Giving the small cup with its pre-boiled water a blank stare, Byakuya sets it aside carefully on the low table top and folds his hands in his lap instead. He's chosen a somewhat deserted area for this small break and consequently, there are at least three tables between him and the nearest visitors. He doesn't hold any hopes, however, that the luxury of personal space will last for long - during the viewing season, the gardens of Kitano Tenmangu are quite busy with guests and at this moment, he's just one out of many. Somewhere off to his right, a family with two small children are settling down for teas and sweets and along the trails leading to and from the gardens, people come and go steadfastly, a seemingly never-ending stream of disturbances.
Evidently, if he must have any regrets, he needs to go back to the moment he'd agreed to Renji's idea about visiting Kyoto for the sake of getting close to practice - theoretically, they're to swap places tomorrow and then evaluate but already, the idea seems asinine and unworthy of any further deliberation.
Byakuya hasn't visited Kyoto since before his captaincy. Time has brought no improvements to the city, as far as he's concerned.
The temple grounds, at least, he can stomach. The maple trees are objectively beautiful, a sea of red and orange flowing across the pathways, taking up the air, the bright space between ground and sky. If he leaves his gigai somewhere none-too-unfortunate, perhaps he can cheat and simply stay here for the night - or return earlier than planned, if he finds himself somehow unable to humour Renji any further which is not... an unlikely scenario, really, considering the place he's been booked to sleep for his stay.
[ Tanaka had insisted they went here, it was her idea and Ichigo had warned her, she'd take the blame if it turned out a disaster with their small group of American exchange students who, if you asked Ichigo, were probably more into the whole Kyoto-idea for the Gion districts and maybe to take a selfie in front of Fushimi Inari Taisha than some lesser known local temple, but since Tanaka had been really eager about the excursion, Ichigo had let her take the lead on it. He was only here for the extra points to his grades, anyway.
In the end, he'd give her that much, Kitano Tenmangu hadn't been too bad an idea. Between Jamie, Gil and Liz, maybe Liz was the one who'd embraced the setting with the most excitement, but both Jamie and Gil had been amenable enough. They'd made their way through the temple grounds and now, they're on their way back towards the exit, Jamie walking on Ichigo's right and Tanaka on his left, boxing him in well and truly, huh.
He knows what they're both on about, right? It's getting to be a real pain in the ass.
They're passing by some benches with appertaining tables when Ichigo catches a glimpse of something that looks familiar in an honestly gut-wrenching way and his head snaps to the side, staring at what does really prove to be Kuchiki Byakuya sitting peacefully at the bench farthest away, definitely in a gigai and with a cup of purchased tea in front of him.
Ichigo doesn't believe it. What the hell...
Drawing slowly to a halt, letting the other four get ahead of him, he just stares at the other man for a moment, his heart beating fast in his chest. What is Byakuya doing here? Is something --
Up ahead, Tanaka notices that he's fallen behind and turns towards him with an inquiring, Kurosaki-kun, that he doesn't respond to beyond waving his hand at all of them, as they're now just standing there and looking at him, collectively. ]
You just go ahead, I'll catch up later, it's back to the hotel after this, yeah?
[ Without waiting for a confirmation, because Ichigo knows he doesn't remember it wrong, he crosses over to where Byakuya is sitting, his steps a little too fast. Is something -- Stopping right in front of the other man, Ichigo looks down at him, hands curled into fists at his sides. ]
Byakuya. Is something wrong?
[ As far as greetings go, Ichigo could do worse. Granted, he could probably also do a lot better. ]
[ When crossing town to get to the temple, Ichigo and the others had passed by this nice tea place just a couple of streets out of the doors of their hotel. They hadn't stopped for tea at the time, because they were on a schedule (Tanaka insisted, Ichigo leaving the headache up to her), but he'd called it to mind when seeing Byakuya's abandoned tea cup earlier. That's why he'd asked.
Now they're here. Sitting opposite each other on pillows at one of the small, low leg tables, Byakuya with matcha in his cup and Ichigo, not really feeling like tea, having placed an order for hot chocolate, something that had made the girl behind the counter flush slightly. Chocolate, she'd said, so you must like sweet things.
I like chocolate, Ichigo had replied.
The cup is pretty big and full of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. He stirs it with his long, golden spoon slowly, glancing over at Byakuya without saying anything. It's dawned on him somewhere on the way between there and here, that he honestly doesn't know Byakuya that well. For someone whose intestines he's seen on full display - and he still swallows slightly at the memory, right, he knows little else about him. except that sight. That moment.
That, and how Renji's sent him to Kyoto today or all days. Really. ]
Renji must be doing all right, if he's bossing you around to the World of the Living.
[ Raising his gaze, Ichigo meets Byakuya's eyes, thinking the tone of his voice, neutral, inquiring, makes up for the directness of his words. Rukia would hit him, if she heard him talk this way to Byakuya, but he thinks the man might understand things more rationally. If nothing else, he doesn't look at himself with hearts in his eyes, it seems.
[ The tea shop is quite small, though there's enough distance between the tables to afford an illusion of privacy that Byakuya appreciates. He rarely goes out like this - with Rukia sometimes, yes, on special occasions but even now, with their relationship being as it is, those times are still few and far between. He looks around at the other visitors, at the decor, without turning his head, managing to be discreet about it only through years and years of ingrained habit. Overall, whilst not exactly reverent, the mood in the shop is quiet and respectful. People are following no particular rules concerning tea but they aren't talking loudly either. It's fine.
Opposite him, Ichigo has chosen to drink... hot chocolate, apparently. He's quite certain he would have never guessed him to be the type to choose such a drink when he'd faced him on the battle field and the few times he's seen him under other circumstances... no. It's oddly innocent. Again, he's reminded of the flowers, the vase, the bench. Ichigo, stance rigid and tense, having picked only the least impressive flowers in the garden.
His expression actually tightens maybe half a fraction at Ichigo's word choice, though. Bossing around, like he wouldn't just ignore something like that if it happened at all - which it doesn't. But on the other hand, if he's being honest with himself (and he tries to be these days), he's not here in Kyoto because he desperately wanted to be, is he? He's here because Renji is not just his second in command - he's Rukia's husband and Byakuya's brother in his own way and gone are the days when he'd shoot down Renji's suggestions just to watch the man crawl his way back into the dirt.
Swallowing, he looks down at his tea. ]
They are both doing fine.
[ He frowns, considering. Then, glancing back up at Ichigo, he just brings it up; if nothing else, the man is a trusted friend to both of them: ]
You haven't been informed?
[ It seems a ridiculous notion to even consider. Surely, Ichigo would be the first to know. Surely, he'd know before Byakuya, at any rate, who's been much less of a brother to Rukia. ]
[ It's late in the afternoon when they head back to their respective hotels - Ichigo, apparently, is staying not too far from where Renji's booked him in which is obviously something that will never, ever happen again in any conceivable reality. The booking, that is, not the coincidental proximity. That part, he... can't be too certain of, actually, at this point in time. They'd finished their visit to the tea shop on a quiet but comfortable note and by rights, Byakuya should have no trouble at all, simply focusing on other things, on what comes next in this assignment. Because half-brained and undercooked as it is, it is an assignment and he should have something prepared for tomorrow when they switch places, him and Renji, yet all the data he's managed to collect pertain to Ichigo and his mind, for some reason, isn't entirely willing to put what he knows aside and recalibrate.
Perhaps a night at this awful excuse for a hotel will get his mind back on track. He pauses, leaving Ichigo to change his own step as he wishes, to stare down the small, derelict passage towards the dark, shabby building hiding near the end of the alleyway. It looks exactly as decrepit on the inside and from the roof, a strange light keeps blinking on and off behind blocked-out windows. He'd thought, perhaps a night club of some kind - but he's heard no music or seen no visitors coming or going.
Either way, yes, he'll have clarity or his gigai will be stolen for something utterly depraved like organ harvesting. An either-or situation, surely.
Sighing, he puts his hands in his pockets. The sounds of traffic and pedestrians from the main street make him feel restless, which doesn't improve his mood or his opinion on this whole situation. It's rather like having a barrage of flies buzzing around one's ears. ]
Perhaps the temple gardens would be preferable.
[ If nothing else, the maple leaves truly were a beautiful sight. Even at night, even if it rains, he's certain he'd rather have a soggy leaf landing on his nose than whatever might descend from above in that hotel. ]
[ It kinda ended on a quiet note. After finishing tea, or half his hot chocolate, as far as Ichigo was concerned, they walked back to their hotels, that they'd accidentally discovered were situated pretty close to each other. Ichigo hadn't recognised the name of the hotel Byakuya was gonna stay at, but honestly, the amount of hotels in Kyoto - if lain down side by side, they'd reach into Soul Society, no problem.
Now, he realizes, standing next to a very tired-looking Byakuya, why the hotel name didn't ring any bells. It's crap. An utter shit place, are you kidding him? He looks for a long time from the hotel facade that looks rotten and inside it's probably even worse to Byakuya and back again.
What the hell was Renji thinking? That place has, like, one star at the most and doesn't Byakuya have, like, all the money in the world to find a stupid hotel for? Ichigo blinks, then he blinks again.
Then, he straightens up and rolls both shoulders, sighing loudly, audibly. ]
Really.
[ Turning to Byakuya, he looks up into his face, raising his chin to make sure the other man isn't gonna argue with him for his petty principles' sake. In this hotel, even principles can't survive. Should they live, they'd still get scabies, right? ]
You're sleeping with me tonight. No way I can allow you to go any closer to that rat's nest.
[ The suite isn't huge, they're university students, not millionaires, but the quality is good and it's overlooking the street, so you get the sense of city lights and life outside. Ichigo liked that the first night he spent here. Watching Byakuya as he readies the bed, he wonders absent-mindedly whether he will like it, too.
The color scheme of the interior is kept simple, black with some blue accents to break up the monotony, though the room still feels pretty dark. Sombre.
Ichigo is spreading out his duvet and pillow on the couch which is just about long enough that he can lie there with his feet tugged up a little, not his favourite sleeping position, but he isn't picky either. Demanding. You try having two younger sisters climbing into your bed at midnight and insist on your favourite sprawl. Good freakin' luck.
As his hands work, tightening up the sheet he's wrapped over the couch, Ichigo is too aware of Byakuya behind him for some reason. And he's aware in some strange way he doesn't recognise, too. Kinda like a connect, part of him knowing a part of Byakuya, something like that. He doesn't like it and definitely didn't ask for it, right?
