Chapter 1
They say a black cat is never a good sign...
... Or something like that. It is something Kuchiki Byakuya once heard, many years ago, and he is surprised that he can at least recall that much - usually he never remembers things he cannot - does not want to - understand.
He, for one, will never understand humans and their silly superstitions. It is not as if the appearance of a dark-furred animal - a cat, he thinks, no less - will actually decide one's fate. What, then, if the black cat happened to be walking past and you had not seen it? Or, perhaps, that it was not a cat but you merely imagined it to be? And of course, there were so many black cats around at any one time, and so many people to see them, that one would think the entire Human World had to be in a state of perpetual misery.
He shakes his head slightly, eyes closed. Humans have no sense at all. It is no wonder that they are far inferior to Shinigami.
It's the beginning of a important mission in the Human World with Renji. His fukutaichō seems excited - this is the first time he has called upon to complete missions in the Human World - and Byakuya wonders how he will break the news to him. Already he's had his subordinate exclaim loudly to him, with a goofy grin on his face, about the wonder of those moving stairs the humans called 'escalators'. Twice. They've received many suspicious looks as a result, and he's had to give Renji a look to shut him up properly.
It works - at least for a while, but it's not a few minutes later that Renji discovers the electric elevator.
"Taichō! Check this out!"
This might go on for a while.
He heads outside, trying to get a better chance at detecting his subject's reiatsu, when almost on cue, he spots a black cat. It's a sleek, golden-eyed thing, and it slinks around a corner, disappearing almost immediately out of sight.
Is it just his imagination, or does a sliver of reiatsu escape from its tail and drift away on the wind?
Being wise enough - despite the many objections of his elders - to have connections in the Human World, he is able to make a few calls, and soon enough, be settled in relatively well.
Renji is gawping at the glittering monstrosity of the chandelier hanging in the lobby of the building that they are to take residence in. The only comfort that Byakuya has is that hopefully, this will be a short mission. In and out. Nothing too troublesome.
His heart tries to beat faster, the voice in his mind telling him that he doesn't want to do this - the ultimate act of betrayal. His rational side, however, reminds that this mission came directly from Central 46, and the last thing he wants to do is upset the law and order in Soul Society.
He's sworn his life to it.
Would she have agreed with him? He can visualize her smile, like the fleeting graze of cherry blossom petals against his mind.
Hisana... I have to. It is my life's mission.
He tries to stop thinking about her, but the image of her slight figure, sitting alone under a tree in the garden, floats back to him. The way she looked up at him then, features soft and rounded in the dawn light.
"Yes, Byakuya-sama?"
He takes a moment to admire her. She is a beautiful woman, the epitome of what a noble lady should be should be, despite being born in Rukongai. She's been poorly, though, and the winter has not been forgiving.
She coughs, slightly. He is instantly crouched down beside her, his hand steadying her, and she puts a delicate hand to her rosebud lips, turned pale by the frost.
"You must take care of yourself, Hisana," he scolds, but his gaze is gentle.
Her soft, amused laugh seems to find the look of concern on his face adorable.
"I will do as you wish, Byakuya-sama. Please, do not worry about me. I only continue to make my humble request."
He knows what is coming; she has been dreaming of her sister since summer.
Rukia.
The sister she left behind, the one she has been spending her life finding.
And he has sworn, too, that he will find her.
It is all the love he can give Hisana.
The only problem now is that he is not sure how exactly to tell his lieutenant what they're after on this mission, especially since Central 46 specifically asked him to join his captain on the mission.
Normally, Byakuya operates alone, but this time, his second-in-command is not giving him a second of rest.
They've gone a whole day just to get Renji used to his gigai, though secretly Byakuya has been on the lookout for the telltale reiatsu signatures of his subject.
Even I can't sense anything... Where is she hiding?
And, of course, Renji wants to celebrate his first day in the Human World, in the human way, something he's picked up from Matsumoto-fukutaichō. He calls it ice-cream.
