply have to make sure nothing lethal occurred.

 

One brown eye shifted to him, awaiting the suggestion with such a flagrant hope that Byakuya nearly crumpled at the sight. “Zaraki has complained about the lack of a good battle lately,” he suggested, hoping that he wasn't making a horrible mistake.

 

Ichigo blinked. “Are you actually suggesting that I pick a fight with Zaraki Kenpachi?”

 

He winced at the wording but doggedly continued, “If you want to look at it that way. It may be what you need.”

 

The pacing ceased as Ichigo considered his proposition. “You're right,” he finally admitted after a moment of lengthy thought. “I need to let off some steam, and Kenpachi won't fuss about it.”

 

“Not until you finish your paperwork, Ichigo-kun!” floated in from the doorway cheerfully.

 

Ichigo's eyes briefly narrowed as he glanced towards the outer office, wondering how Yumichika could have heard their voices. More proof of why he had been able to control the eleventh division so well.

 

Byakuya was somewhat amused by this. He lowered his tone and hinted very subtly. “Every office is equipped with an... exit strategy. An escape out the back, if you will,” he reminded Ichigo.

 

By the look on Ichigo's face, he was quite ready to utilize it as well. Which was why, a few minutes later, they were surreptitiously fleeing his office and heading towards the eleventh division. Byakuya could read the anticipation on Ichigo's face and wondered if his Hollow was getting just as eager. There was just the slightest edge to his reiatsu, and it was somewhat worrisome. But he wasn't going to take his suggestion back either. Ichigo needed it.

 

They made it to the eleventh division in short time and were met by Kenpachi in the front, his zanpakutou already slung across his back in anticipation.

 

“About damn time,” he grunted at them, one eye gleaming eagerly. “I was wonderin' when you'd get around to fightin' me again.”

 

Ichigo cocked an eyebrow at him, ever the confident one. “The usual place?”

 

“Course.” Kenpachi's gaze slid to Byakuya. “Hime fightin', too?”

 

With some shame, Byakuya remembered taking part in one of their ridiculously bloody and destructive spars. All because Ichigo had asked him and he was weak to Ichigo's requests. But after having to camp out at the fourth division for a day or so, he vowed he would never do so again. Not to mention, it seemed Kenpachi would never forget the incident and constantly goaded him afterwards.

 

He drew his shoulders straight. “I am merely an observer,” Byakuya explained and the hint of steel in his voice proved that was all he was going to be.

 

Kenpachi shrugged. “No matter,” he responded and shifted his attention back to the third captain. “Ready to go, Ichigo?”

 

The surge of reiatsu, barely containing the seeds of anger, was all the answer Kenpachi needed. A fanged grin split his lips before the two of them disappeared, using a flit of shunpo to take them to the large arena nearby that was already used to their destructive bouts. Before it had been an old stadium used for tournaments between the Shinigami, but when that practice had fallen aside so did the arena. It slipped into disrepair. And now, no one cared just how much it was destroyed. A shame really.

 

Byakuya moved to follow the two and found one of the remaining seats in the arena, still intact. Lowering himself onto the carved stone, he watched as Kenpachi and Ichigo faced off against each other. Zanpakutou drawn and ready, all sense of amusement gone. Frowning a bit, Byakuya concentrated on the feel of Ichigo's reiatsu. Again, the shock of alarm that rattled through him was worrisome. An unhealthy rage had been building inside Ichigo. He began to wonder if this had been such a good idea.

 

He watched as the spar began, Ichigo taking the first move with a furious rush forward. Their blades met in a fierce ring that sang through the empty arena. And then, it was the song of battle as they traded blows, kicking up dust beneath their feet and managing minor injuries one on the other.

 

The sound of feet on stone dragged Byakuya's attention from the duel to his right, where Yachiru had suddenly appeared, perching on a higher seat than his own. The look of childish play was gone from her face.

 

“Ichi's not himself today,” she commented seriously, gaze pinned on the two battlers.

 

Byakuya didn't answer her, but really, he couldn't agree more. He returned to the spar, drawn more by Ichigo's attacks than Kenpachi's response. He found his mind wandering, wondering if he was even managing to help Ichigo at all. Or if he was only making things worse by being there as a constant reminder.