Suddenly, completely out of the blue, he remembers the vase Byakuya got for him, back at the Kuchiki Mansion, how he'd let him arrange his tiny bouquet in that. Ichigo wonders...
He wonders... ]
Hey, Byakuya. How long did you leave out the flowers for my mom?
[ It doesn't hurry, that question. Ichigo asks it with calmness and consideration.
[ As they'd drawn nearer and nearer to the hotel, Byakuya had considered the logistics of getting Renji to book him in, rather than occupy Ichigo's own room - practically, it wouldn't be much of an issue. On a different level, however, he would have to leave Renji flustered and uncomfortable with the knowledge that he'd done a bad job at preparing for what had been his own project to begin with. It seems the kind of discussion he'd prefer to have with him in person to avoid unnecessary dramatics, really.
Also, to avoid Rukia ever hearing about it at all.
Consequently, he'd ended up letting things happen until now, they're on the way to bed, Ichigo preparing to sleep on that, frankly, unacceptable couch (Byakuya had taken the chance to feel it out with his hand when Ichigo had been in the bathroom and promptly made another decision with regards to the bed). The bed is much more appropriate - it's too tall for his tastes but the mattress is fine and the sheets are... synthetic, yes, but they'll do for the night.
His borrowed hotel standard nightdress is equally synthetic but surely, certainly, it beats whatever would have awaited him in that hotel room down the seedy alleyway. He's content, if not particularly comfortable. Thus, he's getting into bed, taking up exactly one side of the bed and nothing more, when Ichigo asks him about his mother's flowers.
He brushes his hair away from his face. ]
They wilted within a day or two. [ He glances sideways at Ichigo. Then, he promptly glances away again because the man honestly isn't wearing much and he's got enough to ponder on his own when he gets home without adding to the chaos. ] My servants exchanged them for spider lilies. Hopefully, you won't mind.
[ He's not asking, exactly. But he'd made an assumption with regards to the small vase and the flowers, the bench that has now become a shrine in its own right. If Ichigo doesn't want that for his mother, he's in his rights to refuse. ]
[ He comes awake quickly, with an urgency that he doesn't immediately understand. Blinking heavily, Byakuya glances towards the door, first (closed), then the windows. Though the hotel room is mostly shrouded in darkness, here and there streaks of citylight sneak in through gaps in the blinds. It leaves the hotel floor crawling with shadows in odd shapes and sizes and for a moment, his gaze just tracks them mindlessly.
He thinks, Senbonzakura, then realises that he hasn't been dreaming at all.
Also, he's in the world of the living in a gigai, sleeping next to --
Breath catching in his throat, he turns his head just in time to hear his own name muttered into the stillness, a low murmur spoken with such desperation that he's certain it would have been a shout if Ichigo hadn't been fast asleep. He turns onto his side, pulling his hair out of his face. The other man is twisting and turning, face scrounched up in distress. And there, again, his name.
It's not too difficult to imagine what he might be dreaming about.
For a moment, he considers leaving Ichigo to his nightmares, to spare him the indignity of coming awake in such a mental state. On the other hand, however... well. Must he suffer so stubbornly, even whilst asleep? Surely, he can fight his way uninterrupted through his nightmares any other nights, when he's alone in his bed but tonight... Eyes narrowing, he shifts onto his elbow, prepares to defend himself from any flying fists and grabs onto Ichigo's shoulder, shaking him firmly. ]
[ It's always the same memories, and they aren't even memories anymore, they're developing beyond what he remembers. What he knows to be the truth.
In his dreams, he sees all of them, but worse, slain, dead. Rukia torn to pieces by her own fear. Renji... just torn to pieces. Chad, cut down. Inoue with a gaping wound in her chest. But in his dreams... he walks by each and every one of them, recognising that they're beyond saving, that he can't save them, that he couldn't, running towards the part of Seireitei where he feels Byakuya's reiatsu, still wavering, blinking, but there. And he's flash stepping, he's running on air, and even so he's too late.
The other man is in pieces when he arrives, torn to shreds, it's a freaking wonder he even has a mouth to speak through. And Ichigo calls for him, moving closer, closer, but his voice sounds far away. Forgive me, Byakuya says. I'm deeply ashamed, and Ichigo calls again --
Wake up. Ichigo, says Byakuya, then, in his dream. In a stronger voice, so it isn't in his dream and Ichigo feels the visuals slip out of his grasp and for some reason that only makes him more desperate.
The memory is all he has. When they're gone. Rukia. Renji. Chad. Inoue.
Byakuya.
Wake up. Ichigo.
Ichigo sits up with a suppressed yell, having practiced staying silent so as not to wake his sisters, chest heaving, cold sweat clinging to his brow as he grasps the sheets with both hands, feeling the weight of something on his shoulder only faintly, like it's through a filter, a fog. Still trying to catch his breath, he looks down. Byakuya's hand is holding him firmly. Byakuya's hand isn't letting go.
He's alive.
They're both alive.
Blinking the tears back, Ichigo mutters, turning his face away, voice thick: ]
It's fine. Sorry for waking you, just go back to sleep.
[ What the tears caught in his eyelashes say, is please. ]
[ He wakes up in the exact same position he fell asleep in. Ichigo is lying mostly on top of him, drooling into his hair in a way that should be entirely off-putting but somehow isn't and Byakuya sighs to himself, resisting the urge to nudge his cheek against his forehead. There must be a limit somewhere, though he isn't truly feeling it - all he can really think about is Ichigo's scent and taste still clinging to his tongue. He wants more of it. It's ridiculous and unbecoming and not just because he's supposed to be on a mission (that part, he can't really be bothered with - he took in the sights, that's enough data on modern Kyoto by far in his opinion).
Yet, he actually falls asleep for another half hour like that, warm and pleasantly drowsy. When he wakes up again, he has to get up - either that, or suffer the indignity of being late to work for the first and only time in his entire career. He wouldn't care overly much, except he's meeting with Renji who's going to think that he's fallen off a cliff somewhere and possibly died. It won't do.
It won't, though he wouldn't mind being a bit more selfish.
Trying to be gentle about it, he shifts away from beneath Ichigo, brushing his hand over his hip just once more to feel the softness of his skin against his fingertips. Then, he rolls out of bed fluently, forcing himself awake as quickly as possible. His gigai needs a shower and his hair is honestly all over the place. He pads to the bathroom naked without a glance back at the bed because doing so would make things harder.
[ He wakes up when Byakuya gets up. His instinctual reaction is to reach out and grab his hand, where it rests briefly against Ichigo's hip, but he manages to hold back, reminding himself blearily that Byakuya is here on a mission from Renji, specifically, and honestly he's budged enough into his working hours at this point, hasn't he? So, he lets the other man go, listening for his footfalls, extremely quiet, but Ichigo has ears attuned to listening for two little rascal sisters, and follows him all the way to the bathroom. Door closing. Shower turned on. He imagines Byakuya naked under the spray, his hair...
With a sigh, he rolls over onto his back, wiping at his face with a flat hand to get the remnants of drool off his skin and to just feel himself for a moment. Yeah, he's beginning to regret -- not that they did it, that they had sex, but that time isn't so that they can just do it all day today, get to know each other like that. One time and then being away from each other who knows how long... seems kinda a poor start.
Or maybe he's just being selfish. He wants Byakuya to do his job, too. Or else Ichigo would have to do it for him. Come on, he has studies to keep up with.
Still, when Byakuya is done showering and comes out into the main suite again, Ichigo sits up slowly, keeping one sheet pooling over his lap in a weirdly self-conscious display - and he follows him with his eyes this time as he starts getting dressed, admiring his wet hair for a long moment, realizing how long it really is. Inky black. Must be heavy. He's pulling on pants and Ichigo regrets, again, that he can't just walk over and stop him, sink to his knees in front of him and suck his cock. Just, not stop here. Not leave. Not be apart again. The thought, very vivid in his mind, immediately makes Ichigo blush crimson and he looks down at his own sheet-covered lap where his cock's reacting in response, waking up quickly. Geez.
He takes a long, deep, supposedly calming breath, not that it's working. Not that that ever really works for him, right? Then, he says, quietly, not watching Byakuya put on the rest of his clothes. He still looks slightly strange, unfamiliar, in modern clothing. ]
[ It's been seven days since his visit to Kyoto. This time, he's not here on official business in any capacity, unless you count semi-mandatory time off as business. It was proposed by newer members of the 12th and somehow managed to make it all the way up through the ranks until it landed on Rukia's desk where, for some obscure reason, it wasn't discarded as it ought to have been. Instead, it is now in its trial period, this... arrangement, pertaining only to those who fought in the last war of a certain rank. It seems like such a waste of time and personnel and under normal circumstances, Byakuya doesn't participate at all. During this time of intense rebuilding, both of the Sereitei and the ranks within the Gotei 13, finding sufficient excuse to remain at work is no trouble.
However, then there was Kyoto.
Suddenly, there are... other priorities.
He's spent the past seven days steeling himself. Mentally, he's as prepared as he'll ever be for... second thoughts or whatever else might come up. Granted, he'd rather be eviscerated a few more times than suffer the indignity of rejection but that's neither here not there. Cowardice is for lesser people.
So he's sat himself down on a bench outside the Sodai Private University, a cup of green tea sitting beside him. It's cool enough to wear both a jacket and a scarf, all his clothing expensive but subdued, in colours of black and dark-blue. He's taken a bit more care with his clothes this time around because why wouldn't he, even if it doesn't...
Well.
He sips his tea and crosses his legs, very pointedly not looking towards the main entrance of the building. Midday lessons should have concluded now. ]
[ Ichigo would've been okay with a public university, really, he's not snobbish enough to put a lot of stock in public versus private, he would've done fine at both, both would have taught him english adequately, he's the one who's gotta learn it, after all. Still, his dad had insisted he sat down for the entrance exams of a handful of smaller, richer private universities in Karakura Town and neighbouring cities, some of them, at least, Ichigo feels pretty sure came at the recommendation of colleages. He had been accepted into all five places, and ended up choosing Sodai because it was closest to home. He didn't like the idea of having to move away from the twins, still, although they're getting obnoxiously big and teen-ish now, so maybe he should have reconsidered that.
