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Love, in Kuchiki Byakuya's humble opinion, was pain. There was indeed a proverb, a belief to which he subscribed, that it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. However, he had done that. He had been hurt, broken, left behind, irrevocably changed. Whether for better or for worse, he did not know. Perhaps it evened out: Hisana had made him a better man, that was clear, but her death had made him lonely and withdrawn. He thought he might eventually wither away and die, too, but dismissed that as silly. After all, he was the last Kuchiki, and a captain, so he knew he must carry on.
Before Rukia knew about Hisana, she often wondered why Byakuya had chosen to adopt her. Out of all the orphans out there, what made Rukia so special? She had heard she bore a resemblance to his late wife, but she doubted that could be the only reason. She was not the best in her class at anything, not the smartest or kindest or most beautiful. Had he noticed the resemblance and inquired about her? Had he learned that she, too, had lost everyone she loved? Byakuya had lost his wife, his parents, his grandparents, all in a relatively short span of time. Rukia, too, had lost most of her makeshift family from Rukongai. Perhaps he had heard this and felt a connection?
They both felt a hunger for attachment and latched onto one another, sensing the similarities, the vulnerability and strength inside both of them constantly at odds. Their routines grew comfortable, and though they weren't siblings in any traditional sense (no shared childhood, no shared blood) they were surprisingly alike. Perhaps, Rukia wondered again, if this was why he chose her. But he couldn't have known that from occasionally observing her at the academy, could he? Or maybe that sense of solidarity came from their similar backgrounds, and he'd known that they'd feel this way? No, she'd better stop entertaining her mind's silly little delusions.
And so little by little, they became entwined in one another like transplanted vines, thrown together and growing rapidly so that they soon became almost indistinguishable from one another, and it was hard to imagine a time when they hadn't been like that. They were more than kindred spirits, more than siblings. Not that either one would ever admit it, of course.
During the war, the only thing they could think about was one another. They'd be fighting back-to-back but still check over their shoulders physically to make sure the other was still conscious, ridiculously as they could clearly feel one another's reiatsu.
Everyone could see it but them, and it was written on their faces as plain as rain on concrete.
It wasn't that she didn't want to be with him. It was as if she was afraid that as soon as she kissed him or held him or told him, he'd get shot in the back by a Quincy arrow, or just dissipate in front of her, another espada impersonating someone she loved. Why wouldn't it be? So she let down her guard, but only to a certain degree.
And he wondered if anyone could fall in love twice. If fortune would twice let his affections be returned. If he wasn't just delusional and falling in love with Hisana's memory all over again, and that he wasn't seeing Rukia. Self-doubt consumed him like a flame consumes paper.
And so they remained in a stalemate, and their friends sighed and figured they'd never get together. They were both too stubborn and insecure, maddeningly so. They were too similar to make a good couple, anyway, some would reason. After all, opposites attract and complement one another. It takes more than love to make a relationship work. And they would shrug and go back to their lives.
And perhaps Byakuya might have withered away this time. It was he who isolated himself, who shut himself away. They ate dinner across the table from one another, but he seemed worlds away. The distance could have made her bitter, but instead she rationalized her own fears. There was no way he could be in love with her if he pushed her away like this, right?
The night felt clear, like a dream would feel. Perhaps, Rukia thought, this was a dream. He wasn't pushing her away so much tonight. They were sitting quietly together, doing paperwork that was surprisingly easy, so why not?
She leaned against his shoulder. He did not move away.
They continued doing the paperwork in silence. His arm gradually made its way around her shoulders, and he pressed her close to him.
Kuchiki Byakuya would do something that he seemed to be doing more and more lately: change his mind. More specifically, he changed his mind about love. He was lucky enough love again, lucky enough to have that love reciprocated. He was not withering away. Love had broken his heart, had instilled fear and doubt and weakness inside him, but it also mended him. Hisana had changed him; Rukia had changed him, too.
Rukia had been more than pleased to find out that she had not been dreaming. Little by little, their relationship progressed and evolved. They knew there was no need to rush, to worry about losing one another. Something just clicked inside of them both, and they were adjusted. They still worried, but not nearly as much. Both were surprised at how quickly and naturally it all happened.
Breathing in Byakuya's scent, Rukia smiled. She pressed her face further into his chest. She'd made her peace with love. His heartbeat rang in her ears, mixed in with the sound of her own blood pumping. Did it even matter whose was whose anymore?
"I love you." He never thought he'd say it again.
"I love you, too." She never thought she'd have someone to say it to.