 

Reiatsu split from the fighting men in increasing strength and tore out chunks of the arena's foundation and remaining stands. A stray getsuga tenshou cleaved off the top of one of the remaining parapets before heading straight for the sky. Zaraki's zanpakutou ripped through Ichigo's defenses, catching his right side and tearing away fabric. He left a small cut behind, seeping blood. But nothing fatal. Ichigo's response was to throw a small kidoh in Zaraki's direction, the captain twisting to avoid it.

 

A part of Byakuya felt pride for having taught Ichigo that spell. Another part of him increased his worry because Ichigo rarely resorted to using kidoh in any battle. In fact, it was more or less a last resort for him. Which wasn't the case here. It seemed more like he had used it just to throw off some of his excess energy.

 

Realizations pierced through Byakuya's mind. Ichigo was not fighting as well as usual. His reactions were slower than they should have been, and he was abandoning openings that Kenpachi so clearly left him. It appeared he was just throwing himself into the spar with little regard to either his safety or tactics.

 

And Kenpachi realized it as well. There was a frown on his face rather than a grin of enjoyment. And the arena was silent, save for the crashing of their zanpakutou together. Usually, by this time, Kenpachi would either cackle or taunt his opponent. And Ichigo would respond, growling and spitting back his own taunts as their friendship usually contained. The lack of conversation unnerved Byakuya, and he wondered if this had truly been a good idea.

 

The sudden belief that Ichigo was only going to get himself hurt, turning the friendly spar into something inimical. He very clearly had no aims to stop anytime soon. And if he wasn't mistaken, almost golden eyes were beginning to take on a distinctive shade that had no business in a duel between two friends.

 

This was more than just letting off steam; this was Ichigo slipping into a desire to inflict true pain. Influence of his Hollow no doubt along with a hefty dose of repressed rage and irritation. Perhaps even pain.

 

Byakuya rose to his feet with every intention to stop the battle here and now. This wasn't healthy in the slightest, and Ichigo needed to cease. Now. But before he could even take a step, he watched as Kenpachi pulled back.

 

“Enough,” Kenpachi declared, eying the fluctuating reiatsu surrounding Ichigo with a strange expression on his face. “I'm done.”

 

Ichigo snarled, eyes narrowing. “This fight isn't over,” he growled, fingers tightening in their grip on Zangetsu's hilt.

 

“It is ta me,” Kenpachi answered and wriggled a finger in his ear nonchalantly. His stance had relaxed, dropping from battle-ready to bored. “Ya ain't really into it anyway. It's no fun when you're like that.”

 

Pursing his lips, Ichigo's nostrils flared. “I didn't think you were the type to run from a fight,” he attempted to incite.

 

The eleventh-division captain tipped his head to the side, not to be goaded either. “And I didn't think ya were so weak you'd pick a fight like this.”

 

As Ichigo glared at him, Kenpachi took his zanpakutou and slung the blade over one shoulder. “I'm done here,” he added and turned away, free hand idly dropping to one of his bleeding wounds. All superficial.

 

Annoyance filled Ichigo's countenance, and he turned back towards Byakuya, dissolving the bankai he had summoned at some point during the fight. He had just as many injuries as Kenpachi, most of them trivial, and his shihakushou was ripped and torn in places. But he would live.

 

Byakuya, who had stepped down until he was at ground level, met him near one of the collapsed exits. “Did it work?” he asked and quietly searched Ichigo's face with his eyes.

 

His best friend shook his head, pinning Zangetsu on his back and accepting the heavy weight of his blade. “Maybe. I don't really know.” He sighed heavily, feeling more drained than he had before. “Mostly, I just feel tired.”

 

Byakuya could understand. He just wished he knew how to make it better. Ichigo looked like he was handling Rukia's loss well, but instead, he was still brimming with emotion. It would take a long time before he would be completely able to accept her death. Byakuya knew because he felt much the same, and he wasn't the only one being bombarded with marriage offers.

 

Running his hand through his hair, Ichigo exhaled heavily. “I guess I'll head back to the office. Face Yumichika's wrath.”

 

“Only slightly more terrifying than the thought of Zaraki's bankai,” Byakuya added.