Sodai's a nice place. The tiniest of the five campuses, humanities-focused and known for its large female student body. Ichigo's part of a 35 percentage male attendance and he kinda digs that, girls respect boundaries and don't get in his face most of the time. He can stick to himself. Focus on work. Getting good within his field of study, being serious about learning the language. They're serious, too. It just fits him well.
As such, because of this gender bias, Byakuya sticks out like a sore thumb, even if his spiritual pressure hadn't given him away already, when Ichigo makes it to the main entrance after midday classes, sitting on one of the benches lining the road, the maple leaf trees in orange-red colours above his head. He looks like he's out of a manga or something. Ichigo stops dead, a couple of girls behind him almost face-planting into his back, apologising profusely as they move around him, glancing sideways at him on the way.
Ichigo's chest feels light. The past week, because it's been a freakin' week, he's found himself - at random times - thinking he could still recall Byakuya's taste, his scent, when all he could for sure remember was how he'd looked, padding naked across the hotel room floor. Bending down to kiss Ichigo, then... Things like that.
The rest, he knows, he's imagining, but shit, he's been... imagining hard, non-stop. It's crazy.
Licking his lips, he looks in both directions before crossing the road and making his way over, stopping in front of Byakuya, looking down at him and feeling his own hands, hanging limply by his sides, suddenly tighten into fists, almost convulsively. Release. Tighten. He forces himself to breathe in deeply. ]
You could give a guy a warning, Byakuya. What if I'd walked right past you?
[ I'm glad I didn't, is what he really wants to tell him. I would never, is what he means, but it's been a week and he doesn't recall the other man's taste or scent anymore. ]
[ They make the walk back to the hotel in half an hour. Byakuya divests himself of his empty cup somewhere along the way and Ichigo walks besides him, tense, still, his posture just a little bit too rigid. On his part, Byakuya simply keeps his own pace next to him, gaze tracking to the side now and then to follow a car on its route down the street. The noise in Karakura Town is not as bad as in Kyoto but it still makes his mind feel crowded - the people, the traffic.
It's fascinating, in a way, how once they enter the hotel - a small, discreet building tucked away along a sidestreet - the noise disappears like fog, dispersing.
Once he'd figured out how to transfer money from his (new) accounts in Kyoto to Karakura Town, it was no pain at all to book a decent place. The Sigil has five stars, is privately owned and sports both spa facilities and its own luxury restaurant on the uppermost level. It's four stories tall and their room - a suite - is on the third floor with a view over the hotel's private gardens. Byakuya checked himself in before meeting with Ichigo and consequently, all he needs do to is take them both through the small lobby, up the elevator and down a short hallway where, at the far end, he lets them in with his keycard.
The heavy hotel door opens and closes behind him with a soft snick of the locks.
Acutely, just like that, he can sense how thoroughly they've locked out the world. He can hear the sound of Ichigo's breathing now, the rustling of his clothes and turns towards him slowly, his gaze downcast. He thinks about that tenseness in the other man's body again, his fingers itching to touch, to take all that edginess and release it. ]
[ The hotel is nice. As in really nice, price range insane. Ichigo realises, as he walks down the hallway towards the room next to the other man, that he probably shouldn't be surprised this is the kind of hotel that Byakuya would choose for himself when it isn't Renji putting in the reservations or Ichigo's admittedly mostly empty student pockets paying for it. This is like the Kuchiki Mansion, but in style with the World of the Living. Same picture.
The walk here has been undergone in tense silence, Ichigo waking close to him, but not too close, non-disclosure kinda distance, right? It's felt weird somehow, wanting so much to reach out and touch him, while thinking about his cock, about ways to make him feel good, and not doing it. Remembering how he'd felt against Ichigo's skin and not trying to rekindle that feeling.
So, once they've stepped inside and the elegant, discreet door has opened behind them with a click of the locking mechanism, Ichigo turns towards Byakuya, too, looks him up and down once, twice, slowly, figuring that he probably knows how to open a pair of jeans that aren't his own. Figuring that otherwise, he'll learn it fast, yeah?
He backs him up against the shut door in two steps, crowding him against the hard surface with an arm on either side of his head. Like that, they're standing so close, his breath feels moist and hot against Byakuya's chin, lips, Ichigo kisses him lightly on the lips, sends him a crooked smile and then, unceremoniously, drops to his knees in front of him.
While he reaches for his belt, buttons, zipper, Ichigo's breath stutters out of him, faint and uneven. He has definitely been thinking about this. All seven days since last time, and he unzips Byakuya fast and efficiently, fingers freeing his cock from his boxerbriefs, angling him upwards slightly. He's not completely hard, but that's okay. It's gonna come. Ichigo's sure.
Same smile, slightly lifted eyebrow, he says: ]
Been thinking about sucking your cock since I saw you come out of the shower like that back in Kyoto. [ He licks his lips in an attempt to feel for how wet he can make himself, how much he can slick up. ] Should've done it then, but it's fine. We have time now.
[ The afternoon has come and gone (and come again, if he's honest). It's been a while since he's had a slow day like this, when each hour simply bleeds into the next, all transitions smoothened out and his mind feels lazy from it, slow and unhurried. He's in the shower, washing off after spending hours in the bed, though they took their room service dinner by the small table, the big floor-to-ceiling windows affording a pleasant view over the hotel gardens. Not unlike stepping behind the walls of the Kuchiki mansion, being in this hotel feels much like being locked away from the rest of the world.
There's something to be said for being locked away with someone else for a change.
Byakuya's in the shower now, washing off the evidence of many hours' worth of sex. The water is hot and decadent, not unlike the food - as it turns out, they both prefer it spicy and the hotel restaurant, deeply expensive, has delivered very respectfully on that account. He can still taste the aftershocks of those togarashi fried rice, though his body is certainly more preoccupied with the echoes of touch, of Ichigo's fingerprints which are everywhere, sticking to him even with water and soap running off his body. He likes the thought of that.
Eyes closed, one hand supporting himself against the wall, he thinks about the conversations they've had - about Ichigo's job and education (interesting), about the Kuchiki family monetary structures in the world of the living (not... as interesting, he barely even takes an interest in general) and last, about the re-building of the Sereitei.
That part still lingers with him now as he washes off. It's complicated, going over the same, awful wounds the war left on their world, day after day, to see something new arise on top of them. In spite of them.
Right now, within the quiet world of this hotel, against the backdrop of the day they've spent together, Ichigo and him, all those restoration efforts, all that destruction - it seems very far away, somehow. ]
[ Usually, back home, after a meal, if Yuzu is lucky, he'll help clear off the table and the strange new normalcy of this day is making his fingers itch for clearing the table in their hotel room off like he would do at his own house, but dinner was room service style and aside from gathering all their used plates and bowls on the trolley, there's not really much else to do. After Byakuya has gone to grab a shower, like that, Ichigo is left in a mostly trashed suite, the bed, at least, is a mess and supposedly, he could fix that up, but he isn't that desperate either. He stands in his bathrobe in front of the windows with their view of the gardens, reminded of the gardens at Kuchiki mansion, hands curled into fists at his sides, flexing, relaxing, flexing again, before - after a long moment - he glances over his shoulder towards the bathroom. He noticed earlier that the shower is huge in there. Maybe... Ichigo turns. Back on the gardenscape.
Maybe... What are the chances that Byakuya is gonna mind? Really. After everything.
They've chatted over dinner, about boring stuff like Ichigo's new parttime and his studies, a bit less boring stuff like how the heck Byakuya suddenly has money in the World of the Living, and the real interesting things -- like the rebuilding efforts in Soul Society. The work that fills Byakuya's life now. They talked about that, too. Ichigo still feels the sadness from him, when they breached that subject. Something unpleasant and painful.
His hands flex again. Slowly, he starts moving towards the sound of running water, the slapping, wet sound of skin on tiles, water on skin. Once he steps inside the room, he shoulders out of his bathrobe and walks over to the glass door, tapping twice on it with his knuckles. ]
It's me. Can I come in?
[ Although he isn't rude enough to just walk in without asking first, Ichigo isn't polite enough either to wait until he's told yes before stepping inside, gasping lightly as the first thin spray hits him. Looking Byakuya up and down quickly, standing with one arm supporting him against the cubicle wall, Ichigo doesn't tell him to make room. Rather, he rather unceremoniously drapes himself all over his back, so close that there's no room left between them. He rests his cheek against his shoulder, the other man's hair like a drapery between.
They're rebuilding as well, right? Or, they're both part of the rebuilding efforts, if nothing else. They're not in it alone. ]
- your identity - that this is your number going forwards - your current date, time and location for the sake of proper calibration between our devices
[ He doesn't spent overly long, getting his appearance in order - for one, with his kenseikan still holding his hair in place, he's not a an overly terrible sight and secondly, he can't find enough energy within himself to actually stand up straight in front of the mirror for long enough. He leaves the mansion after a very brief discussion with Seike about arrangements for the morning. He's not going back to work until tomorrow evening, it would seem, as the fluctuations in his spiritual pressure apparently make people... queasy. Obviously, Renji didn't actually say that but sometimes, what matters most is what a person doesn't say.
He sighs and pats Senbonzakura with one hand, just a quick stroke of fingers against the hilt. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow everything will be back to normal. He eyes the Senkaimon, feeling already too exhausted to even contemplate the process of opening the gate, stepping through it and exiting on the opposite side. From there, however, it will be... easier. Presumably. He will, after all, be intruding and one can never expect a warm welcome on that basis.
In his hand, his cellphone stubbornly pinpoints Ichigo at the exact same location as before. In his room, working away even now with sunrise on the verge of catching up to him.
Back straightening forcibly, he raises his chin, opens the gate and steps through, refusing to give into the surge of nausea that immediately follows at the expenditure of energy. He finds himself in front of Ichigo's closed bedroom window, hovering in the air. The house is silent and dark all over, except for here where Ichigo's desk light illuminates his small bedroom with harsh persistency. Ichigo, himself, has left his spot, though judging from the state of his work, it is temporary. He's not in his bed, at any rate.
Blinking blearily, Byakuya opens the window carefully and steps inside, finding himself suddenly - and for the first time - in the other man's bedroom. Rukia has told him stories, of course, but to see it for himself... He keeps his reiatsu tightly under wraps, knowing full well who's sleeping on the floor beneath them and very unwilling to have that particular confrontation at this point in time. Instead, he looks around a little listlessly, feeling somewhat out of his element. He glances askance towards Ichigo's bed again.
