[ It's gradually becoming obvious to him that around this man, he must be more wary of ambiguity, even whilst unintentional. He watches as Ichigo's expression goes from relatively unmoved - neutral, observant - to something that feels entirely too familiar. The alertness of the battlefield, now in full effect in the midst of this peaceful little tea shop, just because Byakuya mentioned Rukia and left an opening for doubt. He looks at Ichigo, his own gaze sharpening briefly in response before he inhales, sips his tea just to take the edge off his own instinctive response - they haven't been at war for years, true, but neither his body nor Senbonzakura knows how to fully settle with that knowledge - and finally just says, voice calm: ]
And they are.
[ It occurs to him then that no, Ichigo has not been told. It's not his place to do so, of course. When Rukia told him, unfortunately she had not prepared him sufficiently beforehand and consequently, there'd been an open-mouthed servant in the near-vicinity who'd gone on to gossip with another and from there, the fire had spread. When Rukia had lived in the mansion under his explicit protection, such an embarrassing thing would not have happened.
However, the point is - the news travelled. Perhaps that's why Rukia has not bothered to share them with her close friend group; he thinks perhaps (sadly, unfortunately) she's a little tired of the whole thing. ]
They will tell you soon, I'm sure. [ He looks back at his tea. Licks his lips, just to make sure there's no foam left on them. ] But they are very happy. You have nothing to worry about.
[ He adds that last part with complete steadiness, catching Ichigo's gaze and holding it firmly. ]
[ Maybe, sitting opposite someone else, Ichigo would have protested. What's that supposed to mean anyway, they will tell you soon, what? What will they tell him? He shifts a bit on his pillow and abandons the long spoon in his chocolate, leaning back on his hands to stare, affronted, at Byakuya for a long moment, about to say all these things to him, complain loudly about how utterly inarticulate and uninformative he's being, shit. Then, he is met by the other man's firm, steady gaze and something in Ichigo's head clicks into place, so he ends up just sitting there. Staring.
They will tell him soon enough. And they are very happy.
Oh.
Ichigo's eyes widen comically for a moment, then his whole expression softens and he actually smiles slightly, leaning forward again to poke about in his hot chocolate with his spoon, considering what to say. How much of what he's feeling to give away. It kinda feels like it should be Rukia's to see, but supposedly she would just think he should be honoured to be able to express himself at all in Byakuya's vicinity.
Rukia... who's going to be... Renji, too... ]
I see.
[ Just that, for a long moment.
Then, he shrugs one shoulder, inclining his head so he can glance back up at Byakuya without actively raising his face. Thud, thud, thud goes the spoon in the cup. He lifts it casually and sucks the thin layer of whipped cream and chocolate off of it, before muttering: ]
I'm happy for them. Rukia deserves to have that kind of joy.
[ The other man is so openly expressive that Byakuya gets to follow the entire progression of emotions as he considers his words in depth - from protest to frustration to that moment when he understands that no danger is present and from there... He exhales slowly as Ichigo visibly calms down, apparently reaching the appropriate conclusion without further assistance. For a moment, he's actually... somewhat relieved. He wouldn't have known how to elaborate without giving away too much and he knows from experience how well (or rather, how badly) the other man takes to having information withheld from him when he thinks he's entitled to it.
No wonder, really, if he gets worried this easily.
However, in this case apparently his subtlety isn't wasted on him and Byakuya takes a moment to reflect upon this strange, new reality in which he's drinking tea with someone who doesn't necessarily need to have everything spelled out to them. Then, he further reflects on the fact that the person in question is Kurosaki Ichigo and decides to save this whole contemplation for another day.
Instead, he sips his tea again. Can't help but follow the motion of Ichigo's spoon as it goes into the cup, then back up to his lips. Blink. Blink.
Well. ]
Of course.
[ Under normal circumstances, Byakuya is in absolutely no need to smalltalk, ever, with anyone. Consequently, he's out of practice (by several decades, as it were). For a few long, out-stretched seconds, silence descends between them, not necessarily heavy or uncomfortable but all the same, it feels... like he ought to take the chance. To get to know something about this man, seeing as he very clearly knows next to nothing. ]
What do you study?
[ Just the thought of Ichigo actually sitting in a classroom, listening, participating - well, Byakuya obviously wouldn't know how that goes, seeing as he's never had the misfortune himself but it's hard to believe the other man would have the submissiveness it requires to not just learn but to learn at someone else's pace. ]
[ A not uncomfortable silence falls between them. Neither will Ichigo go as far as to call it 'comfortable', not exactly, they're both a bit too ill at ease at the newness of the situation, Byakuya and him, sitting together this way, but it isn't awkward or tense, at least. It just kind of is. Ichigo leaves it that way, shoveling up more hot chocolate with his spoon and sucking it up, not rude enough to make a lot of sound doing it, but not well-mannered enough to drink it out of his cup like a normal person either. Byakuya doesn't comment on it anyway, so it mustn't bother him.