 

It took only a second for Ichigo realize that it was a joke, and the slight smile that cracked his lips was a victory to Byakuya. His sense of humor, rarely utilized, was a secret weapon.

 

“Yeah, just a bit,” he agreed. “You?”

 

Idly patting down wrinkles that weren't really present, Byakuya mused for all of a second. “I suppose I had better make sure my division hasn't collapsed in my absence. Rikichi is capable, but when overwhelmed, he makes small mistakes.”

 

“To each his own,” Ichigo murmured, turning towards the healer patiently waiting to tend to his wounds; she had probably been summoned by a wise Yachiru. “Dinner?”

 

Byakuya found a smile on his lips. He hadn't lost Ichigo just yet. “Of course.”

 

Inclining his head, the faraway look came a little closer to home as his gaze shifted to the sixth-division captain. “Thanks, Byakuya.”

 

“Someday, you will learn I don't need them,” he chided and then stepped away in a flit of shunpo towards his own office. The warming flutter in his heart all he needed to confirm that his feelings weren't fading anytime soon. He had fallen fast and hard and was now fully enmeshed in Ichigo. There was no escape, not that he wanted.

 

- - -

 

Silent and still. Those were the first things that Ichigo registered as he slid open the door to Rukia's apartment and stepped inside. It felt as if his every footstep echoed loudly, and a familiar scent still hung in the air. Rukia's scent. It struck a pang though his heart, one that he couldn't quite ignore.

 

Firming his resolve, Ichigo clenched his fingers around the pack of folded boxes he carried and forced himself to enter completely. Behind him, Byakuya followed, keeping his silence as he noticed Ichigo's hesitancy. He didn't want to push, feeling his own reluctance for stepping into Rukia's last home.

 

Setting down the stack of cardboard, Ichigo picked up the one at the top of the pile and began to unfold it, popping the sides into place. The noise seemed uncommonly loud amongst all the silence. It unnerved him. Keeping his attention focused on the menial chore, however, was half a distraction. It would do for now.

 

Byakuya stepped up beside him, and Ichigo handed the completed box over, flaps smacking against the side with a hollow slap that echoed. The noble took it but couldn't completely wipe the look of confusion from his face. It was clear that he had never done this sort of thing before.

 

“Just grab anything in the kitchen that's non-perishable and put it in the box,” Ichigo explained, reaching for his own box and mechanically folding it into proper position. “I'll start here.”

 

Nodding, Byakuya turned towards the kitchen, visible just through a nearby doorway, only to pause. “Ichigo…” His name was an unworded question.

 

“I'm fine,” Ichigo answered, perhaps a bit more tersely than was believable. But he had to say it to make it true, even if it was a lie. “I can do this.”

 

The look he received in return was piercing, as if Byakuya was trying to look straight through him, before the noble inclined his head slowly. “I'll help you with the bedroom.” He left no room for argument.

 

Ichigo didn't even look at him, already grabbing Rukia's belongings scattered around the living room and placing them into the box with dull thumps. He wanted to say that he could handle it himself, that it wasn't that hard, but he knew it would be a lie. Besides, it wasn't as if Byakuya hadn't already seen him at his weakest. There wasn't much room left for him to fall.

 

“Fine,” he agreed and left it at that. Several moments later, he heard the sound of Byakuya retreating to the kitchen and the subsequent noises of cabinets being opened and closed.

 

The silence in the apartment was really unnerving. He wondered how Rukia had managed to survive it. Cold and barren and quiet except for the occasional rattle of noise outside. Or maybe it just seemed that hushed to him because of what being there meant. That here he was, his wife barely laid to rest, rifling through her belongings and packing them away.

 

He would have to do it at the house soon enough, and Ichigo dreaded that and contemplated just leaving everything where it was. The lingering remains of what she had left behind when she had moved out. Frankly, it just seemed so callous. But it had to be done, and so he did it, idly picking up her things and placing them into the box.

 

A paperback, something sappy from the real world, with a crease in the binding as it was left open on the floor, marking the spot where she had left off. A lamp, handmade and also from the real world. A birthday gift from Yuzu if he remembered correctly. Flowers were pressed into the paper shade. He tested the switch, causing a faint glow to appear behind the opaque screen. He flicked it off again and stowed it in the box as well.