It looks much too neat. Like it hasn't been disturbed for many, many consecutive hours. ]
[ Even with Renji's schedules hanging on his wall, filled out in a scribble, only a few hours actively set aside for sleep and food, Ichigo isn't getting enough of either. The past month, he's slept maybe an hour, two at the most, during the night, surviving on power naps the rest of the way and only eating what can sit next to him while he churns through the novel that Nakamura-san has given him. Finish it in your own time, Kurosaki-kun, it's only on the backburner, he'd said, but it'll be good practice and lets me get an idea of your proficiency, yet Ichigo read the book, heard from Rukia that Byakuya's birthday was coming up and knew, he wanted to give it to him, screw discretion rules. And screw what little time he had.
Since then, every waking hour not spent on school work, which he's neglecting a bit anyway, or his family, who he's trying not to neglect in the same way and probably failing, Ichigo spends sitting at his desk or at the library or at a cafe, translating I. R. Miller's A Thousand Days of Wonder, on the surface a pretty simple detective novel, but the detective in question, Charlie Weaver, can see and talk to ghosts and the way those ghosts are portrayed... Yeah, Ichigo's pretty sure that Miller, the author, must be able to see spirits, too. No one gets these things right if they don't understand it themselves.
Anyway... He wants Byakuya to read it. He thinks the Shinigami would like it.
He hopes. Because he's gonna finish it on time and have a copy printed, paid out of pocket, and give it to him at his celebrations. That's the plan.
A guy still has to go take a leak sometimes, though. So, when Ichigo returns from the bathroom, righting his pyjamas bottoms, he fully expects to sit right back down at the desk and continue.
What he finds, though, is one (very tired-looking) Kuchiki Byakuya lounging inside, near the window and the desk and the novel still on his desk(!) and he can't even flail properly, because that would wake up his sisters and his dad! Jeez! He said, track yourself, not track yourself to here, right? Waving his hand silently, he quickly crosses the floor until he's close enough to be able to angrily whisper, ]
Byakuya! Shit, what are you doing here?! Didn't I tell you... [ Groaning, still very mutedly, Ichigo grabs the Shinigami by the sleeve of his shihakusho and drags him over to the foot of the bed where the view from the open door is more obscured. He's not in a gigai, so Yuzu can't see him, at least, but it won't save him from... Fuck. ] Never mind. Why are you here? Is everything okay?
[ He doesn't say, you look tired, but it means that as well. ]
[ A blank message with an attached photo (!) of the koi pond in Byakuya's private garden, taken at an angle. Immediately to his left, one can make out the stone bench carrying Masaki's flowers, the small vase sprouting three, purple tree peonies. It's early evening and the soft light comes from the lantern currently sitting by his feet. It's a very advanced photo, all things considered - he's actually been crouching down somewhat to take it and everything. ]
[ And to thank the other man properly, have a photo, taken from somewhere above his head, his arm completely extended to get as much of him into the frame as possible. Ichigo is in a changing room at his local gym, hair still wet from his shower and his chest bare, some droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His jeans are hugging his hips and waist, framing him in from beneath. His legs are out of frame.
He's smiling, sharply. It's only a little bit of a challenge. He misses Byakuya, these days. Thinking about him all the time, as he works on the translation which is coming along okay. He wants the other man to miss as well. ]
[ If he had expected a reply to his shirtless selfie, Ichigo doesn't get one. Not that he's gonna take it personally or anything, but still he's slow to get dressed and pack up his stuff, checking his phone regularly all throughout. It's still pretty early on in the evening, when he gets home, he'll have at least a handful of hours to finish the chapter he's proof-reading right now. He's actually got a rough draft of the whole translation finished, but it needs editing and the works now, of course, before he starts looking for a place to have the thing printed. Yuu has said he'll illustrate the cover. It's gonna look nice.
For Byakuya.
Byakuya, the bastard, who receives a shirtless picture and proceeds to do nothing. If he hasn't gone off to wank or something, Ichigo is gonna beat up his ass. Ichigo huffs as he moves through the gym, quietly and withdrawn, no one greets him, although they all know who he is, the guy with the orange hair, about to head out into the streets again. It was a brief workout tonight. Shirtless selfie was the best thing to come of it, too.
Ichigo frowns.
Then, he comes to a complete halt, turning his head slowly and looking towards the spot where the vending machines are kept along with the small collection of chairs and tables, to catch a break at, though they're only sparingly used. It's in use now, however. Byakuya is sitting there, dressed nicely in his gigai and ignoring the cup of tea he seems to have pulled from the machine. Yeah, he must really hate that. Ichigo remains rooted to the spot for another couple of seconds, then he walks over and places himself right up in the other man's personal space, frown deepening. ]
Hey, you can't not reply to that kind of picture. What was I gonna think, that you didn't like it, that -- [ His voice drops in volume into a hoarse mutter, and he really hopes the blush creeping across the bridge of his nose isn't too evident. ] -- you really, really liked it or?? Byakuya.
[ He's irritated, sure, but most of all he's extremely happy to see him. Beats a text back anyway. ]
[ When he'd sent off that picture on his phone - on a whim, mostly, once he'd discovered the function and made just a few trial attempts - he had most definitely not expected to get a picture back of Ichigo without most of his clothes on, his hair clinging to his face, water gleaming on his skin. He'd been training, clearly; his muscles stood out in that particular way that happens when you've given your body a proper work-through. Either way, Byakuya had spent less than ten minutes on freeing himself from his few remaining responsibilities for the evening (by finishing everything faster than lightning) and then, obviously, he'd... well.
He'd come straight here.
It's been a month. To have him suddenly so thoroughly in front of him, yet so far away and out of reach - that had been intolerable. He hadn't even considered taking the time to return his text; though he's certainly improving, as would be expected, he still takes too long to write on that tiny screen, his fingertips stumbling half of the time. It never fails to annoy him and at that moment, with the thought and sight of Ichigo's half-naked body seemingly fused to his mind, he'd had no patience for such inadequacy whatsoever.
Now, though, with Ichigo standing in front of him and looking equal parts irritated and abashed, he wonders whether it wasn't perhaps a bit... inconsiderate on his part. To effectively leave him hanging like this. He'd thought it was obvious, really, that he'd like it. That he'd like it too much to stay away, even.
Getting to his feet and ignoring the tea - abysmal, he could tell without even trying a single sip; someone else will have to clean it away, he's not touching it any further - he pauses like that, the distance between their bodies very short, nearly but not quite annulled. He could touch him now, if he wanted to. If Ichigo wanted him to. His hand actually twitches forward visibly before he aborts the motion. ]
I will remember in the future. To tell you exactly what I think about such pictures.
[ He meets Ichigo's eyes directly. His voice remains even, though there might be a small, near-invisible flush crawling up the sides of his nose. He'd looked very enticing, yes. Very. ]
[ The Thai restaurant is Byakuya's fault through and through. Well, sure, Ichigo picked the place and guided them there (it was a couple of blocks over), but if Byakuya hadn't insisted they had something to eat in the first place, Ichigo's pretty sure they'd be in a hotel somewhere now, banging like rabbits.
Instead, they're sitting opposite each other at the small table by the window, a nice-looking guy having served them a bottle of medium-priced sake, chilled, because it's exactly expensive enough for that, right? Ichigo wraps his fingers around the small cup, tipping it a bit restlessly back and forth, glimpsing the liquid within at every tilt towards himself. His hands feel restless, eager to touch... other things. He looks over at Byakuya. They've had red curry for dinner, it was good, but honestly - neither of them is here for the curry, even if they at least agree on tastes, huh.
Some years back, he'd never have thought he'd even think something like that.
Shifting in his seat, he extends his legs beneath the table, the nose of his shoe brushing against Byakuya's ankle and he pauses, lips pursed, before pushing against him more insistently. Feeling how he doesn't give.
That's both really freakin' aggravating and really enticing at the same time. So, he comments, kinda off-handedly, kinda not off-handedly at all, ]
You didn't say how you liked the picture. [ There's a slight blush to his cheeks, though it fades quickly, almost forcibly, when he quickly adds, like making a deal or an offer: ] I'll go first, for the sake of fairness.
[ With a lick of his lips, he takes a sip of his sake and watches Byakuya over the rim of it. It's the best sake he'd had in a long time, but hell - he's a university student, he would ration his food, if he didn't still live at home. ]
The only thing I thought about, when you sent that picture of the koi, was how I'm glad you gotta look at that vase every day. [ Silence for a while. ] Even if it's for my mom, it feels a bit like it represents me, too.
[ The restaurant is acceptable - he's found that in the world of the living, luxury doesn't necessarily dictate quality as much as is true for the Sereitei. Going to any of the poorer districts in Rukongai will not, unfortunately, yield you hidden treasures of high or decent quality food. In Karakura Town, everything seems more... equalized. Cheaper food is still adequate, medium restaurants offer at least semi-proper sake - yes, it's quite different. It matches the impression he has cultivated from listening to Rukia's stories about the world of the living, though she rarely puts as much emphasis on how the contrasts differ. To Byakuya, it seems as if the people in Karakura Town are just... broadly speaking, wealthier overall, perhaps, than those who live in Rukongai.
It comes down, at least in part, to the way the noble families have handled the distribution of power.
He's glad not to get political about it but he notices, all the same, just as he notices that the sake they're drinking is of a good quality, despite the relatively low pricing.
Ichigo, opposite him, is getting restless. He's been less than enthused about taking the time to feed himself but obviously, whether Shinigami or human or hybrids thereof, they all need food to preserve and replenish energy. It's the logical sequence of things. Particularly if they wish to do more than just fall asleep when they get to the hotel they've booked. Regardless, of course, Ichigo thinks he can skip all necessities - the man who achieved bankai in three (3!) days, who rushed straight into Hueco Mundo without taking even the most basic, competent back-up (he's thinking about Renji and Rukia here, though Rukia is obviously not basic), then proceeded to face God knows how many top-tier Espada before getting his arse well and truly handed to him by a very unworthy opponent - of course, he will run himself ragged before he admits that he needs anything.
In retrospect, it's all very obvious.