Instead, he looks at him, their eyes meeting over the rim of their respective cups, and asks what he studies, like that's a thing Kuchiki Byakuya cares about, it's not even something that concerns him in any practical sense. Nor in any way that makes Ichigo's answer matter much, right, because he'll just go back to Soul Society where, as far as Ichigo knows, no one studies the humanities or different languages or anything like that.
Still, he straightens up slightly and raises his chin, answering in a casual, throw-away kinda way: ]
english. [ Remembering having to explain how a straw worked to Rukia, Ichigo explains without even assuming Byakuya would know what that is: ] It's a language, like if I wanted to introduce myself and be polite about it, I'd say... [ And he switches to english seamlessly. ] I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, it's my pleasure to make your acquaintance.
[ A pause, this time slightly awkward. Self-aware, as if he's revealed something rather intimate about himself, when it's just a skill. But it isn't a fighting skill, is it, or a skill for the battlefield. There, it would be freaking useless. If english ever killed anyone, it definitely wasn't like that. ]
Don't expect me to go around showing those kinds of manners in Japanese, though. It'd ruin my image.
[ He makes a mistake, then, by sipping his tea just as Ichigo tells him English and then, proceeding to - oh. He pauses, eyes widening very slightly as his gaze snaps back to the other man. He forgets entirely to swallow the tea for at least three seconds. Perhaps he should have expected - with how determinedly Ichigo straddles many worlds simultaneously, it seems logically fitting, somehow, that he'd do the same with languages - but all the same... Thoughts stuttering whilst his brain tries to remember the proper sequence of actions from this point on, the tea growing progressively cooler on the back of his tongue, he finally forces himself to look away just to give himself a (badly needed) reprieve, a chance to collect himself.
So. Kurosaki Ichigo is an intellectual in his own right, isn't he. He respects his mother's spirit enough to carry her along even past the boundaries of worlds; he studies, not for the sake of fighting but to learn languages and of course, it goes with his prowess on the battlefield because stupid people seldom survive for long - yes, it shouldn't surprise him at all but somehow, it does.
He doesn't know what to do with that, with this new, fuller picture of Ichigo that's slowly shaping itself within his mind.
So he swallows the tea, finally remembering how, then says, voice perhaps a little rough: ]
If not for the sake of showing off - [ Because certainly, he could if he wanted to. ] - what will you do with it?
[ Distractingly, the sound of Ichigo speaking English at him keeps running on repeat at the back of his mind. It's not nearly as bothersome as it ought to be, either, which is probably where the true issue lies. ]
[ It's said mostly as a mutter under his breath, a little off to the side as he turns his head away from Byakuya's eyes - his eyes and his voice, sounding weirdly rough around the edges and it's that roughnes that makes Ichigo realize, maybe he was showing off, just somewhat. Maybe he was trying to get that reaction out of the other man and why would he? Why the heck would it matter?
He studies this language about half the day, every day, he wakes up to the sound of it and falls asleep across his books at his desk sometimes. It shouldn't be necessary to show it off, right? Anymore than he'd show off his Zanpakuto.
Still, a Reiatsu flare isn't just for warning, is it? It's for calling attention to yourself, too, the right kind.
He purses his lips and considers Byakuya's question a long moment, a frown on his face. It's not like he doesn't know what he'll do with it, it's not like he doesn't know what all this work will amount to.
It's more that it still seems like so little compared to what has gone before. ]
Probably work as a translator. Possibly a teacher, though I'm not sure I've got the temper for that. [ A long shrug. Ichigo picks up the cup of, at this point, lukewarm chocolate and finally sips it like a grown person. ] More Ishida's thing.
[ He catches that mutter for what it is and lets him have it - after all, it was a rude implication in the first place, a rudeness born mostly from Byakuya's own surprise and thus, uncalled for. Then, he waits for Ichigo to answer his question, the other man pursing his lips and frowning like it troubles him. It's a fairly straightforward thing to ask, presumably. Byakuya sips his tea again, just to chase away the aftertaste of his last, disastrous attempt, and wonders why so many seemingly easy things seem to become hurdles or sources of resistance for the other man. He remembers... well, the weeks and months following the last war, they'd all been so preoccupied with planing ahead, figuring out reconstructive efforts and tallying their dead at the same time that in effect, it had felt as if they'd never truly finished the battles. When you walk through the Sereitei today, it still feels like that in a way - the ruins are there, after all, the scars and markings impossible to overlook.
