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Back at the estate, Byakuya and Renji made their good-byes. They both agreed they were terrible at them, so it was a brief kiss and not much more. Byakuya knew better than to extract a promise that Renji return in once piece. Either he had the strength or he did not. It was in the hands of fate now.
Renji managed to leave him with a smile, though. Leaning in, his lips grazed Byakuya’s ear as he said, “I’m going to be dreaming about you doing me up against that wall. You ever want to hold me down like that again, I’m in. All in. That was fucking hot. And I’m never going to be able to have cream without thinking about the taste of you,” Renji added wickedly, with another butterfly-light kiss on Byakuya’s mouth.
Thus, when they turned from each other, Byakuya had a secret, fond smile on his lips.
Which faded instantly at the sight of aunt Masama waiting for him in the entryway, “You waited up for me,” Byakuya noted dryly, “How… thoughtful.”
“Don’t think I can’t read your tone, young man,” she sneered. “Where have you been?”
Byakuya couldn’t resist rolling his eyes, and a sullen, simple: “Out.”
Masama sat on a low bench usually reserved for removing armored footwear. She set aside the tea she’d been sipping and stood up. Her long white hair was knotted into a single, long braid tossed over one narrow shoulder, and she wore a subdued yukata with a repeating pattern of dark nighthawk silhouettes across the sleeves and back of midnight blue fabric. She looked Byakuya over disapprovingly, “With that boy.”
“Renji is a full-grown man,” Byakuya said with a sigh. “As, my dear lady aunt, am I.”
He turned, ready to bid her good-night, when she said, “Your kimono is untidy and you have ivy in your hair. Please tell me you comported yourself in a manner befitting a nobleman of your stature.”
It was difficult not to reach up and find the betraying twig and remove it guiltily, but Byakuya kept that impulse in check. “Though I have no need to explain any of my behavior to you, I can tell you with the utmost honesty that I was a perfect gentleman while in the public eye.” Then, deciding that the best strategy was an aggressive counterattack, Byakuya offered his arm to escort his aunt upstairs and said conversationally, “We had dinner at the ryokan you recommended. You may be pleased to know I intend to grant the warrant. The chef put on quite the show tonight. He demonstrated a surprising sense of humor.”
Thrown by Byakuya’s solicitous politeness, Masama took his arm, “Oh, indeed?”
“Yes,” Byakuya nodded, leaning them both towards the stairs that led to the guest quarters. “Even Renji was charmed.”
“You took your… man to such a fine establishment? Isn’t someone like him better suited for ivy-covered back alleys?”
“I daresay Renji performs superbly in both.”
Her lips made a thin line, clearly catching his double-entendre. “You sully yourself with that one.”
“I disagree,” Byakuya said in an even tone, as they reached the top of the stairs. “He makes me happy.”
“Dear Miisho tells me that there’s a brother in prison? Some sort of violent business, recklessly attacking our Division’s patrol,” she shook her head as though she couldn’t imagine anything so awful.
Byakuya disliked her possessiveness in regards to the Sixth, but he didn’t want to start that particular fight. That hereditary assumption that the Sixth belonged to the Kuchiki family reminded him that he would have to make provisions to be certain that whatever heir he appointed wouldn’t automatically assume the captaincy would pass to him. The next captain of the Sixth would be Renji or Rukia or no one.
If it were to be any other way, Byakuya would simply have to refuse to die.
“Miisho tells me that your man has similar inclinations,” Masama continued sharply. “He betrayed and attacked you, Byakuya-chan. How can you stand to entertain a traitor?”
They’d come to the door to the guest suite reserved for Kuchiki family members. Byakuya paused by the entry, and let his arm drop. “Your ‘dear Miisho’ talks quite a bit out of turn.”
“It’s true, though, isn’t it? That filthy cur not only has the audacity to touch you, but he dared raised his sword to his own captain.” She was starting to hiss, she was so horrified. “Tell me the truth, Byakuya.”
What could he say in Renji’s defense? The circumstances were complicated, certainly, but no Kuchiki would ever understand that. So, he straightened his shoulders and caught Masama’s gaze. In his coldest voice, he said, “You make it sound as though Renji could do anything more than bark and nip at my ankles. It is the nature of dogs to snarl and strain against their leash.”