Byakuya nudges him back with his foot, unconcerned. Sips his sake, one eyebrow quirking very slightly as Ichigo proceeds to tell him what he'd thought of the (mild, very harmless) picture Byakuya had sent him earlier, clearly expecting a conversational trade-off in return. Except, the picture he sent back... Byakuya pauses. Looks down at his sake, his gaze blank, seemingly unbothered. Inside, though, his mind cheerfully parades half-naked Ichigo in front of his inner eye, his body growing warmer almost instantly at the thought alone.
His lips twists for a moment. He could get around this with ease, of course - it would be as easy as to say, I appreciated the composition of your picture and the fact that you at least wore trousers but he's in the mood for something different. The sake is good, his blood feels lighter because of it. And Ichigo's foot is solid and strong against his ankle. Present.
So he says, voice as bland as always: ]
When I received your picture, I was mid-walk in my gardens, which was quite unfortunate. [ He keeps his gaze down-turned, though he isn't truly looking at the sake anymore. ] It was a long way back to my bedroom with a hard-on.
[ He arrives at the Kuchiki mansion around dinnertime, having left Kon with his body back home for the next couple of days, something that's definitely not gonna go over well, but what can you do, Ichigo has taken the time time around Byakuya's birthday off and isn't gonna waste it worrying about what the guy's gonna get up to. His body can take a lot, and will probably have to as well, right? It's fine.
Besides his Zanpakuto, strapped to his back, he's carrying a duffelbag over his other shoulder, too, packed with whatever he's gonna need for a five day stay in Soul Society, honestly, staying with Byakuya, he could probably get most of this stuff or similar through him, but he doesn't wanna be a burden - besides, there's a tux among his things right now that he wouldn't be able to get here anyway and he already made up his mind about wearing it at the other man's party. No shikahusho, because that would be like showing up to his celebrations in freakin' scrubs. And no kimono either.
Tux is what he'd wear back home, it's how Byakuya knows him. He's gonna stand out in this crowd like that, but Ichigo's used to that. At least, in Soul Society, it isn't the hair.
As he walks through the long hallways of the mansion, he notices the frantic activity of everybody, suddenly glad he brought his own stuff, no one here should have had to find the time to get him anything. However, with the level of activity, he doesn't bother asking anyone for directions, just feeling out Byakuya's reiatsu and finding him in the opposite end of the compound, heading that way without a word.
Another thing he's brought is the book, of course. He got the printed copy off the print service two days ago and spent all this time trying to decide whether to wait or not to, ending up concluding that this is a personal gift for Byakuya. His party doesn't seem very personal, more of a family affair, and Ichigo doesn't want to share this thing with the whole Kuchiki Clan, so he'd come. Before that, he'd asked Yuzu to wrap it up for him, nicely, and she'd looked at him while working, wanting to know whether it was for a girl. Ichigo, at least, hadn't lied when he'd said no.
Who's it for, then? Seems the kind of gift you'd give someone you liked, Ichi-nii.
Mind your own business, he'd told her, but the way she'd smiled had made Ichigo eventually scratch his head, shuffle his feet and admitted, it's for someone I'm seeing.
In her usual Yuzu-ish way, his little sister had asked, a nice person?
Ichigo had thought about Byakuya for a moment, then, trying to decide if he thought that description fit, then shrugged, embarrassed, yeah.
In the end, Yuzu had smiled and wrapped the book up in black and pink fabric with a cherry blossom motif and for someone who had never met Byakuya, Ichigo had to give it to her. That was on the nose, huh.
All of that is sitting in his bag, as he unceremoniously, and without getting stopped on the way, enters Byakuya's own quarters, finding the man seated at a low table, eating. Saying only one thing, Ichigo acts as if there's nothing weird about him being here two days in advance and bringing a big bag of crap from home and moves over to sit down opposite him, duffelbag dropped to one side, Zanpakuto eased off to the other. ]
[ Every year, it's the same story. His birthday comes around in late January and consequently, for the past two months his household has been busy preparing the annual celebration, a clan matter more so than anything else. When he was younger, Byakuya had thought up several ways to escape the day in his mind, simple fantasies that never came to fruition - he knows his duties and all occassions to strengthen the family must be carefully observed, the ties that bind them together much weaker now than they used to be before his time. He has no parents, no offspring - and Rukia, as his only sibling, has married outside of nobility.
This year, though, he's had... a novel urge. He doesn't quite know why or how it's come about but since moving into the new year, he's felt oddly restless, untethered, in a fashion. As if the ground beneath him is changing and he's standing there, mid-motion, trying to maintain some kind of balance. The thought makes him want to move - that is, after all, the easiest way to remain standing on one's feet when your foundation trembles. Thus, he's moved towards taking a more active part in the planning of his birthday, much to his servants and Seike's (well-hidden and undisclosed) dismay. Today, two days before, they are still rushing to implement the last-minute changes he's dictated. One of them involves the food. It was nowhere near spicy enough. Another concerned the seating arrangements - a rather important change, at that.
He has no intentions of allowing Rukia, Renji and Ichigo to be seated so far away from him in favour of Great-Aunt Yukina and her (slightly) extended family. Not to mention, the ten girls they've arranged for, all of varying noble birth, all of whom will be seated so he won't have to look at them continuously throughout dinner.
Sensible changes, surely. He's perfectly at ease. So much so, that he has had enough spare energy to be awake every night, too, ever since the start of January.
When he senses Ichigo's reiatsu suddenly bursting to life in his mansion, he quite simply stays seated with his dinner, gaze down-cast and movements as careful as ever. He remains like that until Ichigo has seated himself, then waits half a second to hear the footsteps outside his rooms indicate that his personal servants are already rushing to the kitchens to bring in another round of servings.
Then, he looks up slowly. Takes him in as he sits there, a bag on one side and his Zanpakuto on the other, mirroring Senbonzakura on its stand next to Byakuya.
The ground, he thinks, has stopped shaking.
Remarkable. ]
It's in two days.
[ He puts down his chopsticks gently. His voice is mild, perhaps even a little too light when he adds: ]
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saviorcomplexed) wrote2025-03-17 12:16 pm
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Giving the small cup with its pre-boiled water a blank stare, Byakuya sets it aside carefully on the low table top and folds his hands in his lap instead. He's chosen a somewhat deserted area for this small break and consequently, there are at least three tables between him and the nearest visitors. He doesn't hold any hopes, however, that the luxury of personal space will last for long - during the viewing season, the gardens of Kitano Tenmangu are quite busy with guests and at this moment, he's just one out of many. Somewhere off to his right, a family with two small children are settling down for teas and sweets and along the trails leading to and from the gardens, people come and go steadfastly, a seemingly never-ending stream of disturbances.
Evidently, if he must have any regrets, he needs to go back to the moment he'd agreed to Renji's idea about visiting Kyoto for the sake of getting close to practice - theoretically, they're to swap places tomorrow and then evaluate but already, the idea seems asinine and unworthy of any further deliberation.
Byakuya hasn't visited Kyoto since before his captaincy. Time has brought no improvements to the city, as far as he's concerned.
The temple grounds, at least, he can stomach. The maple trees are objectively beautiful, a sea of red and orange flowing across the pathways, taking up the air, the bright space between ground and sky. If he leaves his gigai somewhere none-too-unfortunate, perhaps he can cheat and simply stay here for the night - or return earlier than planned, if he finds himself somehow unable to humour Renji any further which is not... an unlikely scenario, really, considering the place he's been booked to sleep for his stay.
Another half-glance towards his tea.
Patience, he thinks. ]
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In the end, he'd give her that much, Kitano Tenmangu hadn't been too bad an idea. Between Jamie, Gil and Liz, maybe Liz was the one who'd embraced the setting with the most excitement, but both Jamie and Gil had been amenable enough. They'd made their way through the temple grounds and now, they're on their way back towards the exit, Jamie walking on Ichigo's right and Tanaka on his left, boxing him in well and truly, huh.
He knows what they're both on about, right? It's getting to be a real pain in the ass.
They're passing by some benches with appertaining tables when Ichigo catches a glimpse of something that looks familiar in an honestly gut-wrenching way and his head snaps to the side, staring at what does really prove to be Kuchiki Byakuya sitting peacefully at the bench farthest away, definitely in a gigai and with a cup of purchased tea in front of him.
Ichigo doesn't believe it. What the hell...
Drawing slowly to a halt, letting the other four get ahead of him, he just stares at the other man for a moment, his heart beating fast in his chest. What is Byakuya doing here? Is something --
Up ahead, Tanaka notices that he's fallen behind and turns towards him with an inquiring, Kurosaki-kun, that he doesn't respond to beyond waving his hand at all of them, as they're now just standing there and looking at him, collectively. ]
You just go ahead, I'll catch up later, it's back to the hotel after this, yeah?
[ Without waiting for a confirmation, because Ichigo knows he doesn't remember it wrong, he crosses over to where Byakuya is sitting, his steps a little too fast. Is something -- Stopping right in front of the other man, Ichigo looks down at him, hands curled into fists at his sides. ]
Byakuya. Is something wrong?
[ As far as greetings go, Ichigo could do worse. Granted, he could probably also do a lot better. ]
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Now they're here. Sitting opposite each other on pillows at one of the small, low leg tables, Byakuya with matcha in his cup and Ichigo, not really feeling like tea, having placed an order for hot chocolate, something that had made the girl behind the counter flush slightly. Chocolate, she'd said, so you must like sweet things.
I like chocolate, Ichigo had replied.
The cup is pretty big and full of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. He stirs it with his long, golden spoon slowly, glancing over at Byakuya without saying anything. It's dawned on him somewhere on the way between there and here, that he honestly doesn't know Byakuya that well. For someone whose intestines he's seen on full display - and he still swallows slightly at the memory, right, he knows little else about him. except that sight. That moment.
That, and how Renji's sent him to Kyoto today or all days. Really. ]
Renji must be doing all right, if he's bossing you around to the World of the Living.
[ Raising his gaze, Ichigo meets Byakuya's eyes, thinking the tone of his voice, neutral, inquiring, makes up for the directness of his words. Rukia would hit him, if she heard him talk this way to Byakuya, but he thinks the man might understand things more rationally. If nothing else, he doesn't look at himself with hearts in his eyes, it seems.
And it's just a question. Implicit, but there. ]
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Opposite him, Ichigo has chosen to drink... hot chocolate, apparently. He's quite certain he would have never guessed him to be the type to choose such a drink when he'd faced him on the battle field and the few times he's seen him under other circumstances... no. It's oddly innocent. Again, he's reminded of the flowers, the vase, the bench. Ichigo, stance rigid and tense, having picked only the least impressive flowers in the garden.