The battlefield is a permanent fixture and he thinks, even with rebuilding, even when everything stands as they want it to, it will never truly disappear.
Then, there's this world. The bustling modernisation, the traffic, the noisiness, yet people are expected to simply live normal lives, to get... jobs, educations, families. There's no war to be fought, perhaps, except for whatever troubles you encounter on a personal level. Not sure I've got the temper, says Ichigo about teaching, mentioning - who is it, oh yes, the Quincy friend. Byakuya watches him for a long moment. The sense of alienation, he realises, is stark around Ichigo. It's him and the rest.
A translator, too, is a type of bridge between places. ]
That sounds worthwhile.
[ Perhaps in Soul Society, it wouldn't be, at least not now - after all, though certain norms are changing slowly but surely, outside influences remain rare. What little they take from the World of the Living are additions, assimilated into the ordinary, normal daily life that they lead. Nothing progresses from that. Nothing changes.
But Kyoto has certainly changed. ]
You bring change where you go, Ichigo. [ He looks at him over the rim of his cup, his gaze quiet. Calm. ] That requires a specific kind of temper, perhaps, just as teaching requires another.
[ It shouldn't matter, not here. In the World of the Living, Byakuya is just a visitor, in some forms just a ghost invisible to most people, even if Ichigo can see him no matter what. Dreams about him at night as well. It shouldn't mean anything when this man who almost had Rukia killed, and Ichigo too for that matter, says that sounds worthwhile, but still Ichigo pauses in his intake of hot chocolate, feeling his face heat up slightly, just across the bridge of his nose. He wrinkles it, trying to get rid of the feeling, hoping the motion will make it less noticeable, not more.
Still, because evidently he doesn't care, when all comes down to it, he bows his head and lets his bangs fall into his eyes, staring down at his own hands. Wrapped around the cup convulsively.
You bring change where you go, Byakuya says. And then his name. Somehow, Ichigo thinks, just his name like that would've been enough.
He takes a moment to identify the feeling inside of him. That's pride, huh. If nothing else, it's fitting that Byakuya of all people is the one to awaken that in him. Ichigo keeps looking down, but he's smiling now. Small, but undeniable. His whole face changes. ]
Is that so? [ After another second, he finally glances first up and across the table at Byakuya, then quickly to the side, out the window. ] Yeah, guess you're right.
[ In that slip of time, he feels, something changing. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saviorcomplexed) wrote2025-03-17 12:16 pm
no subject
And they are.
[ It occurs to him then that no, Ichigo has not been told. It's not his place to do so, of course. When Rukia told him, unfortunately she had not prepared him sufficiently beforehand and consequently, there'd been an open-mouthed servant in the near-vicinity who'd gone on to gossip with another and from there, the fire had spread. When Rukia had lived in the mansion under his explicit protection, such an embarrassing thing would not have happened.
However, the point is - the news travelled. Perhaps that's why Rukia has not bothered to share them with her close friend group; he thinks perhaps (sadly, unfortunately) she's a little tired of the whole thing. ]
They will tell you soon, I'm sure. [ He looks back at his tea. Licks his lips, just to make sure there's no foam left on them. ] But they are very happy. You have nothing to worry about.
[ He adds that last part with complete steadiness, catching Ichigo's gaze and holding it firmly. ]
no subject
They will tell him soon enough. And they are very happy.
Oh.
Ichigo's eyes widen comically for a moment, then his whole expression softens and he actually smiles slightly, leaning forward again to poke about in his hot chocolate with his spoon, considering what to say. How much of what he's feeling to give away. It kinda feels like it should be Rukia's to see, but supposedly she would just think he should be honoured to be able to express himself at all in Byakuya's vicinity.
Rukia... who's going to be... Renji, too... ]
I see.
[ Just that, for a long moment.
Then, he shrugs one shoulder, inclining his head so he can glance back up at Byakuya without actively raising his face. Thud, thud, thud goes the spoon in the cup. He lifts it casually and sucks the thin layer of whipped cream and chocolate off of it, before muttering: ]
I'm happy for them. Rukia deserves to have that kind of joy.
no subject
No wonder, really, if he gets worried this easily.
However, in this case apparently his subtlety isn't wasted on him and Byakuya takes a moment to reflect upon this strange, new reality in which he's drinking tea with someone who doesn't necessarily need to have everything spelled out to them. Then, he further reflects on the fact that the person in question is Kurosaki Ichigo and decides to save this whole contemplation for another day.
Instead, he sips his tea again. Can't help but follow the motion of Ichigo's spoon as it goes into the cup, then back up to his lips. Blink. Blink.