 

Ichigo turned towards the next end table and paused, hand hovering what rested atop it. A picture frame, one of the few that Rukia had taken with her. He recognized the scene behind the thin glass, taken not too long after the twins were born. If he recalled correctly, Byakuya had been the photographer, capturing the moment happy parents had returned home to introduce the newest members of their family.

 

He swallowed as he plucked the frame from its position, eyes tracing over the misleading scene. Even then… even then, Rukia hadn't been entirely happy. And he hadn't even noticed. Too wrapped up in his own excitement over the twins, he hadn't realized how much her own feelings tore at her.

 

He should have known, should have noticed. She had been thrilled to be returning to her position. She had been looking forward to proving her strength, that she was suited to the vice-captaincy for her own abilities and not for her associations. She had been waiting decades for it, especially since her brother had finally loosened his reins.

 

She loved her children; Ichigo knew that. But in many ways, it was because of Mikan and Ryuunosuke that she wasn't able to return to active duty as quickly as she had planned. The twins had been an unexpected and wonderful surprise, and he knew she wouldn't have given them up for anything. Her frustration had therefore transferred itself to Ichigo. Thinking back, he didn't mind that so much. Not if it meant she didn't resent her children.

 

In many ways, Ichigo had failed her. Perhaps they were doomed from that moment. Perhaps not. Maybe their relationship could have been saved if he had paid attention. Or maybe that was just fate in the works. But Ichigo had never been the sort to lie down and wait for destiny.

 

And constantly running what ifs through his mind was proving to be an emotional trudge through agony. It wasn't getting him anywhere, especially now that it was too late. He was only making things worse. Drowning in his guilt would solve nothing, and he had the feeling that Rukia would scowl at him if she knew how much he was brooding, as she would have called it.

 

Biting his lip, Ichigo gently placed the photograph into the box and continued to pack up the rest of the living area. There really wasn't much left, and he finished within a few minutes; the box was only half-full, plenty of room remaining for a few more objects. Rising to his feet, Ichigo brushed dust off the knees of his hakama and silently moved to the kitchen. Peeking in on Byakuya, he found the Kuchiki lord frowning over two items, obviously trying to decide if one should be packed or not. It was kind of cute, if Ichigo thought about it. As a noble, he had probably never had to do this sort of labor himself.

 

Figuring that Byakuya could handle it himself, Ichigo crept away and left him to his work. One other room remained other than the adjoining bathroom. Steeling himself, Ichigo headed for the bedroom, despite what he had agreed to earlier. He was an adult, after all. He could handle a few memories.

 

In the kitchen, Byakuya stopped trying to decipher the labels on the two bottles he held and threw them both into the box. If it didn't need to be kept, Ichigo could just throw it away later. It wasn't like he really knew what he was doing. And honestly, there was little in the kitchen that counted as an actual belonging.

 

His box was only half full, containing mostly some dishes, towels, and pot holders. It appeared that Rukia ate out often since there was very little in the way of food. He found a few drawings by Syaoran tacked to the walls, brightening up the small room considerably. He had taken those down and carefully folded them. The rest of it, however, was standard issue, down to the curtains and most of the dishware. It wasn't unlike staying in a hotel.

 

Frowning to himself, Byakuya hefted the box in one arm and wandered back into the main room. Ichigo was nowhere to be seen, his half-empty box sitting abandoned on the floor. A quick glance proved that the room had been emptied of personal possessions and that another of the empty boxes Ichigo had brought with him had disappeared. Which really left only one other place for his brother-in-law to be.

 

Resisting the urge to sigh at Ichigo's stubbornness, Byakuya placed his box near the one Ichigo had left behind and grabbed the last empty one. Idly attempting to unfold it with marginal success, he headed for the bedroom with quiet footsteps that would have made Yoruichi proud. Stepping into the open doorway, he found Ichigo as he had expected. The other man was kneeling on the ground, open packing container on the floor to his right, and he appeared to be cradling something in his lap. A smaller box that was brightly colored. His reiatsu radiated sorrow, despite his every effort to contain it.