She nodded as though in understanding. Byakuya knew she’d appreciate that kind of language, even if it shamed him. He hoped perhaps he could finally say good night, and they could resume their argument in the morning. But, Masama’s eyes dropped in sudden blushing shyness and she asked quietly, “And you are the master, you hold the chain?”
Byakuya let out a dark huff of a laugh. This was what it came down to? Who was on top?
But of course it mattered. Byakuya could hardly pretend it didn’t. The clan head of the noble Kuchiki family couldn’t be heels over head for some Rukongai mutt. It was just not done. What little instruction he’d gotten in these matters boiled down to a simple adage: stay in control, be the tachi, never the ukemi. After all, what would they think if they could have you, a nobleman, that way? How can we expect deference if we let the lowborn take our pride? How will they kneel to us, once they’ve seen us on our knees?
But none of that presupposed love.
It was fucking, and fucking only. No one had offered any advice on how to love a man, how to give and receive affection, how to offer respect inside the bedroom and out. Perhaps, if they had, Renji wouldn’t be leaving with so much between them still unresolved.
Aunt Masama was still looking at Byakuya expectantly, waiting for an answer to her all-important question. “Yes,” he said regretfully. “Yes, I hold the leash.”
“Thank fate,” she whispered in relief.
He’d been turning from her, but he stopped to look over his shoulder. “No, it’s been a mistake. I’ve gripped the chains so tightly that I would break my own hands to maintain control.”
With that, he walked away, leaving Masama to stare after him, open-mouthed.
#
Renji couldn’t believe it. Someone had cleaned his quarters. No, it was more than ‘clean,’ the whole place was polished, scrubbed and tidied. Somehow it smelled… good, like Byakuya’s hair. Jeez, did the Kuchiki staff have a mister labeled ‘Byakuya scent’? And, if they did, how the hell could Renji get his hands on it?
On his freshly made cot, two pair of hakama were folded neatly, one with an obvious, painstakingly re-stitched seam. A note lay on top of them. Renji picked it up, though there was no mystery who’d arranged all this. In Byakuya’s careful script were the words, “Please accept this small gift. I have no wish to make things worse between us, only to offer reparations the only way I know how.”
By sending his servants? Still, it was thoughtful. Renji appreciated the sentiment and the effort, especially since the up side was sleeping in a room that smelled like Byakuya.
And it didn’t hurt to have clean pants.
In fact, he could use a change. He carefully retrieved the orange origami Zabimaru from his pocket and set it on his footlocker. It’d gotten a little squished, but Renji was scared to try to fix it himself. The little paper Zabimaru would just have to list to the side for now. Renji smiled just thinking of Byakuya, hung over, trying to make it just so. It must have been quite the production.
“See,” Renji told Zabimaru, as he propped the real version next to the paper one, and started stripping out of his clothes. “He does like you.”
We’ve come to an understanding, Zabimaru growled deeply.
“Nah, it’s more than that,” Renji said, pulling his shirts over his head. “He put real effort into that. You heard what he said. He made it himself. In the state he was in, it probably took him hours. If he was just being nice, he could of made a simple swan or something. He made it look like you.”
Renji tossed the dirty clothes into the corner he usually reserved for laundry. After shrugging into a freshly cleaned shitage and kosode, Renji tried on the brand new hakama. They fit perfectly. Heh. Someone knew his size. That seemed like an another big relationship milestone.
Unless, of course it was Eishirō—then it was just awkward.
Renji tucked the kenseikan necklace into the folds of his shirts. The cool smooth stone-substance rested against his sternum. Between this and the origami, Renji felt like he was getting quite a collection of gifts. What the hell was he going to do with the necklace though? He’d never owned anything this remotely valuable. The chain looked as though it could be silver, too… though, truthfully, Renji had no idea. Still, that much white jade, especially if it was magically combined with Hollow bits, had to represent a small fortune.
He plunked down on his cot for a moment, laying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. Just when he was considering getting up and doing something with his hair or trying to sneak into the sento, he heard the slap of sandals on the porch outside heading his way. He was at the door with Zabimaru in hand when a breathless Rikichi was raising his fist to knock. “Come quick,” Rikichi panted. “Eleventh Division is at the gate.”
Turned out, it was only Ikkaku and Yumichika and a small clot of their hangers-on. “Oi!” Ikkaku shouted when Renji’s face appeared over the top of the gate. “Get your ass down here, Abarai! Bring Kuchiki. We’re going to paint the town red one last time.”
