"But I don't see why I had to come all the way back to Sereitei just to see your damn brother." Ichigo growled as he stalked down the inner courtyard path of the Kuchiki manor. "And if he had wanted to talk to me so fucking badly he should have rolled his noble ass down to Karakura and…" As with all of his big mouthed mistakes, far too late Ichigo considered that the miniature powerhouse pulling him by his wrist might not appreciate the choice words he had used concerning her older brother. He whipped up his arms and braced for the inevitable face crushing impact of her shoe, only to receive a distracted glare instead. He felt a bit foolish really, one foot in the air, arms pulled back in a pose of distress but with no real retaliation imminent. "Fuck! Rukia." Ichigo stated unbelievingly at her lack of response. "Relax," He began again. "It's just a meet and greet. I mean, I fought the guy so we know I can take a Senbonzakura or two. Hell, I dare him to start anything." Ichigo ended emphatically, pumping his fist in the air with a self-satisfied expression.
Rukia groaned and pulled him along faster. "Idiot, don't even think about it. This isn't some alley brawl with the 11th, okay? He requested a meeting like you're some kind of equal and it's freaking the hell out of me! I don't know what my brother wants but you're such an idiot you're probably going to offend him without even noticing. Remember to bow, alright? And don't bring up how you think you beat him."
"But I did! He said so!" Ichigo protested.
Rukia sniffed, "My brother couldn't loose to an idiot like you, he was probably going easy on you. You were trying to save me, after all."
"He was totally trying to kill me!" Ichigo shouted, sending a couple of attendants scurrying out of the way. "There was blood everywhere! He put a fucking hole in my shoulder! When did you two become so buddy-buddy, eh? Last time I checked, he was gonna execute your skinny ass!"
Rukia stopped suddenly, sending Ichigo into a comic defense mode once again, his leg tucked up in a desperate attempt to ward her off. Yanking open the sliding door in front of them, Rukia grabbed his wrist and whispered. "If you mess this up I will kill you, Ichigo. You hear me? I will bury you… and remember to bow." With one hard yank she tossed him through the threshold.
Ichigo glared back at her and grunted noncommittally. He couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing that he could say to her in front of her brother, anyway. Despite his bravado, Ichigo considered himself smart enough to never want to be on the wrong side of Byakuya without a goddamned good reason. Like if he ever tried any of that murdering his own sister shit again or something. So he kept his mouth shut as she slid the door closed after him with a soft click.
"Welcome, Kurosaki Ichigo." Byakuya intoned from the far side of the room.
"Dead in the ground!" Ichigo heard Rukia hiss from the opposite side of the door.
Ichigo bowed. "Hey Byakuya."
Both heard a groan of anguish from outside.
"You may leave, Rukia," Byakuya announced in icy tones as he set down his ink brush and stood from his desk. "Kurosaki and I will take a walk through the garden, see that we are not disturbed."
As Rukia murmured a quick assent from through the door, Ichigo was not as silent. As he rose from his modest bow he caught a glimpse of the man who had requested his presence and burst out in a laugh that shook the walls. "Oh God! Ha! What the hell-" Laughed Ichigo, tears streaming down his face, "What the hell are you wearing?" He had never seen anything more ridiculous. Ample fabric of shimmering white silk was broken by intricately arranged cherry blossoms and branches on a delicately green background, cut again by elegantly embroidered red birds in perpetual combat on a whirling wind of deep blue. The Kuchiki family crest was nestled subtly in the center of every blossom, every tail feather, and every last curl of wind. The level of detail made Ichigo's fingers ache but the overall effect made his sides feel as if they would burst.
"Does my attire amuse you, Kurosaki Ichigo?" Byakuya frowned ever so slightly. "It has been some years since I wore this particular piece, but I was unaware that it had gone out of style. Nonetheless, I would appreciate it if you refrained from being so loud with your criticism. Not only is it quite rude, but Rukia will think I am being unkind if she hears your barbaric screams from the other side of the manor."
Ichigo gasped for air and clapped a hand over his mouth, sputtering. When he could let go without letting loose an earth shaking holler, he hiccupped out an apology. "That's- That is- ha!- I'm sorry Byakuya, I-it's very pretty- ha ha- gorgeous!" Ichigo choked again and decided it was best if he stopped there as the praise was damning enough and managed to keep his mouth shut.
It was springtime in Soul Society, Ichigo now noticed as he and Byakuya strolled slowly over the immaculately placed cobble stones. It seemed as if every plant around them was a breath away from full bloom. He supposed he hadn't noticed before as he had been too busy running pell-mell all over Soul Society and getting cut up more than any man would prefer, except for Kenpachi he guessed. But now the breeze was rather nice and the cherry trees had just put out their first blooms, which only managed to remind Ichigo exactly what he was walking beside. Letting out a soft cascade of barely suppressed chuckles, he looked over at the silent Byakuya and hazarded a sentence. "Seriously Byakuya, how long did it take some guy to make that? It's really… well done." Ichigo forced out. He would have rather mentioned how incredibly girly it looked or how formal and completely pretentious all those crests were. Sure, maybe it would have been a snazzy outfit more centuries ago than Ichigo could guess but honestly, a chick could have worn it to her wedding reception. The mental image nearly sent him into more laughter, but he restrained himself…barely.
Somewhat mollified after Ichigo's attempt to smooth his insults over with feigned interest, Byakuya's lips, pressed into thinness by aggravation, managed to pry themselves apart and reply in a congenial fashion. After all, Byakuya said to himself, the boy is a ryoka. His rudeness should be no surprise. "This piece has belonged to the Kuchiki family for many, many generations, Kurosaki Ichigo. I do not know how long it took to create, but it is undoubtedly the finest work of a master of his craft. But I did not invite you here to talk fashion."
