[ 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. ]
[ He senses Ichigo coming out of the building just as Ichigo must have certainly sensed his presence as well. Regardless, he keeps his gaze down and his focus on his tea (it's not quite as good as the matcha he drank in that small tea shop back in Kyoto but on the spectrum from proper tea to preboiled and served in a plastic cup, it's not doing too badly). He feels him, though. Every step towards him, every moment that passes.
There's some small commotion when Ichigo stops dead in the middle of the crowd. Byakuya cares little about the girls that nearly collided with him - no, what matters is the fact that he's clearly been noticed and not, as one might have feared, ignored. Then, moments later, Ichigo makes his way over, the long, sharp lines of his body instantly recognisable to him in a way that they weren't before. He's tried (and sometimes, failed) not to think back on what they did together too much but clearly, his mind has saved the imprints of Ichigo all the same, of the way his body fills out the space around him.
Treacherous.
He sips his tea as Ichigo comes to a halt in front of him. Though he doesn't actively look up at him, he's taking him in from beneath his lashes; the way his hands tighten into fists, his forced inhalations. His own shoulders lower a fraction in response.
It's good to know that he isn't the only one not taking things for granted. ]
Then, you would have told me your honest opinion.
[ He doesn't shift to the side. There's plenty of room on the bench regardless, he'd never be rude enough to sit squarely in the middle by himself anyway. His next words are spoken as drily as the rest, though he does look up very slightly over the rim of his cup, his gaze a lot heavier than his voice: ]
[ Ichigo frowns, staring down at Byakuya, nursing his tea like he hadn't left it completely up to dumb luck for Ichigo not to signal that he was still interested. Honest opinion, come on!
With a scoff, he eyes the bench, quickly calculates whether there's enough room for him to sit and be close enough for it to feel satisfying, but far enough away that half Sodai's female student body doesn't go into a fit about boy's love or whatever. There's no really easy solution to that headache yet, and feeling a bit daunted by the realization, Ichigo concludes there won't be in any foreseeable future either. They either have the privacy that they can make for themselves, meaning never at Ichigo's house, or he learns to tolerate being different in just some other way. Shouldn't be new to him, honestly. His shoulders remain up high around his ears and he looks around slowly, as if surveying a battlefield, making those kinds of calls.
When it shouldn't be anything like that anymore.
Turning his head back towards Byakuya, he takes him in, in his slim-fit jeans and long scarf that fits the maple trees and the season. His hair's tied up, but his bangs are still everywhere and frame in his face, his grey eyes. Ichigo's fingers itch to reach up and push it out of there, out of the way. He didn't wait around for a week not to do any of this crap.
Yet, his hands don't move from his sides. His voice, when he speaks again, is quiet, very controlled. He's looking down. ]
Let's not do this here, okay? [ A brief pause, then he signals very lightly around them, shoulders dropping gradually, until he feels less on the fence about everything. He just... ] Don't want to share it with everyone.
[ Recalling that night, last time, he feels himself flushing slightly and bends his neck lower, more or less trying to hide in his hair. It's not a perfect plan, especially since Byakuya is sitting down and can look right up into his face, but it's gonna have to do. ]
[ Ichigo looks at the spot on the bench next to Byakuya, scoffing and looking decidedly tenser than the situation truly calls for - it's a bench, not a fight - but watching the other man now, you wouldn't necessarily know it. His gaze goes back to Byakuya after a moment, looking him over before he tells him that he'd rather not do this here, his stance hard. Then, he drops his gaze. For a second, just a second, Byakuya's mind flashes back to Hisana asking him in that soft, bird-like voice of hers for his forgiveness, I am such an embarrassment for you, not for anything she'd done but for the glares she'd draw from his family just for drawing breath in their vicinity.
She fought a different battle, certainly, but a battle all the same. His chest tightens. Looking Ichigo over for a short moment, he gets to his feet in front of him. ]
Of course not.
[ He looks around briefly. Though people aren't actively gawking, he can see groups of girls in particular, eying Ichigo from the walkway he's just left, whispering and giggling amongst each other. He doesn't know much about human culture - for instance, it took him a while (meaning several dinners at Rukia's and Renji's, listening to their idle conversations) to understand that Ichigo's hair is, apparently, an issue in the world of the living. As if he doesn't stand out enough already, with everything he's been burdened with throughout the years. Humans have such peculiar priorities.
And even in Sereitei, being intimate in public in any capacity would be frowned upon.
He steps close enough for their shoulders to brush, lingering for just a second too long to make it seem accidental and starts down the road slowly, leisurely. ]
I have a booked a room. I didn't think your home would be appropriate.
[ It's said flatly, but without any malice. Ichigo knows and respects his dad, his dad's methods and besides, his sisters have grown up right, usual teen behaviour or not. Sure, his dad's way of doing things isn't perfect but it's kept things running for more than a decade now.
They've all done the best they could, without her. Once more, Ichigo thinks of the flowers that Byakuya has continuously had exchanged with new ones in the vase on the bench in his garden. Like a shrine away from home.