His expression actually tightens maybe half a fraction at Ichigo's word choice, though. Bossing around, like he wouldn't just ignore something like that if it happened at all - which it doesn't. But on the other hand, if he's being honest with himself (and he tries to be these days), he's not here in Kyoto because he desperately wanted to be, is he? He's here because Renji is not just his second in command - he's Rukia's husband and Byakuya's brother in his own way and gone are the days when he'd shoot down Renji's suggestions just to watch the man crawl his way back into the dirt.
Swallowing, he looks down at his tea. ]
They are both doing fine.
[ He frowns, considering. Then, glancing back up at Ichigo, he just brings it up; if nothing else, the man is a trusted friend to both of them: ]
You haven't been informed?
[ It seems a ridiculous notion to even consider. Surely, Ichigo would be the first to know. Surely, he'd know before Byakuya, at any rate, who's been much less of a brother to Rukia. ]
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Perhaps a night at this awful excuse for a hotel will get his mind back on track. He pauses, leaving Ichigo to change his own step as he wishes, to stare down the small, derelict passage towards the dark, shabby building hiding near the end of the alleyway. It looks exactly as decrepit on the inside and from the roof, a strange light keeps blinking on and off behind blocked-out windows. He'd thought, perhaps a night club of some kind - but he's heard no music or seen no visitors coming or going.
Either way, yes, he'll have clarity or his gigai will be stolen for something utterly depraved like organ harvesting. An either-or situation, surely.
Sighing, he puts his hands in his pockets. The sounds of traffic and pedestrians from the main street make him feel restless, which doesn't improve his mood or his opinion on this whole situation. It's rather like having a barrage of flies buzzing around one's ears. ]
Perhaps the temple gardens would be preferable.
[ If nothing else, the maple leaves truly were a beautiful sight. Even at night, even if it rains, he's certain he'd rather have a soggy leaf landing on his nose than whatever might descend from above in that hotel. ]
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Now, he realizes, standing next to a very tired-looking Byakuya, why the hotel name didn't ring any bells. It's crap. An utter shit place, are you kidding him? He looks for a long time from the hotel facade that looks rotten and inside it's probably even worse to Byakuya and back again.
What the hell was Renji thinking? That place has, like, one star at the most and doesn't Byakuya have, like, all the money in the world to find a stupid hotel for? Ichigo blinks, then he blinks again.
Then, he straightens up and rolls both shoulders, sighing loudly, audibly. ]
Really.
[ Turning to Byakuya, he looks up into his face, raising his chin to make sure the other man isn't gonna argue with him for his petty principles' sake. In this hotel, even principles can't survive. Should they live, they'd still get scabies, right? ]
You're sleeping with me tonight. No way I can allow you to go any closer to that rat's nest.
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The color scheme of the interior is kept simple, black with some blue accents to break up the monotony, though the room still feels pretty dark. Sombre.
Ichigo is spreading out his duvet and pillow on the couch which is just about long enough that he can lie there with his feet tugged up a little, not his favourite sleeping position, but he isn't picky either. Demanding. You try having two younger sisters climbing into your bed at midnight and insist on your favourite sprawl. Good freakin' luck.
As his hands work, tightening up the sheet he's wrapped over the couch, Ichigo is too aware of Byakuya behind him for some reason. And he's aware in some strange way he doesn't recognise, too. Kinda like a connect, part of him knowing a part of Byakuya, something like that. He doesn't like it and definitely didn't ask for it, right?
Suddenly, completely out of the blue, he remembers the vase Byakuya got for him, back at the Kuchiki Mansion, how he'd let him arrange his tiny bouquet in that. Ichigo wonders...
He wonders... ]
Hey, Byakuya. How long did you leave out the flowers for my mom?
[ It doesn't hurry, that question. Ichigo asks it with calmness and consideration.
And a terrible curiosity. ]
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Also, to avoid Rukia ever hearing about it at all.
Consequently, he'd ended up letting things happen until now, they're on the way to bed, Ichigo preparing to sleep on that, frankly, unacceptable couch (Byakuya had taken the chance to feel it out with his hand when Ichigo had been in the bathroom and promptly made another decision with regards to the bed). The bed is much more appropriate - it's too tall for his tastes but the mattress is fine and the sheets are... synthetic, yes, but they'll do for the night.
His borrowed hotel standard nightdress is equally synthetic but surely, certainly, it beats whatever would have awaited him in that hotel room down the seedy alleyway. He's content, if not particularly comfortable. Thus, he's getting into bed, taking up exactly one side of the bed and nothing more, when Ichigo asks him about his mother's flowers.
He brushes his hair away from his face. ]
They wilted within a day or two. [ He glances sideways at Ichigo. Then, he promptly glances away again because the man honestly isn't wearing much and he's got enough to ponder on his own when he gets home without adding to the chaos. ] My servants exchanged them for spider lilies. Hopefully, you won't mind.
[ He's not asking, exactly. But he'd made an assumption with regards to the small vase and the flowers, the bench that has now become a shrine in its own right. If Ichigo doesn't want that for his mother, he's in his rights to refuse. ]
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He thinks, Senbonzakura, then realises that he hasn't been dreaming at all.
Also, he's in the world of the living in a gigai, sleeping next to --
Breath catching in his throat, he turns his head just in time to hear his own name muttered into the stillness, a low murmur spoken with such desperation that he's certain it would have been a shout if Ichigo hadn't been fast asleep. He turns onto his side, pulling his hair out of his face. The other man is twisting and turning, face scrounched up in distress. And there, again, his name.
It's not too difficult to imagine what he might be dreaming about.
For a moment, he considers leaving Ichigo to his nightmares, to spare him the indignity of coming awake in such a mental state. On the other hand, however... well. Must he suffer so stubbornly, even whilst asleep? Surely, he can fight his way uninterrupted through his nightmares any other nights, when he's alone in his bed but tonight... Eyes narrowing, he shifts onto his elbow, prepares to defend himself from any flying fists and grabs onto Ichigo's shoulder, shaking him firmly. ]
Wake up. Ichigo.
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In his dreams, he sees all of them, but worse, slain, dead. Rukia torn to pieces by her own fear. Renji... just torn to pieces. Chad, cut down. Inoue with a gaping wound in her chest. But in his dreams... he walks by each and every one of them, recognising that they're beyond saving, that he can't save them, that he couldn't, running towards the part of Seireitei where he feels Byakuya's reiatsu, still wavering, blinking, but there. And he's flash stepping, he's running on air, and even so he's too late.
The other man is in pieces when he arrives, torn to shreds, it's a freaking wonder he even has a mouth to speak through. And Ichigo calls for him, moving closer, closer, but his voice sounds far away. Forgive me, Byakuya says. I'm deeply ashamed, and Ichigo calls again --
Wake up. Ichigo, says Byakuya, then, in his dream. In a stronger voice, so it isn't in his dream and Ichigo feels the visuals slip out of his grasp and for some reason that only makes him more desperate.
The memory is all he has. When they're gone. Rukia. Renji. Chad. Inoue.
Byakuya.
Wake up. Ichigo.
Ichigo sits up with a suppressed yell, having practiced staying silent so as not to wake his sisters, chest heaving, cold sweat clinging to his brow as he grasps the sheets with both hands, feeling the weight of something on his shoulder only faintly, like it's through a filter, a fog. Still trying to catch his breath, he looks down. Byakuya's hand is holding him firmly. Byakuya's hand isn't letting go.
He's alive.
They're both alive.
Blinking the tears back, Ichigo mutters, turning his face away, voice thick: ]
It's fine. Sorry for waking you, just go back to sleep.
[ What the tears caught in his eyelashes say, is please. ]
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Yet, he actually falls asleep for another half hour like that, warm and pleasantly drowsy. When he wakes up again, he has to get up - either that, or suffer the indignity of being late to work for the first and only time in his entire career. He wouldn't care overly much, except he's meeting with Renji who's going to think that he's fallen off a cliff somewhere and possibly died. It won't do.
It won't, though he wouldn't mind being a bit more selfish.
Trying to be gentle about it, he shifts away from beneath Ichigo, brushing his hand over his hip just once more to feel the softness of his skin against his fingertips. Then, he rolls out of bed fluently, forcing himself awake as quickly as possible. His gigai needs a shower and his hair is honestly all over the place. He pads to the bathroom naked without a glance back at the bed because doing so would make things harder.
Not in any positive way, either.
Pity, that. ]
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With a sigh, he rolls over onto his back, wiping at his face with a flat hand to get the remnants of drool off his skin and to just feel himself for a moment. Yeah, he's beginning to regret -- not that they did it, that they had sex, but that time isn't so that they can just do it all day today, get to know each other like that. One time and then being away from each other who knows how long... seems kinda a poor start.
Or maybe he's just being selfish. He wants Byakuya to do his job, too. Or else Ichigo would have to do it for him. Come on, he has studies to keep up with.
Still, when Byakuya is done showering and comes out into the main suite again, Ichigo sits up slowly, keeping one sheet pooling over his lap in a weirdly self-conscious display - and he follows him with his eyes this time as he starts getting dressed, admiring his wet hair for a long moment, realizing how long it really is. Inky black. Must be heavy. He's pulling on pants and Ichigo regrets, again, that he can't just walk over and stop him, sink to his knees in front of him and suck his cock. Just, not stop here. Not leave. Not be apart again. The thought, very vivid in his mind, immediately makes Ichigo blush crimson and he looks down at his own sheet-covered lap where his cock's reacting in response, waking up quickly. Geez.
He takes a long, deep, supposedly calming breath, not that it's working. Not that that ever really works for him, right? Then, he says, quietly, not watching Byakuya put on the rest of his clothes. He still looks slightly strange, unfamiliar, in modern clothing. ]
We'll figure something out, huh.
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However, then there was Kyoto.
Suddenly, there are... other priorities.
He's spent the past seven days steeling himself. Mentally, he's as prepared as he'll ever be for... second thoughts or whatever else might come up. Granted, he'd rather be eviscerated a few more times than suffer the indignity of rejection but that's neither here not there. Cowardice is for lesser people.
So he's sat himself down on a bench outside the Sodai Private University, a cup of green tea sitting beside him. It's cool enough to wear both a jacket and a scarf, all his clothing expensive but subdued, in colours of black and dark-blue. He's taken a bit more care with his clothes this time around because why wouldn't he, even if it doesn't...
