paths we take Chapter 2: and laugh, a bleach fanfic

paths we take
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
Warnings: pairings, some sexual content, blood
Summary: he can't recall her laughter

A dead body hits the ground, leaving droplets of blood across the ground and he raises his eyes to see her there.

"What makes you think you can simply strike down my opponents without my consent?"

Strangely, he hopes his cold and cutting eyes slice her resolve. But she walks closer until she's stepping over the dead arrancar and three feet away from him. With a solid and bemused appearance, she stills and gazes towards him.

"Oh-ho," she chuckles suddenly, "Such big words now, Bya-bo. Don't be so condescending."

He doesn't answer. The prideful part of him wants to believe she is no longer a part of his life, despite his obsession as a younger man (boy, actually, he was a boy). So he spins his heel and turns to the next opponent in his path.

Within seconds, the arrancar is struck and thrown to the ground brutally before he can take another step. He watches as she speedily thrashes the inferior adversary's head into the hardened sand and hastily guts it bloodily. Her clothes and hands are covered in the blood liquid. Her eyes are in a hard gaze on her task, as a predator in a hurried hunt. It's so fitting for her, he knows, because of all the things he's seen her do, this is where she belongs--free and unmerciful (that's what the bitter part of his believes, what the angry pieces of him says). After the last breath leaves the arrancar, she instantly directs her attention to him.

"Do not ever turn your back on me as I speak to you, Byakuya."

"Big words," he returns, "But I recall you doing the same action a hundred years ago."

In less than a moment, he's in front of her body, his lips against her ear.

"If you expect me to listen to you, then you have thought wrongly."

So close to her skin, he feels her collected aura and shallow breathing, akin to his own. In just a few seconds, he questions their personalities' differences. Are they truely so in contrast to each other, so unequal? It somehow angers him that she's never been direct with him; that everything they do has to be hidden beneath symbols and unending riddles. Byakuya knows it has always irritated her if he did not heed a word she said in the past and he assumes that aspect of her has not changed. Now, as he is barely tuoching her skin, he ponders if she realizes that is something she's done for years: never listening to others. Of a world of blurs and laughs, she is the leader. And all others are simply along for the ride, which is why he knows he has to leave this alone (but he can't, can't because this is unfinished and he hates that).

It'd be so easy to grip her neck and feel the fragility of her body. To know she isn't immortal and he can certainly end her. And the last face she'll see is the face she had left behind and forgotten so long ago. And he honestly is about to bring his hand to her neck but her throaty and whispering voice cuts his contemplative action.

"I never turned my back on you."

Seconds pass and he has no response. Instead, he considers her statement. Never turned her back on him? The urge doesn't come often, but he has to fight the desire to give a snort of disgust. Clearly, she does not see it his way, or else she would understand how much he felt the need to aruge and yell at her until his voice was no more. It would make him feel better, self-assured that he mangaged to show how bitter he is.

Abruply, he feels her gently take strands of his hair in her hands and feel the texture gently. She graps a handful of hair and runs it through her fingers; the touch is so light, it's like wind is merely playing with it. As if seared with unimaginable heat, he rips away and stares incredulously at her.

"Do not touch me, Yoruichi."

"But you've dreamed of it."

And he takes her neck in his hand, holding her at arms length. His stoic expression hides his contempt and animosity towards her words. He finds he cannot hate her. Even if she had turned away from everything and left him. After all these years, there is still a blocked goal to loathe the woman. Byakuya doesn't know what it is because he can't ever hate her appearence, her voice, her touch. But everything she says is a slash of knife against his skin. Perhaps this is how it should be; they never speak to each other ever again. He could live with it. He's lived with other dark things. Why not this?

Her features do not change. They match his mask of apathy. Her cool skin trickles something akin to comfort through his veins. All he can do is stare at the woman, who had left long ago.

"You are not pressing hard enough."

He blinks slowly and doesn't answer. She continues.

"When you grab someone by the neck, you are supposed to draw blood, Byakuya," under his grip, she cocks her head to the side, a thoughtful look taking form. "I taught you that."

"Then perhaps I do not wish to tear your skin."

"Not now, at least," she whispers and lowers her eyelids, breaking their gaze. "Am I right?"