Kuchiki?
“You want me to bring--?” Renji stopped himself just in time. Oh, right, no way Ikkaku meant Byakuya. Renji shook his head to banish the thought of Byakuya out on the town with these two. “Oh, right, Rukia. No, man, sorry, I ain’t going anywhere near that auntie if I don’t have to.”
Ikkaku scratched his bald head, “Auntie? Did you just say ‘auntie’? You talking about some old lady?”
“Nah, I’m talking about a demon straight from Hell.” The guards below Renji snickered at that description of Lady Kuchiki. Beside him, Rikichi gave a little hiss of shock, but then chuckled into his sleeve.
“Ah, you chickenshit!” Ikkaku leaned Hōzukimaru on one shoulder, “Ain’t that Kuchiki squirt supposed to be your best friend? You telling me you’d fight Aizen and half the Soul Society for her, but not some old lady?”
Renji glanced in the direction of the manor. From his vantage point on the gate’s ramparts, he could see the sloped roof of the main part of the estate. With the moon slipping in and out of the clouds behind it, the mansion looked forbidding, almost haunted. Still, he could go to the back entrance, get Eishirō to fetch her, “Yeah, all right. Where are we meeting you troublemakers?”
“That West Gate akachōchin, just on the other side of the wall, in the First District… uh, what’s it called again, Yumichika?”
“’That Place That Hasn’t Barred Us Yet,’” Yumichika supplied.
“Yeah, that’s the one! I love that place!” Ikkaku said happily. “Meet us there. If we don’t see you in a half hour, we’re enlisting Kenpachi and storming the estate.”
“Jeez… fuck, don’t do that! We’ll be there!” Renji insisted urgently. He was pretty sure he knew the place they were talking about, and, anyway, if not, he’d just find the bar with the loudest party.
When they finally moved off, Rikichi turned to Renji and asked, “They wouldn’t really make a run on the estate, would they?”
“You kidding? Of course they would! Kenpachi’d be all over that. He’d do it just to irritate the captain and provoke him to spar. Shit, I’d better hurry. Rukia could be getting ready for bed already.”
Renji turned, getting ready to shunpō to the back of the estate, when Rikichi touched his sleeve. “We’ll… uh, we’ll miss you, sir. You know, when you’re off in the Human World. Come back safe, all right?”
Aw. Renji threw an arm around Rikichi’s shoulder and gave him a tight squeezing hug. “You know, I never said, but you were a huge help with all that stuff with Rukia. Thanks.”
In the flickering light of the torches that lined the gate, Renji could see Rikichi’s bright blush. “It wasn’t that big a deal,” nearly kicking the wall with his toe in shyness. “I just want you to do your thing; you know, fight.”
He turned and waved good-bye. “That’s one thing I can promise, for sure. I’ll fight. I’ll fight like hell.”
#
Eishirō was surprised to discover a sheepish Lieutenant Abarai at the kitchen door. He hung an arm on the door frame, the sleeve sidling down to show off a few tattoos. The lieutenant also seemed to have gotten punched in the nose recently. Eishirō tried not to imagine what kind of rough play ended with a bruised face and dirt behind his ear and clinging to his topknot. There had been ivy in his lordship’s hair tonight when Eishirō had attended him. Dear gods, did the two of them roll in the mud together? It was impossible for Eishirō to imagine Byakuya-sama doing anything so rough… though Eishirō’s brain stretched and twisted, trying.
“Uh, sorry to bother you,” Renji said, misinterpreting Eishirō owl-eyed stare, “But, Rukia’s staying here, right? Me and some of the guys want to take her out on the town, you know, for our last night.”
“I will ask, of course, but Lady Rukia may be quite irritated with you, Lieutenant,” Eishirō said, ushering him in. “You and his lordship left her to dine with Lady Masama alone.”
“Holy shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Renji said, settling with his back against the hearth, warming himself near the embers of the cooking fire. “I for sure owe her a few beers, then, eh?”
“Indeed,” Eishirō agreed. From the reports of the tea boy, things had been quite awkward. It didn’t help that the young lady who was meant to be Byakuya-sama’s newest marriage candidate had arrived with her entourage, including her mother and an aunt. Lady Rukia had been overwhelmed by female talk of wedding preparations that she understood as well as anyone that her lord brother was not the least bit interested in.