Well.
He sips his tea and crosses his legs, very pointedly not looking towards the main entrance of the building. Midday lessons should have concluded now. ]
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Sodai's a nice place. The tiniest of the five campuses, humanities-focused and known for its large female student body. Ichigo's part of a 35 percentage male attendance and he kinda digs that, girls respect boundaries and don't get in his face most of the time. He can stick to himself. Focus on work. Getting good within his field of study, being serious about learning the language. They're serious, too. It just fits him well.
As such, because of this gender bias, Byakuya sticks out like a sore thumb, even if his spiritual pressure hadn't given him away already, when Ichigo makes it to the main entrance after midday classes, sitting on one of the benches lining the road, the maple leaf trees in orange-red colours above his head. He looks like he's out of a manga or something. Ichigo stops dead, a couple of girls behind him almost face-planting into his back, apologising profusely as they move around him, glancing sideways at him on the way.
Ichigo's chest feels light. The past week, because it's been a freakin' week, he's found himself - at random times - thinking he could still recall Byakuya's taste, his scent, when all he could for sure remember was how he'd looked, padding naked across the hotel room floor. Bending down to kiss Ichigo, then... Things like that.
The rest, he knows, he's imagining, but shit, he's been... imagining hard, non-stop. It's crazy.
Licking his lips, he looks in both directions before crossing the road and making his way over, stopping in front of Byakuya, looking down at him and feeling his own hands, hanging limply by his sides, suddenly tighten into fists, almost convulsively. Release. Tighten. He forces himself to breathe in deeply. ]
You could give a guy a warning, Byakuya. What if I'd walked right past you?
[ I'm glad I didn't, is what he really wants to tell him. I would never, is what he means, but it's been a week and he doesn't recall the other man's taste or scent anymore. ]
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It's fascinating, in a way, how once they enter the hotel - a small, discreet building tucked away along a sidestreet - the noise disappears like fog, dispersing.
Once he'd figured out how to transfer money from his (new) accounts in Kyoto to Karakura Town, it was no pain at all to book a decent place. The Sigil has five stars, is privately owned and sports both spa facilities and its own luxury restaurant on the uppermost level. It's four stories tall and their room - a suite - is on the third floor with a view over the hotel's private gardens. Byakuya checked himself in before meeting with Ichigo and consequently, all he needs do to is take them both through the small lobby, up the elevator and down a short hallway where, at the far end, he lets them in with his keycard.
The heavy hotel door opens and closes behind him with a soft snick of the locks.
Acutely, just like that, he can sense how thoroughly they've locked out the world. He can hear the sound of Ichigo's breathing now, the rustling of his clothes and turns towards him slowly, his gaze downcast. He thinks about that tenseness in the other man's body again, his fingers itching to touch, to take all that edginess and release it. ]
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The walk here has been undergone in tense silence, Ichigo waking close to him, but not too close, non-disclosure kinda distance, right? It's felt weird somehow, wanting so much to reach out and touch him, while thinking about his cock, about ways to make him feel good, and not doing it. Remembering how he'd felt against Ichigo's skin and not trying to rekindle that feeling.
So, once they've stepped inside and the elegant, discreet door has opened behind them with a click of the locking mechanism, Ichigo turns towards Byakuya, too, looks him up and down once, twice, slowly, figuring that he probably knows how to open a pair of jeans that aren't his own. Figuring that otherwise, he'll learn it fast, yeah?
He backs him up against the shut door in two steps, crowding him against the hard surface with an arm on either side of his head. Like that, they're standing so close, his breath feels moist and hot against Byakuya's chin, lips, Ichigo kisses him lightly on the lips, sends him a crooked smile and then, unceremoniously, drops to his knees in front of him.
While he reaches for his belt, buttons, zipper, Ichigo's breath stutters out of him, faint and uneven. He has definitely been thinking about this. All seven days since last time, and he unzips Byakuya fast and efficiently, fingers freeing his cock from his boxerbriefs, angling him upwards slightly. He's not completely hard, but that's okay. It's gonna come. Ichigo's sure.
Same smile, slightly lifted eyebrow, he says: ]
Been thinking about sucking your cock since I saw you come out of the shower like that back in Kyoto. [ He licks his lips in an attempt to feel for how wet he can make himself, how much he can slick up. ] Should've done it then, but it's fine. We have time now.
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There's something to be said for being locked away with someone else for a change.
Byakuya's in the shower now, washing off the evidence of many hours' worth of sex. The water is hot and decadent, not unlike the food - as it turns out, they both prefer it spicy and the hotel restaurant, deeply expensive, has delivered very respectfully on that account. He can still taste the aftershocks of those togarashi fried rice, though his body is certainly more preoccupied with the echoes of touch, of Ichigo's fingerprints which are everywhere, sticking to him even with water and soap running off his body. He likes the thought of that.
Eyes closed, one hand supporting himself against the wall, he thinks about the conversations they've had - about Ichigo's job and education (interesting), about the Kuchiki family monetary structures in the world of the living (not... as interesting, he barely even takes an interest in general) and last, about the re-building of the Sereitei.
That part still lingers with him now as he washes off. It's complicated, going over the same, awful wounds the war left on their world, day after day, to see something new arise on top of them. In spite of them.
Right now, within the quiet world of this hotel, against the backdrop of the day they've spent together, Ichigo and him, all those restoration efforts, all that destruction - it seems very far away, somehow. ]
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Maybe... What are the chances that Byakuya is gonna mind? Really. After everything.
They've chatted over dinner, about boring stuff like Ichigo's new parttime and his studies, a bit less boring stuff like how the heck Byakuya suddenly has money in the World of the Living, and the real interesting things -- like the rebuilding efforts in Soul Society. The work that fills Byakuya's life now. They talked about that, too. Ichigo still feels the sadness from him, when they breached that subject. Something unpleasant and painful.
His hands flex again. Slowly, he starts moving towards the sound of running water, the slapping, wet sound of skin on tiles, water on skin. Once he steps inside the room, he shoulders out of his bathrobe and walks over to the glass door, tapping twice on it with his knuckles. ]
It's me. Can I come in?
[ Although he isn't rude enough to just walk in without asking first, Ichigo isn't polite enough either to wait until he's told yes before stepping inside, gasping lightly as the first thin spray hits him. Looking Byakuya up and down quickly, standing with one arm supporting him against the cubicle wall, Ichigo doesn't tell him to make room. Rather, he rather unceremoniously drapes himself all over his back, so close that there's no room left between them. He rests his cheek against his shoulder, the other man's hair like a drapery between.
They're rebuilding as well, right? Or, they're both part of the rebuilding efforts, if nothing else. They're not in it alone. ]
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- your identity
- that this is your number going forwards
- your current date, time and location for the sake of proper calibration between our devices
Signed (for transparency),
Kuchiki Byakuya
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None of that other crap is necessary. It's Ichigo. Clear?
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He sighs and pats Senbonzakura with one hand, just a quick stroke of fingers against the hilt. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow everything will be back to normal. He eyes the Senkaimon, feeling already too exhausted to even contemplate the process of opening the gate, stepping through it and exiting on the opposite side. From there, however, it will be... easier. Presumably. He will, after all, be intruding and one can never expect a warm welcome on that basis.
In his hand, his cellphone stubbornly pinpoints Ichigo at the exact same location as before. In his room, working away even now with sunrise on the verge of catching up to him.
Back straightening forcibly, he raises his chin, opens the gate and steps through, refusing to give into the surge of nausea that immediately follows at the expenditure of energy. He finds himself in front of Ichigo's closed bedroom window, hovering in the air. The house is silent and dark all over, except for here where Ichigo's desk light illuminates his small bedroom with harsh persistency. Ichigo, himself, has left his spot, though judging from the state of his work, it is temporary. He's not in his bed, at any rate.
Blinking blearily, Byakuya opens the window carefully and steps inside, finding himself suddenly - and for the first time - in the other man's bedroom. Rukia has told him stories, of course, but to see it for himself... He keeps his reiatsu tightly under wraps, knowing full well who's sleeping on the floor beneath them and very unwilling to have that particular confrontation at this point in time. Instead, he looks around a little listlessly, feeling somewhat out of his element. He glances askance towards Ichigo's bed again.
It looks much too neat. Like it hasn't been disturbed for many, many consecutive hours. ]
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Since then, every waking hour not spent on school work, which he's neglecting a bit anyway, or his family, who he's trying not to neglect in the same way and probably failing, Ichigo spends sitting at his desk or at the library or at a cafe, translating I. R. Miller's A Thousand Days of Wonder, on the surface a pretty simple detective novel, but the detective in question, Charlie Weaver, can see and talk to ghosts and the way those ghosts are portrayed... Yeah, Ichigo's pretty sure that Miller, the author, must be able to see spirits, too. No one gets these things right if they don't understand it themselves.
Anyway... He wants Byakuya to read it. He thinks the Shinigami would like it.
He hopes. Because he's gonna finish it on time and have a copy printed, paid out of pocket, and give it to him at his celebrations. That's the plan.
A guy still has to go take a leak sometimes, though. So, when Ichigo returns from the bathroom, righting his pyjamas bottoms, he fully expects to sit right back down at the desk and continue.
What he finds, though, is one (very tired-looking) Kuchiki Byakuya lounging inside, near the window and the desk and the novel still on his desk(!) and he can't even flail properly, because that would wake up his sisters and his dad! Jeez! He said, track yourself, not track yourself to here, right? Waving his hand silently, he quickly crosses the floor until he's close enough to be able to angrily whisper, ]
Byakuya! Shit, what are you doing here?! Didn't I tell you... [ Groaning, still very mutedly, Ichigo grabs the Shinigami by the sleeve of his shihakusho and drags him over to the foot of the bed where the view from the open door is more obscured. He's not in a gigai, so Yuzu can't see him, at least, but it won't save him from... Fuck. ] Never mind. Why are you here? Is everything okay?
[ He doesn't say, you look tired, but it means that as well. ]
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[ And to thank the other man properly, have a photo, taken from somewhere above his head, his arm completely extended to get as much of him into the frame as possible. Ichigo is in a changing room at his local gym, hair still wet from his shower and his chest bare, some droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His jeans are hugging his hips and waist, framing him in from beneath. His legs are out of frame.
