saviorcomplexed | psl

[ It seems redundant, somehow, to regret the tea.

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. ]

[ 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.

And it's just a question. Implicit, but there. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

And a terrible curiosity. ]

[ 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. ]

Wake up. Ichigo.

[ 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.

Not in any positive way, either.

Pity, that. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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 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. ]

Please confirm:

- 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

Thanks for the invitation.

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

Enjoy your meal.

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