 

Byakuya quietly set the box he had brought down, misshapen and sagging on one side, just within the doorway. Opening his mouth to call Ichigo's attention, he was surprised when the other captain beat him to it.

 

“She loved them,” Ichigo stated, voice carrying easily in the silence. Cracked but not broken. “She distanced herself, but by kami, she loved them.”

 

Shoulders hunched against a foe without face or form, the sight of Ichigo was enough to make Byakuya's own heart ache. To quote his nephew, it simply wasn't fair. Byakuya swallowed thickly, searching for the right words and wishing that all those lessons in etiquette had been exchanged for lessons in how to interact with society normally and comfort those who meant something to him.

 

“Of course she did,” he replied and marveled at himself for answering with a steady tone that didn't betray his own emotions. “Rukia loved her children. There was never any doubt of that.” He stepped completely into the room and lowered himself to the floor beside Ichigo, somehow managing not to make a fool of himself in the process. “And I know she loved you as well.”

 

He heard more than saw Ichigo draw in a shuddering breath. “I know.”

 

Byakuya didn't even have to think for his next move. In fact, he would think back afterwards and recall and realize he had acted without prior consideration. Intuition had served him best. Lifting a hand, he set it on Ichigo's shoulder and simply squeezed. A gesture of comfort, an offer of kinship. Just there, take it as one will.

 

This pain Ichigo was suffering, whatever he was running ragged through his head. This was the reason why Byakuya hadn't wanted him to tackle Rukia's sleeping quarters on his own. Here, her presence was strongest. Her scent hung heavier in this room, and the walls were breathing with her reiatsu, practically emanating an icy chill. This room kept the objects she had considered most precious.

 

But he didn't say “I told you so.” Such an immature response was nowhere near his tongue. In fact, all he offered was wordless consolation.

 

He waited with bated breath until Ichigo reached up and squeezed his fingers with his free hand, skin cool to the touch. Likely an effect of Rukia's lingering reiatsu in the room. Only then did Byakuya breathe again. And then, Ichigo was handing him the colorfully wrapped package.

 

“For Syaoran,” Ichigo explained, tone still somewhat reverent. “She must have been waiting to give it to her.”

 

He took the offered object and glanced at it. Not too heavy or too light, packed tightly within so that whatever it was didn't shift around. A gentle shake revealed a lack of noise. Byakuya didn't believe that it was anything breakable. But he wasn't going to open it either. That was for Syaoran and Syaoran alone, a last present from mother to daughter.

 

Byakuya glanced around and placed it on a nearby dresser with a faint sigh. “I said I would help you,” he reminded Ichigo, disliking the sense of melancholy, even stronger than before, that had pervaded the room.

 

The other captain nodded and slowly began to pick up other objects around him, placing them with care into the box. “Yeah, but…” He didn't have a reason to offer so he left it at that.

 

Byakuya watched him for another long moment before deciding to leave the conversation ended. Instead, he moved to another portion of the room and began packing up what he found there. Personal toiletries. Another picture frame, this time one of the entire gang in Karakura. Everything fleeting that meant anything to his sister.

 

He was struck by how empty her quarters really had been. There were necessities and evidence of her old life at her old home. There were memories. But there wasn't anything to show that she really lived and not merely existed. No signs that she did anything more than work and sit alone in a silent apartment.

 

He wondered if she ever went out or spent time with the friends who remained loyal to her. And then he realized that he, too, had been a failure of a support. His initial anger had been much to blame for that, but really, he should have been there for her more. He had rationalized it by saying that Ichigo needed him more, that Ichigo was the victim. Yet, Rukia had been suffering just as much.

 

She felt the brunt of the damaging rumors. Had to deal with the stares and the whispers and the accusations. With others watching her and wondering, with those she had considered friends abandoning her. With the Kuchiki wanting to remove her from the family. Not to mention having to watch her husband and her brother grow even closer, no matter what she had tried to do.

 

Byakuya thought that he understood in that very moment just why Rukia had found herself drowning in a painful anger. And why it had turned to violence. Frustration was a terrible feeling, and it had only grown worse with time.