Eishirō would have served them himself, if for the gossip alone, but he’d been busy coordinating the guest accommodations for an unusually full house. The whole evening had been made that much more complicated by an insistent Third Seat who’d complained of a leaky ceiling and a decided lack of male company.… It had, at least, been worth hearing all the things Ōta-san had to say upon discovering his lordship had gone out to dinner with the lieutenant. Eishirō felt he was a step closer to understanding the nature of this mysterious “evidence” supposedly gathered against Abarai-fukutaicho.
Eishirō turned to fetch the Lady Rukia, but stopped when Renji cleared his throat.
“Uh, hey, thanks for the new pants and for cleaning my quarters. I don’t know how your people did it, but it finally stopped stinking of spoiled milk,” Renji said.
“Trade secret,” Eishirō replied with a little smile. “But the gift was from the master.”
“Yeah, but his gift was your work,” Renji pointed out. “I just wanted you to know I appreciated both.”
Eishirō gave a slight, grateful bow in acknowledgment, and headed up the back ways to Lady Rukia’s suite. Eishirō prided himself by knowing where everyone in the household was at any given time, thus he was surprised to overhear the voices of Lady Rukia and Lord Byakuya coming from the library. As he approached, he could make out snatches of their conversation. It seemed the Lady Rukia was filling his lordship in on her opinion of the candidate.
“Dull, dull, dull,” she was saying as Eishirō knelt at the door. “But, really pretty. I mean, gorgeous, like… well, a princess.”
Byakuya-sama chuckled lightly.
Sensing an opportune time to interrupt, Eishirō rapped on the door. “Please forgive the intrusion,” he said, pressing his head to the floor. “Lieutenant Abarai is in the kitchen, requesting Lady Rukia’s company for an evening on the town with himself and… ‘some of the boys.’”
Eishirō looked up to see how torn Lady Rukia was by the invitation. She glanced at her brother, and then shook her head, “Tell Renji I’m very sorry, but I’m spending my last evening with nii-sama.”
Eishirō nodded, ready to leave them to their evening when Byakuya-sama stopped him, “Rukia, you should go with your friends.”
“But I’m going to see them every day!” she protested. “I might not…” But then her hands flew to her mouth and she swallowed back the words. Clearing her throat, she said, “That is, I want to spend time with you before I go.” Then almost as an afterthought she added, “Plus drinking with Ikkaku? Scary.”
“I’ll bring up some tea, shall I?” Eishirō offered, hoping to help nudge the decision.
“As you wish,” Byakuya-sama said with a sigh, but his lips held a slight smile. “Ask Renji if he can spare a moment or two.”
“Yes, my lord.”
#
Renji scratched the back of his neck, considering Eishirō’s invitation. “Well, okay. I mean, let’s get real. Ikkaku and those guys are already hard at it by now. They won’t know a half hour from two hours anyways.”
“An excellent choice, sir,” Eishirō said, putting finishing touches on the tea tray. Renji watched him with a small amount of fascination. He’d never seen anyone but Miki prepare food and drink for Byakuya.
“Miki’s asleep, I take it,” Renji said.
“Yes, I sent her off early,” Eishirō said. “There are a lot of guests here, some of them very… particular. She’s going to be busy from sunup to sundown tomorrow.”
Renji nodded. “Auntie brought a big entourage, did she?”
“As always,” Eishirō pulled some confections from the ice box and added them to the tray. “And for each lady we have extra footmen, valets, lady’s maids, and more. The candidate brought her own small army—“
“Candidate?” Renji asked, “Candidate for what?”
“Oh,” Eishirō said, deftly picking up the tea tray. Renji followed as they headed out of the kitchen to the back corridors. “Yes, I suppose you haven’t heard. Lady Masama is so convinced she has the upper hand this time, she’s brought along the young lady she wishes Byakuya-sama to marry.”
Renji was a little surprised. Aunt Masama must be really certain, otherwise it seemed risky to have the girl travel all this way. It could be embarrassing for the lady to have Byakuya refuse her to her face. “This is about that evidence thing, isn’t it?”
“So I gather.”
“Any luck figuring out what it is?”