Soon they are walking back towards their lodging for the duration of the mission, somewhere along the trailing banks of the large river that runs through this town. His vice-captain walks slightly behind him, usually obnoxious drawl muted by the sweet, pineapple-flavoured confection that is occupying a great deal of the mobility of his teeth and tongue.
Perhaps, Byakuya thinks, if it will shut his fukutaichō up, even temporarily, he should restock on more of this ice-cream.
He tilts his head back for a second. There is no moon, and the stars glitter like cats' eyes.
You, too, have left me alone.
He sees the cat again, right at the end of the road. It appears from the shadows of a dark alley, recognizable by those queer, intelligent eyes, and the streetlamps on the main road reflect the light of those two glittering amber gemstones, set into its head. The glare of the moon on its fur is the only thing that distinguishes it from the darkness pooling at the mouth of the alley.
It regards him, its eyes alert and knowing. He stares back, for a moment. Their eyes connect. Then it blinks, long and slow, and with a whip of its tail, disappears.
He hesitates for a second. Should he follow?
"Renji... You will head back to your lodgings first. I shall join you shortly."
"Hai, taichō!"
Byakuya walks into the alley, utterly alone.
The walls on either side rise up high, and from where he is only a small sliver of the sky is visible.
The only light comes from a lone streetlamp. Its glow paves a gradient of yellow into grainy darkness, swallowing his tread every step of the way in. It is dark and damp in the alley, and the moonlight glistens like spilled blood over small puddles.
Something splashes, a couple of feet ahead from where he is. His sandals make almost imperceptible ripples in the dank water.
Drip.
Drip.
He reaches the end of the alley - a high, unyielding brick wall on which hangs a machine that thrums monotonously, the blades inside its metal casing whirring.
Nothing.
To his credit, he does hang around for a few more seconds, then, finally deciding that there is nothing more worth to pursue, prepares to turn, and rejoin his fukutaichō - preferably before the fiery young man, with a temperament to match his hair, breaks something expensive.
He does not even have time to register the rush of wind that accompanies his hair slipping free in a wave down his shoulders, nor the laugh that sounds from somewhere behind him, light and clear like a spring wind.
When he does turn around, though, he is greeted by a pair of slender legs that join at a pair of hips. Those curve upwards, following his gaze past arms crossed under ample breasts to an all-too familiar face.
Shihōin Yoruichi grins, stark naked.
"Long time no see, Byakuya-bō."
It is as if someone has taken a mad mongrel to his heart.
He slides his lids shut, then opens them, simultaneously getting rid of any traces of the look on his face - Surprise? Anger? Relief? Yearning?
She's supposed to be dead.
She's supposed to be dead.
A hot wind swirls inside him. It feels like his own sword has turned against him, and the ribbons of his soul are blowing away on the wind. He wants to grab her, to kiss her senseless to run fingers along cool skin that his fingertips have not touched in over a century. He wants to make sure she's real, that she's here and has always been here.
His silence appears to worry her.
"Byakuya?" she asks, her smile slipping as she steps forward. "Are you-"
He charges her, sword wildly flashing through the air. He's never wanted to cut someone into pieces this badly, and it shows - the emotions have turned into a silver fire, blazing with reiatsu across his blade.
Anyone else! Had it been anyone else, there wouldn't even be enough pieces of them to fill a stingy innkeeper's saké jug.
But no, she's Yoruichi, fluid as a leaf dancing on the wind, and she dodges each of his uncalculated attacks.
His sword spins through the air as she catches his wrist, burying itself in the brickwork high above his head. Unfazed, he just keeps on going, resorting to the unarmed close combat techniques as used by the Onmitsukidō. She easily blocks those, too, as if they were the flailing blows of a child's tantrum, and responds with palm strikes of her own.
The first catches him in the side of the head, but only serves to spur him on, like a maddened bull in the arena; the second, however, catches him in the solar plexus - he goes down like a sack of potatoes, winded, eyes wide enough to show their silvery irises.
A blur of wind. Then she is standing above him, her hand outstretched, offering him his sword. She pouts as he takes the handle, still kneeling, breathing hard. "I thought you'd be happy to see me, Byakuya."