 

It did not excuse her actions in the slightest, but he felt that this fate was a bit too cruel for her. And no one had even stopped to look at it through her eyes, had only seen the pain she inflicted. The outside world, those who had no part, hadn't even seen how both of them - Ichigo and Rukia - carried the blame. Not for the violence; that was Rukia alone. But for the circumstances surrounding their family.

 

And for his part, Byakuya did as well. Even if it hadn't been intentional, as the two closest to her, one of them should have noticed. They should have seen the pain she was hiding. But they hadn't, and for that, Byakuya could only believe that they had been selfish.

 

It truly was a situation where nothing was black and white. He had known immediately of Rukia's regret for her actions. It was obvious in her attempts to draw away. How much had it hurt, he wondered, for her to pull away from her family in the hopes that it would fix whatever had poisoned her? How often had she asked herself if it would help to ask someone else for aid or if anyone would even understand? Perhaps she'd had a bit too much of the Kuchiki pride in her.

 

Guilt descended on Byakuya so quickly he didn't know what to do with the crushing feeling. He hadn't been there for her when he should have, and it was ultimately a sobering realization. He could argue that she was free now, that her death had brought her some sort of liberation from the emotional pain her life had recently been steeped in. But that was as much of an excuse as everything else.

 

“Byakuya?”

 

Blinking, Byakuya broke from his contemplative stupor, looking down to find that his fingers had paused, locked around the picture frame that hovered in the air, halfway between shelf and box. On the edge of his vision, he caught sight of Ichigo giving him a worried look. Understandable, considering he had spaced out for several long moments.

 

He looked at his brother-in-law and felt the guilt again. But he also felt determination. He would not give Ichigo up, this emotion one that Rukia had suffered for. To do so would be a dishonor to her pain.

 

Such a dangerous thing, love. It so easily broke a person but just as easily healed them all the same.

 

He shook his head and forced himself to return to packing the last bits of his sister's life. “It's nothing,” he murmured, not wanting to burden Ichigo with his sudden understanding. His friend had enough on his shoulders.

 

He knew from the measuring glance he was given that Ichigo didn't quite believe him. But he wasn't going to press either. They had long ago reached the place in their friendship where they understood that if one wanted to talk about it, he would come to the other with time.

 

They shared minimal conversation as they packed up the rest of Rukia's belongings, the entire affair lasting little more than another hour. In the end, they emerged with four good-sized boxes. What remained would either be donated to one of the many Rukongai orphanages or left behind for the next tenant, such as the furniture.

 

“Where do you want them?” Byakuya asked as they stepped out of the apartment, Ichigo locking it behind him.

 

He watched as the orange-haired man bent to pick up two of the boxes, a bit bulkier than the ones Byakuya carried. “I was just going to take them home,” Ichigo answered quietly.

“I'll let the children look through them when they get a little older. Other than the pictures.”

 

Byakuya inclined his head in understanding, still distracted by his earlier thoughts. He made a noncommittal sound in his throat, letting the lingering warmth of autumn wash over him.

 

The sounds of the nearby thirteenth division floated to his ears as they headed away from Rukia's quarters. It appeared that Ukitake was putting his lower-seats through their paces today. And if he concentrated, he could feel the glimmer of reiatsu that was Kiyone and Sentarou, once again raised to a near lieutenant status. However, they had refrained from arguing recently, which wasn't unexpected.

 

Jyuushiro's own grief was still a heavy pain to them, and they sought to make life easier on their captain. Byakuya had the feeling that the lack of their bickering might have actually made things worse. And he also knew that the thirteenth division wouldn't be seeing a new vice-captain anytime this century. No matter what Chamber 46 pressed or demanded, Jyuushiro would not be pushed to make a decision. Byakuya admired his senpai for his strength.

 

For the moment, however, it seemed that caring for the children was the only thing that brought a smile to Jyuushiro's face. Perhaps seeing Rukia in them that gave him cheer again. Or their sweet innocence. Either way, they were responsible for keeping their adoptive grandfather from falling into a complete depression. Which was why at this current moment both Kaien and Syaoran were under Jyuushiro's care.

 

A comfortable silence had settled between Ichigo and Byakuya as they headed away from Rukia's last residence. Neither seemed to mind it too much. Sometimes, words weren't necessary.

 

- - - - -