He's smiling, sharply. It's only a little bit of a challenge. He misses Byakuya, these days. Thinking about him all the time, as he works on the translation which is coming along okay. He wants the other man to miss as well. ]
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For Byakuya.
Byakuya, the bastard, who receives a shirtless picture and proceeds to do nothing. If he hasn't gone off to wank or something, Ichigo is gonna beat up his ass. Ichigo huffs as he moves through the gym, quietly and withdrawn, no one greets him, although they all know who he is, the guy with the orange hair, about to head out into the streets again. It was a brief workout tonight. Shirtless selfie was the best thing to come of it, too.
Ichigo frowns.
Then, he comes to a complete halt, turning his head slowly and looking towards the spot where the vending machines are kept along with the small collection of chairs and tables, to catch a break at, though they're only sparingly used. It's in use now, however. Byakuya is sitting there, dressed nicely in his gigai and ignoring the cup of tea he seems to have pulled from the machine. Yeah, he must really hate that. Ichigo remains rooted to the spot for another couple of seconds, then he walks over and places himself right up in the other man's personal space, frown deepening. ]
Hey, you can't not reply to that kind of picture. What was I gonna think, that you didn't like it, that -- [ His voice drops in volume into a hoarse mutter, and he really hopes the blush creeping across the bridge of his nose isn't too evident. ] -- you really, really liked it or?? Byakuya.
[ He's irritated, sure, but most of all he's extremely happy to see him. Beats a text back anyway. ]
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He'd come straight here.
It's been a month. To have him suddenly so thoroughly in front of him, yet so far away and out of reach - that had been intolerable. He hadn't even considered taking the time to return his text; though he's certainly improving, as would be expected, he still takes too long to write on that tiny screen, his fingertips stumbling half of the time. It never fails to annoy him and at that moment, with the thought and sight of Ichigo's half-naked body seemingly fused to his mind, he'd had no patience for such inadequacy whatsoever.
Now, though, with Ichigo standing in front of him and looking equal parts irritated and abashed, he wonders whether it wasn't perhaps a bit... inconsiderate on his part. To effectively leave him hanging like this. He'd thought it was obvious, really, that he'd like it. That he'd like it too much to stay away, even.
Getting to his feet and ignoring the tea - abysmal, he could tell without even trying a single sip; someone else will have to clean it away, he's not touching it any further - he pauses like that, the distance between their bodies very short, nearly but not quite annulled. He could touch him now, if he wanted to. If Ichigo wanted him to. His hand actually twitches forward visibly before he aborts the motion. ]
I will remember in the future. To tell you exactly what I think about such pictures.
[ He meets Ichigo's eyes directly. His voice remains even, though there might be a small, near-invisible flush crawling up the sides of his nose. He'd looked very enticing, yes. Very. ]
So please keep sending them.
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Instead, they're sitting opposite each other at the small table by the window, a nice-looking guy having served them a bottle of medium-priced sake, chilled, because it's exactly expensive enough for that, right? Ichigo wraps his fingers around the small cup, tipping it a bit restlessly back and forth, glimpsing the liquid within at every tilt towards himself. His hands feel restless, eager to touch... other things. He looks over at Byakuya. They've had red curry for dinner, it was good, but honestly - neither of them is here for the curry, even if they at least agree on tastes, huh.
Some years back, he'd never have thought he'd even think something like that.
Shifting in his seat, he extends his legs beneath the table, the nose of his shoe brushing against Byakuya's ankle and he pauses, lips pursed, before pushing against him more insistently. Feeling how he doesn't give.
That's both really freakin' aggravating and really enticing at the same time. So, he comments, kinda off-handedly, kinda not off-handedly at all, ]
You didn't say how you liked the picture. [ There's a slight blush to his cheeks, though it fades quickly, almost forcibly, when he quickly adds, like making a deal or an offer: ] I'll go first, for the sake of fairness.
[ With a lick of his lips, he takes a sip of his sake and watches Byakuya over the rim of it. It's the best sake he'd had in a long time, but hell - he's a university student, he would ration his food, if he didn't still live at home. ]
The only thing I thought about, when you sent that picture of the koi, was how I'm glad you gotta look at that vase every day. [ Silence for a while. ] Even if it's for my mom, it feels a bit like it represents me, too.
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It comes down, at least in part, to the way the noble families have handled the distribution of power.
He's glad not to get political about it but he notices, all the same, just as he notices that the sake they're drinking is of a good quality, despite the relatively low pricing.
Ichigo, opposite him, is getting restless. He's been less than enthused about taking the time to feed himself but obviously, whether Shinigami or human or hybrids thereof, they all need food to preserve and replenish energy. It's the logical sequence of things. Particularly if they wish to do more than just fall asleep when they get to the hotel they've booked. Regardless, of course, Ichigo thinks he can skip all necessities - the man who achieved bankai in three (3!) days, who rushed straight into Hueco Mundo without taking even the most basic, competent back-up (he's thinking about Renji and Rukia here, though Rukia is obviously not basic), then proceeded to face God knows how many top-tier Espada before getting his arse well and truly handed to him by a very unworthy opponent - of course, he will run himself ragged before he admits that he needs anything.
In retrospect, it's all very obvious.
Byakuya nudges him back with his foot, unconcerned. Sips his sake, one eyebrow quirking very slightly as Ichigo proceeds to tell him what he'd thought of the (mild, very harmless) picture Byakuya had sent him earlier, clearly expecting a conversational trade-off in return. Except, the picture he sent back... Byakuya pauses. Looks down at his sake, his gaze blank, seemingly unbothered. Inside, though, his mind cheerfully parades half-naked Ichigo in front of his inner eye, his body growing warmer almost instantly at the thought alone.
His lips twists for a moment. He could get around this with ease, of course - it would be as easy as to say, I appreciated the composition of your picture and the fact that you at least wore trousers but he's in the mood for something different. The sake is good, his blood feels lighter because of it. And Ichigo's foot is solid and strong against his ankle. Present.
So he says, voice as bland as always: ]
When I received your picture, I was mid-walk in my gardens, which was quite unfortunate. [ He keeps his gaze down-turned, though he isn't truly looking at the sake anymore. ] It was a long way back to my bedroom with a hard-on.
[ Another sip. ]
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Besides his Zanpakuto, strapped to his back, he's carrying a duffelbag over his other shoulder, too, packed with whatever he's gonna need for a five day stay in Soul Society, honestly, staying with Byakuya, he could probably get most of this stuff or similar through him, but he doesn't wanna be a burden - besides, there's a tux among his things right now that he wouldn't be able to get here anyway and he already made up his mind about wearing it at the other man's party. No shikahusho, because that would be like showing up to his celebrations in freakin' scrubs. And no kimono either.
Tux is what he'd wear back home, it's how Byakuya knows him. He's gonna stand out in this crowd like that, but Ichigo's used to that. At least, in Soul Society, it isn't the hair.
As he walks through the long hallways of the mansion, he notices the frantic activity of everybody, suddenly glad he brought his own stuff, no one here should have had to find the time to get him anything. However, with the level of activity, he doesn't bother asking anyone for directions, just feeling out Byakuya's reiatsu and finding him in the opposite end of the compound, heading that way without a word.
Another thing he's brought is the book, of course. He got the printed copy off the print service two days ago and spent all this time trying to decide whether to wait or not to, ending up concluding that this is a personal gift for Byakuya. His party doesn't seem very personal, more of a family affair, and Ichigo doesn't want to share this thing with the whole Kuchiki Clan, so he'd come. Before that, he'd asked Yuzu to wrap it up for him, nicely, and she'd looked at him while working, wanting to know whether it was for a girl. Ichigo, at least, hadn't lied when he'd said no.
Who's it for, then? Seems the kind of gift you'd give someone you liked, Ichi-nii.
Mind your own business, he'd told her, but the way she'd smiled had made Ichigo eventually scratch his head, shuffle his feet and admitted, it's for someone I'm seeing.
In her usual Yuzu-ish way, his little sister had asked, a nice person?
Ichigo had thought about Byakuya for a moment, then, trying to decide if he thought that description fit, then shrugged, embarrassed, yeah.
In the end, Yuzu had smiled and wrapped the book up in black and pink fabric with a cherry blossom motif and for someone who had never met Byakuya, Ichigo had to give it to her. That was on the nose, huh.
All of that is sitting in his bag, as he unceremoniously, and without getting stopped on the way, enters Byakuya's own quarters, finding the man seated at a low table, eating. Saying only one thing, Ichigo acts as if there's nothing weird about him being here two days in advance and bringing a big bag of crap from home and moves over to sit down opposite him, duffelbag dropped to one side, Zanpakuto eased off to the other. ]
Enjoy your meal.
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This year, though, he's had... a novel urge. He doesn't quite know why or how it's come about but since moving into the new year, he's felt oddly restless, untethered, in a fashion. As if the ground beneath him is changing and he's standing there, mid-motion, trying to maintain some kind of balance. The thought makes him want to move - that is, after all, the easiest way to remain standing on one's feet when your foundation trembles. Thus, he's moved towards taking a more active part in the planning of his birthday, much to his servants and Seike's (well-hidden and undisclosed) dismay. Today, two days before, they are still rushing to implement the last-minute changes he's dictated. One of them involves the food. It was nowhere near spicy enough. Another concerned the seating arrangements - a rather important change, at that.
He has no intentions of allowing Rukia, Renji and Ichigo to be seated so far away from him in favour of Great-Aunt Yukina and her (slightly) extended family. Not to mention, the ten girls they've arranged for, all of varying noble birth, all of whom will be seated so he won't have to look at them continuously throughout dinner.
Sensible changes, surely. He's perfectly at ease. So much so, that he has had enough spare energy to be awake every night, too, ever since the start of January.
When he senses Ichigo's reiatsu suddenly bursting to life in his mansion, he quite simply stays seated with his dinner, gaze down-cast and movements as careful as ever. He remains like that until Ichigo has seated himself, then waits half a second to hear the footsteps outside his rooms indicate that his personal servants are already rushing to the kitchens to bring in another round of servings.
Then, he looks up slowly. Takes him in as he sits there, a bag on one side and his Zanpakuto on the other, mirroring Senbonzakura on its stand next to Byakuya.
The ground, he thinks, has stopped shaking.
Remarkable. ]
It's in two days.
[ He puts down his chopsticks gently. His voice is mild, perhaps even a little too light when he adds: ]
Must you always be ahead of things? Ichigo.
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