They were near to the hallway that led to the library. Eishirō paused. “Possibly,” he said conspiratorially. “Your Third Seat is very open in his opinions. At first he was very agitated not to be able to bully his way into a private dinner invitation with his lordship, but then when he found out that the two of you were off together he said something very curious--well, first he said something very rude about what you and his lordship were likely up to, but then he claimed that the more that sort of thing happened the better ‘it’ would be detected.”
“It?” Renji asked. “What the hell is ‘it’?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” Eishirō said, shifting to hold the tea tray in one hand, he kept an eye on the tea leaves. “But, I suspect he means ‘pollution.’”
Renji frowned, “Pollution? You say that like that’s a thing I should understand. I don’t know what that is. I mean, I know the word, but what the heck does it have to do with sex?”
Eishirō glanced between Renji and the tea several moments as a blush crept up his neck. Then, he suddenly started moving towards the library. “We must go or the tea will spoil,” he said. “Ask Lady Rukia about it privately,” he offered before Renji could shout after him. “She likely still remembers the purification from her adoption ceremony.”
They’d come to the library door, and Eishirō knelt down. Renji followed him to his knees to ask in a whisper, “Wait, so, it’s not a sex thing? It’s a noble thing?”
“It’s more a thing we must do to interact with them,” Eishirō hissed.
“I’ve never heard of this. What the hell are you talking about?”
“Please, ask Lady Rukia,” Eishirō said, and then stopped all Renji’s questions with a loud rap on the door. Flustered, he said, “Tea and the lieutenant.”
“Sheesh,” Renji said with a chuckle, standing up. “Why don’t I just lie on the tray? You make me sound like something being served.”
“A thousand pardons, Lieutenant,” Eishirō murmured just as Rukia shouted, “Stop harassing the steward, Renji!”
“I’m only teasing him,” Renji said sliding open the door, even though no one had said it was okay. “He knows that. He’s a good guy, ain’t ya, Eishirō?”
Eishirō gave Renji an annoyed glare that only made Renji laugh harder. Byakuya was standing up to make room for Eishirō to put the tray near the pile of za-button pillows near the courtyard garden door. “I see you chose to join us, Renji.”
“Eh, I figure Ikkaku is already half-blind with drink. He isn’t going to notice if I turn up a little later than promised,” Renji said, coming in to sit where Byakuya indicated. “But, I got to go before they’re done for the night or the lot of them’ll be just wasted enough to remember to try to storm the estate.”
“Egads,” Byakuya said, settling back down to pour the tea for the three of them.
Rukia was shaking her head. “Your friends, Renji: sheesh.”
“Hey, they’re your friends, too,” Renji protested, accepting the bowl Byakuya offered him. As their fingers grazed slightly, he glanced up into Byakuya’s eyes, wondering about this ‘pollution’ thing. Was he somehow dirtying Byakuya with his every touch? He pulled his hand away sharply, feeling shame heat his face.
“Renji?” Byakuya was clearly startled at Renji’s reaction, “Is everything all right?”
Setting the tea bowl down, Renji looked at his hands, rough and calloused with over half-century of sword practice and hard living. The idea that something about them literally sullied Byakuya in some measurable, detectable way made Renji feel sick to his stomach.
All those years of people calling him a dirty dog… he’d always just pushed those accusations to the back of his mind, chalked them up to snooty attitudes and general bullshit.
But… what if it was true?
Glancing at Byakuya’s wide, curious eyes, Renji remembered how it was in the beginning with them—no, how it still was. Did Byakuya know? Was that why he always insisted things go a certain way, why he’d rather tie Renji up than let him touch him with these dirty hands?
Renji’s gut clenched and he found himself standing up. To everyone’s surprised expressions, he said, “Uh, you know, on second thought I’d better not be late. Ikkaku could get crazy, and that’s always trouble. Thanks for the invitation and everything, but I’ll leave you two to your….” He almost said ‘nobility,’ but managed to choke it back as well the bile that rose at the back of his throat. He stuffed his hands into his hakama so he wouldn’t have to look at them anymore. “Yeah, I should just go.”
“If you’re sure?” Byakuya looked—well, his usual stoic self, but Renji detected an undercurrent of disappointment.
Renji wanted to say he’d stay, but, suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt like filth was just radiating off his body, like some oily spiritual stain. “It’s for the best,” he said, and with that turned and left.
Determined was drink himself blind with Rukongai mutts just like himself, Renji picked up his pace. He needed to be with people he couldn’t drag down into his polluted muck.