"Yeah," Ichigo interrupted, "I figured that. Weekends are pretty precious, you know. I hadn't planned on wasting one of them with…" As he spoke, a wind blew and rattled the tree branches, shaking out a rasping sound. (If pressed, Ichigo would have later described the sound as "wssshhhhhckckck-deeeaaddiiiinnthhhegroouuuund-shshshsssww") But for the moment he said nothing more than, "Er... I mean. I'm glad I got to waste my weekend here with you?" Ichigo paused, and feeling no more wind, sighed in relief while Byakuya stared at him with veiled confusion and obvious amusement.
"I asked you here, Kurosaki, to formally thank you for taking care of Rukia during her unfortunate delay in the living world. That you provided a place for her to stay and meals obliges me to you somewhat." Here Byakuya paused, "As well as for that later trouble."
"Which trouble? When you let Renji touch her in Karakura or when you bastards let her beg for me and my friend's lives at her big ol' execution?"
So that's how this conversation was going to go. Cover up the stink with some perfumed pleasantries and choice wording like "unfortunate delay" and "later trouble". To even bring up that night and not apologize. Where was Zangetsu when a man needed to be taken down a notch or two?
Byakuya felt stung. "You seem to be mistaken. I did not invite you here to submit to further abuses from a ryoka. That is not how a Kuchiki repays a debt."
"I don't want your money, if that's what you're getting at."
"Hardly."
"Good."
"Yes."
"Would you stop that?"
"What is it Kurosaki?"
"You're dragging that silk monstrosity all over the dirt."
"It is designed to drag."
"I don't care what it's designed for. Some poor shmuck is going to have to clean that tonight! He'll work his fingers raw!"
"Honestly, Kurosaki, I think I can handle my own wardrobe."
"Hell, what do you want from me? Did you invite me here to torture me? This is torture. I give up! Name your price for my sweet release from this weird, crazy conversation."
Byakuya responded stiffly. "I had planned on a congenial walk through the grounds followed by tea, but if your haste knows no bounds, we may settle this at once. Kurosaki Ichigo, what are your intentions toward my sister?"
"Whaaat?"
"You are certainly not worthy of her, but your conduct has been admirable as far as the information I have gathered can attest to. Although, she has been willfully silent in some suspect areas."
"Wait. No. What. Information? No. Um. Admirable, really? I mean, No? Yes! No. What?"
"I admit, your staunch defense of her against all others, including myself, is the greatest credit to your claim."
"My claim??"
"However, now that she has been returned to my care, I expect the courtship to proceed in a more proper manner. I have assigned a manservant to you to facilitate in any questions concerning proper behavior. You may treat him as your own, but remember there is honor and duty to be upheld concerning any subordinate."
"No! Ah, what? No, definitely no manservant."
Byakuya shook his head. This boy was so hard to understand, even more so than the unrefined dialect that he insisted on using. "You must take on a teacher to learn the proper ways. I will not have you embarrass her!" At this pronunciation, reiatsu spiked sharply and for the barest of moment the garden became thick as a swimming pool.
"Fine! Fine! Just let me go home!"
"As you wish Kurosaki Ichigo, I will send him to you shortly."
Ichigo beat as quick of an exit to the manor entrance as possible, muttering quick goodbyes and a halfhearted a thank you before collapsing dazedly.
"Ichigo? Why are you in the street?" Renji looked past piles of paperwork as he poked a listless Ichigo with his toe. "Oi, What's got you? What are you doing outside Captain Kuchiki's place?"
"I think I just got kinda engaged. " Ichigo murmured flatly, legs splayed out haphazardly.
"Hell, I kind of wondered if the Captain had a thing for you maybe, but I never made you out as… well…"
"No. To Rukia. I think I just got Byakuya's fucking blessing." Ichigo stated, eyes full of bottomless despair.
Papers showered around him, large hands grasped at his neck.
"What the hell did you just say?" Renji shouted wildly, his voice rising to a panicked squeak before bolting for the Kuchiki manor. "Rukia! Rukia! Don't marry him! Don't marry that idiot! Oh God. Marry me!"
Rukia paused between sips of her tea. What was that ruckus and who was shouting? The servants had said Ichigo had just left so…
Renji burst through the open window, his hands on her shoulders franticly twitched. "Don't Marry Ichigo! Don't let your brother set you up with that guy!"
Rukia blinked and sniffed. "Is this some sort of joke, Renji? There's a door you know, jackass."
"It's true," Byakuya intoned as he strode through said door. "Although I am prepared to rescind my blessing at the slightest misstep from the boy. "And Renji? Remove your hands."
Rukia looked slowly between the two men, mouth closing and opening in a silent sputter. "Whaaaaaaat?"
On any other day, the servants might have tisked at all the noise in the manor but they were all far too busy adjusting their betting pool to include some strange new orange-haired boy. Rumors about his appearance were roaring through all levels of sereitei and exciting many speculations concerning his origins.
The newly calculated betting odds were sent by messenger to the 5th and 13th division immediately. This ryoka was certainly a strong contender for marriage after today's events, they whispered, but Lord Kuchiki himself remained a strong favorite especially among the older servants who remembered his young wife. Head Servant Miwa Akiko oversaw the dispatch personally, writing in one last name, dismal odds, and one modest wager:
Hanataro Yamada.