Who knows, maybe Ichigo will be going to Soul Society more often now as well, what with... He looks at Byakuya who has gotten to his feet, starting down the road, moving so close by Ichigo that their shoulder's brushed. Ichigo follows, adding, softer: ]
Would be a shame. I like it.
[ All respect aside, Isshin is still gonna beat Ichigo up for sleeping around with a guy, first, and then he's gonna beat Byakuya up for being that guy. Going somewhere else than home seems a good call.
Byakuya has gotten good at those. Better.
Ichigo catches up to him in five steps, falling into line next to him wordlessly. Close enough that every other step, their shoulders brush. ]
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saviorcomplexed) wrote2025-03-17 12:16 pm
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
There's some small commotion when Ichigo stops dead in the middle of the crowd. Byakuya cares little about the girls that nearly collided with him - no, what matters is the fact that he's clearly been noticed and not, as one might have feared, ignored. Then, moments later, Ichigo makes his way over, the long, sharp lines of his body instantly recognisable to him in a way that they weren't before. He's tried (and sometimes, failed) not to think back on what they did together too much but clearly, his mind has saved the imprints of Ichigo all the same, of the way his body fills out the space around him.
Treacherous.
He sips his tea as Ichigo comes to a halt in front of him. Though he doesn't actively look up at him, he's taking him in from beneath his lashes; the way his hands tighten into fists, his forced inhalations. His own shoulders lower a fraction in response.
It's good to know that he isn't the only one not taking things for granted. ]
Then, you would have told me your honest opinion.
[ He doesn't shift to the side. There's plenty of room on the bench regardless, he'd never be rude enough to sit squarely in the middle by himself anyway. His next words are spoken as drily as the rest, though he does look up very slightly over the rim of his cup, his gaze a lot heavier than his voice: ]
You'll have to let me know in other ways.
no subject
With a scoff, he eyes the bench, quickly calculates whether there's enough room for him to sit and be close enough for it to feel satisfying, but far enough away that half Sodai's female student body doesn't go into a fit about boy's love or whatever. There's no really easy solution to that headache yet, and feeling a bit daunted by the realization, Ichigo concludes there won't be in any foreseeable future either. They either have the privacy that they can make for themselves, meaning never at Ichigo's house, or he learns to tolerate being different in just some other way. Shouldn't be new to him, honestly. His shoulders remain up high around his ears and he looks around slowly, as if surveying a battlefield, making those kinds of calls.
When it shouldn't be anything like that anymore.
Turning his head back towards Byakuya, he takes him in, in his slim-fit jeans and long scarf that fits the maple trees and the season. His hair's tied up, but his bangs are still everywhere and frame in his face, his grey eyes. Ichigo's fingers itch to reach up and push it out of there, out of the way. He didn't wait around for a week not to do any of this crap.
Yet, his hands don't move from his sides. His voice, when he speaks again, is quiet, very controlled. He's looking down. ]
Let's not do this here, okay? [ A brief pause, then he signals very lightly around them, shoulders dropping gradually, until he feels less on the fence about everything. He just... ] Don't want to share it with everyone.
[ Recalling that night, last time, he feels himself flushing slightly and bends his neck lower, more or less trying to hide in his hair. It's not a perfect plan, especially since Byakuya is sitting down and can look right up into his face, but it's gonna have to do. ]
no subject
She fought a different battle, certainly, but a battle all the same. His chest tightens. Looking Ichigo over for a short moment, he gets to his feet in front of him. ]
Of course not.
[ He looks around briefly. Though people aren't actively gawking, he can see groups of girls in particular, eying Ichigo from the walkway he's just left, whispering and giggling amongst each other. He doesn't know much about human culture - for instance, it took him a while (meaning several dinners at Rukia's and Renji's, listening to their idle conversations) to understand that Ichigo's hair is, apparently, an issue in the world of the living. As if he doesn't stand out enough already, with everything he's been burdened with throughout the years. Humans have such peculiar priorities.
And even in Sereitei, being intimate in public in any capacity would be frowned upon.
He steps close enough for their shoulders to brush, lingering for just a second too long to make it seem accidental and starts down the road slowly, leisurely. ]
I have a booked a room. I didn't think your home would be appropriate.
no subject
[ It's said flatly, but without any malice. Ichigo knows and respects his dad, his dad's methods and besides, his sisters have grown up right, usual teen behaviour or not. Sure, his dad's way of doing things isn't perfect but it's kept things running for more than a decade now.
They've all done the best they could, without her. Once more, Ichigo thinks of the flowers that Byakuya has continuously had exchanged with new ones in the vase on the bench in his garden. Like a shrine away from home.
Who knows, maybe Ichigo will be going to Soul Society more often now as well, what with... He looks at Byakuya who has gotten to his feet, starting down the road, moving so close by Ichigo that their shoulder's brushed. Ichigo follows, adding, softer: ]
Would be a shame. I like it.
[ All respect aside, Isshin is still gonna beat Ichigo up for sleeping around with a guy, first, and then he's gonna beat Byakuya up for being that guy. Going somewhere else than home seems a good call.
Byakuya has gotten good at those. Better.
Ichigo catches up to him in five steps, falling into line next to him wordlessly. Close enough that every other step, their shoulders brush. ]