The resounding silence drifts through the air like gasoline fumes. He stares. Just stares incredulously. And then-
"YOU'RE. SUPPOSED. TO. BE. DEAD!" He yells, running at her again, punctuating each word with a wild, uncoordinated swing, and he hates it - hates that even now, he can't be in perfect control of his body or his mind. He feels like a hundred years ago again - a little boy, irrational.
She dodges easily, and he lets out a yell and attacks with added ferocity. He doesn't even bother to activate his shikai. Blind rage takes over.
"SO STAY DEAD!"
She is at the very least decent enough to let him wear himself out, until he's breathless, panting, leaning against the wall.
Then she approaches.
"Byakuya..." The trail of her voice is tentative.
"Clothe. Yourself." He looks up at her face, watches the confusion swirl across the beautiful features.
"I said, clothe yourself."
It's all he can do to keep his voice from trembling as he says this.
In response, looking slightly uncertain, she slowly unfurls his expensive scarf in one liquid motion, drapes it haphazardly about her shoulders, and the material slips against her skin, light on dark.
His breath catches despite himself, the fingers of a chill laddering down his spine. He squeezes his eyes shut; refuses to look at her, all the promises she entails.
...
Even after all this time... She's beautiful.
...
He opens his eyes again, forcing himself to meet her gaze.
The kenseikan go into her hair; she smiles, more confident now, showing white teeth.
Tease.
He buries his head in his hand, only now realizing how tired he is after an outburst unlike any other he's had in a hundred years, and a few seconds later she is beside him, hovering beside him, close, but not enough to touch.
"Byakuya?" she tries again, her voice shifting to a low purr.
He doesn't answer her, but waits till he has composed himself enough, then stands, lifting his sword. His face is a mask of cold.
She smiles when she meets his gaze, but the look on her face seems pained.
"I missed you too, Byakuya," she says quietly.
Does she think that it would be as easy to gain his forgiveness, just like that?
Does she-
Don't look like that. I don't want you to ever look like that again.
The tip of his sword quivers, ever so slightly, and then he lowers it, and turns, his haori flung out behind him, and sweeps out of the alley, not caring that his clean white tabi are stained by the puddles of dirty water that his sandals splash into.
He barely registers the flash that announces that she's sped past him; she stands in his way, her arms spread wide, barring his path.
"Move," he snaps, keeping his voice low, yet, with the Kuchiki resonance that sets it ringing through the alley.
I want nothing to do with you.
She stands her ground, though she flinches like she's been dealt a slap. He is surprised. The look in her eyes is... Determined. Resolute.
His heart betrays him first; his stance drops. He feels like an old man.
She is at his side now, and her fingertips brush his shoulder, though her movements suggest caution, as if she is a startled cat, afraid that he will explode again.
He does nothing.
She flings herself onto him.
The embrace is a hundred shades of awkward, of raw, untempered feeling. It rolls off her in waves, and dashes onto the cliffs of his being. She buries her face into his shoulder, her arms tight around him.
It can't say everything that needs to be said, can't fill the absence of a hundred years. It doesn't have all the nuances of words. It isn't even the slightest bit comfortable.
And maybe, just maybe, that's the reason he doesn't push her off.
When she finally lets go, he makes his stance clear.
"Do not think this changes anything, Shihōin demon."
The words have exactly the opposite effect on her, though. The glimmer in her eyes is back again; that same old look she would get a second before she would steal his hair tie, so many years ago; the look that she'd give him before she would transform back into a human and he'd have to shield his eyes, his face turning red (though admittedly he would always peek.)
"Tell you what, Byakuya." That lilt in her voice is back again.
"I am listening." He sighs.
"You do want these back, right?" She gestures to his scarf, still draped about her shoulders. Miraculously, it hasn't been stained by the puddles of rancid water in the floor yet, and it gleams as her body shifts in the moonlight.
"Yes." He can tell where this is going.
"Well, you're going to have to catch me, then!"
He shakes his head. "You can't be serious."
She grins. "Sure I am. There's dinner in it for you, too!"
Well, why not, he figures.
It's been a long day.