He lets go and pushes her further away. It's bothersome and he needs to get back to Rukia to ensure she is all right. This damn woman here is a distraction and always has been. As he begins to take larger strides, he hears her voice before he starts shunpo.

"I watched you often."

He stills but doesn't turn around.

"You pretended they were all me."

And that's when he leaves.

I want to grow old. You said, yesturday, that you desired to die protecting others, but I didn't believe you. You want the same thing--to die of old age, to die without the setting of darkened skies and raining blood. I know because you hate this life. Byakuya, if we ever make it that far, would you say good-bye to me? Or would life eventaully pull us apart and into these politics and social statuses? Battles and endless techniques? Would you be too busy to say good-bye?

"Kuchiki!"

"Kuchiki-taicho would be better, Ukitake-taicho," Byakuya responds as he turns his full attention on the white-haired man. "What is it you wanted?"

The man offers a smile and hands him a glass of champagne gracefully, "Parties are to be shared in the company of friends. Am I incorrect to say we are friends?" Ukitake's expectant eyes remind Byakuya of years with his grandfather. If his father were still alive, Byakuya knows his personality would have been close to this man in front of him.

Byakuya spares a smirk. Raising the glass, he nods. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Ah, yes," Ukitake turns to look over his shoulder, as if watching for someone to walk towards the two men at any moment. "I was asked if you would give a small speech for--"

"No."

Ukitake quiets after the interruption. Then, he smiles and nods. "I thought you would say that. They didn't believe me."

"Then now you have confirmation."

The older man sighs and begins down the path to the open garden and Byakuya follows absent mindedly. "Your disdain for Yoruichi-san's acceptance to the position has left me with torn feelings."

"How so?"

"I've known the two of you since a small age."

Byakuya frowns slightly. "You are torn because of the different paths we have taken?"

"No," Ukitake ceases his walk and stares forward, thoughtful. "I am torn because it is tiresome to see two people avoid each other like the black plague. Yoruichi doesn't harbor anger like the rest of us--she holds hurt."

Byakuya sniffs. Ukiatake hums.

"It's true." Sighing, the man drinks from his glass and turns to leave, "The celebration is for beginnings, Byakuya. Do not waste tonight on meaningless thoughts."

But Byakuya does anyway.

My heart hurts. As strange and thoughtless as that sounds, it is truth. My life has always centered on demands and motions. I've never stopped to feel my heartbeat, never listened to the thud of others'. It grieves and I know why.

Byakuya ignores Soifon's presence from across the room as he enters his office. The air seems thinner wherever she goes and he's not all that appreciative she's bestowed him this small visit. Renji, next to her, lets his eyes fall to the floor, as if guarded and defeated all at once.

"I have to speak with you."

"I believe you should have thought about that," Byakuya sits at his desk and stares directly at her with undertones of distaste, "before you threatened my lieutenant."

Both are taken aback at the statement. It's truth, he knows, because Renji gives a small sigh, almost enough not to see it and Soifon narrows her eyes more so. There's a tension in the room now and he doesn't bother glaring at her any longer. Instead, he serves this time to sort through the papers Renji was supposed to sift this morning.

"There was no other way to have a meeting with you."

"At least now I can say my lieutenant is faithful towards my orders," Byakuya responds nonchalantly. There's a moment he thinks Renji just chuckled, but he decidedly ignores it. "What do you want, Soifon?"

She tenses visibly and turns to Renji. With a small "Leave us," he is gone in a blur of black and red. Byakuya sighs; he'd would rather have someone witness the possible assault she is probably planning. He knew she'd come to accuse him of something one of these days; it was only a matter of time, considering she's been known to do so in the past to others. He thinks he doesn't really mind, after all. Perhaps this is an opportunity to--

"I want you to apologize to Yoruichi-sama."

The words fly from his mouth before he can fully understand her demand. "For what?"

Soifon appears appalled by the question.

"For whatever it is you did to hurt her," she shifts with a sigh. "You offended her in some way and she hasn't recovered."

He thinks she's acting so childishly. "Yoruichi has always been able. Don't be so irritating over something so trivial."

"You're unbelievable."

She leaves with those words and, if he were anyone else with good humor, he would have laughed.

(But he doesn't.)

Your grandfather proposed the idea of marriage to me yesterday. I can only assume you didn't know of his intentions, or else you would not have acted the same as you always have. After all, I would be marrying you. Instead of the feeling of dread and pending containment of the mere thought of marriage, my heart healed. Just a little.

Two days later, he thinks over Soifon's words. And then he wonders how the description "hasn't recovered" could ever apply to Yoruichi.

So it doesn't bother him, like he thinks it should.

I see you changing every day. It takes all I have not so tell you: "You have it all, you're gonna go far." But you won't listen, so I won't say it.

"You're insane."

Kurosaki's voice cause Byakuya to think of walking the other direction.

"What is it you want?"

Ichigo snorts and leans against the wall, crossing his arms. "Nothing much. Just thought you were stupid as hell."

Byakuya doesn't bother correcting him.

"I mean," Ichigo goes on, "I know you have that dark past, but she was in your life before all that. She would understand, right?"

"Who told?"

Ichigo blinks and then grins. "Well...I'm not sure who told Soifon, but she told Urahara, who told Rukia."

Byakuya makes a note to teach his sibling the meaning of gossip.

"So am I right?"

"No," Byakuya grunts, "you're never right."

"Well...then who is right? You're not. We know that," Ichigo sniffs and pushes off the wall and begins down the hallway. "But if you ask me...it would be Yoruichi."

It's funny, he thinks, because he's always thought that too.

You smiled. Actually smiled. And at me. For a moment, I saw a part of your grandfather in you. Well, yes, you thought it was funny you accidentally spilled tea all over me, but it was amusing in the end. The smile reminds me the feeling of victory after a battle--the soft rush of appreciation and self-achievement.

It's starts off loud and almost obnoxious and fades to a cheerful chirp. As a child, he memorized her laugh, unknowingly. It's followed him and, after her abrupt departure, it had haunted him. Now? It has simply faded to distant memory because, honestly, he doesn't remember how it goes. Like a mother's soft lullaby to her child now forgotten over years being an adult. Consciously, he doesn't care; it's what he calls 'trivial' and something he rarely thinks about. However, under the exterior and within fickle thoughts, it doesn't matter.

And, perhaps, when he spent nights with those frothy women, he had expected that same laugh--had wished to remember each sound and note, relearn what has been lost.

I've learned hearts can be crushed so easily. But it takes a lot to truly hurt one.

Rukia mentions Yoruichi is staying at Urahara's shop again. It's hopeless, he realizes, but he feels as if he's finally being assertive enough to speak something through (he wonders if that just meant closure). So, with great hesitation, he gets permission to step through the gates and enter the world of the living.

She slaps his face the moment he steps onto the ground.

And then she's laughing.

At him.

While caught up in finding humor of his complete shock, she doesn't notice he's actually smiling himself. And, yeah, maybe it's because he never thought she'd stop glaring at him and this is the first she's laughed at him in...years.

"You deserved it, though."

Later, he's surprised he didn't think of telling her how she deserved to be left out in the dust because she hadn't thought twice to do it herself. Instead, he sighs and glances to the ground, just a little distraught.

"I haven't come here to say I'm sorry."

"No," she smirks, "you came to say we're both sorry."

(It's not what people call closure, but it's what Byakuya calls it.)

I'm leaving somewhere. It'll be a long trip. Soifon won't be too happy--she's been trying so hard to be great. And, when I look at you, I see you have too. And, someday--

Byakuya remembers the notes and letters she had written for him long ago and mentions it to her.

"Those old things?" she puts on her sash and looks in the mirror, "Just thoughts I had written down."

He nods and she takes his arm. "Shall we go?"

--I hope you realize I never meant to hurt your heart--nor break it. I've tried since the beginning to build you up into a man. I never realized I could learn from that.

When they are halfway out the door, he comments, "By the way, you never did do it."

She is only half-listening as they head to the party, "Did what?"

"Hurt my heart."

Brushing some hair out of her eyes, he sees her smiling as she says, "Just broke it, huh?"

When he nods again, she holds on tighter to his arm.

--x--

We'll meet again.

--x--

fin

--x--

End part two.

If anyone skipped and didn't get the italics sections, it was from Yoruichi's journals from years ago (which he read a few lines and nothing else, hence the ending).

It'd be nice if people wrote more of this pairing; it's unappriciated.