Well. ]
Of course.
[ Under normal circumstances, Byakuya is in absolutely no need to smalltalk, ever, with anyone. Consequently, he's out of practice (by several decades, as it were). For a few long, out-stretched seconds, silence descends between them, not necessarily heavy or uncomfortable but all the same, it feels... like he ought to take the chance. To get to know something about this man, seeing as he very clearly knows next to nothing. ]
What do you study?
[ Just the thought of Ichigo actually sitting in a classroom, listening, participating - well, Byakuya obviously wouldn't know how that goes, seeing as he's never had the misfortune himself but it's hard to believe the other man would have the submissiveness it requires to not just learn but to learn at someone else's pace. ]
no subject
Instead, he looks at him, their eyes meeting over the rim of their respective cups, and asks what he studies, like that's a thing Kuchiki Byakuya cares about, it's not even something that concerns him in any practical sense. Nor in any way that makes Ichigo's answer matter much, right, because he'll just go back to Soul Society where, as far as Ichigo knows, no one studies the humanities or different languages or anything like that.
Still, he straightens up slightly and raises his chin, answering in a casual, throw-away kinda way: ]
english. [ Remembering having to explain how a straw worked to Rukia, Ichigo explains without even assuming Byakuya would know what that is: ] It's a language, like if I wanted to introduce myself and be polite about it, I'd say... [ And he switches to english seamlessly. ] I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, it's my pleasure to make your acquaintance.
[ A pause, this time slightly awkward. Self-aware, as if he's revealed something rather intimate about himself, when it's just a skill. But it isn't a fighting skill, is it, or a skill for the battlefield. There, it would be freaking useless. If english ever killed anyone, it definitely wasn't like that. ]
Don't expect me to go around showing those kinds of manners in Japanese, though. It'd ruin my image.
no subject
So. Kurosaki Ichigo is an intellectual in his own right, isn't he. He respects his mother's spirit enough to carry her along even past the boundaries of worlds; he studies, not for the sake of fighting but to learn languages and of course, it goes with his prowess on the battlefield because stupid people seldom survive for long - yes, it shouldn't surprise him at all but somehow, it does.
He doesn't know what to do with that, with this new, fuller picture of Ichigo that's slowly shaping itself within his mind.
So he swallows the tea, finally remembering how, then says, voice perhaps a little rough: ]
If not for the sake of showing off - [ Because certainly, he could if he wanted to. ] - what will you do with it?
[ Distractingly, the sound of Ichigo speaking English at him keeps running on repeat at the back of his mind. It's not nearly as bothersome as it ought to be, either, which is probably where the true issue lies. ]
no subject
[ It's said mostly as a mutter under his breath, a little off to the side as he turns his head away from Byakuya's eyes - his eyes and his voice, sounding weirdly rough around the edges and it's that roughnes that makes Ichigo realize, maybe he was showing off, just somewhat. Maybe he was trying to get that reaction out of the other man and why would he? Why the heck would it matter?
He studies this language about half the day, every day, he wakes up to the sound of it and falls asleep across his books at his desk sometimes. It shouldn't be necessary to show it off, right? Anymore than he'd show off his Zanpakuto.
Still, a Reiatsu flare isn't just for warning, is it? It's for calling attention to yourself, too, the right kind.
He purses his lips and considers Byakuya's question a long moment, a frown on his face. It's not like he doesn't know what he'll do with it, it's not like he doesn't know what all this work will amount to.
It's more that it still seems like so little compared to what has gone before. ]
Probably work as a translator. Possibly a teacher, though I'm not sure I've got the temper for that. [ A long shrug. Ichigo picks up the cup of, at this point, lukewarm chocolate and finally sips it like a grown person. ] More Ishida's thing.
no subject
The battlefield is a permanent fixture and he thinks, even with rebuilding, even when everything stands as they want it to, it will never truly disappear.
Then, there's this world. The bustling modernisation, the traffic, the noisiness, yet people are expected to simply live normal lives, to get... jobs, educations, families. There's no war to be fought, perhaps, except for whatever troubles you encounter on a personal level. Not sure I've got the temper, says Ichigo about teaching, mentioning - who is it, oh yes, the Quincy friend. Byakuya watches him for a long moment. The sense of alienation, he realises, is stark around Ichigo. It's him and the rest.
A translator, too, is a type of bridge between places. ]
That sounds worthwhile.
[ Perhaps in Soul Society, it wouldn't be, at least not now - after all, though certain norms are changing slowly but surely, outside influences remain rare. What little they take from the World of the Living are additions, assimilated into the ordinary, normal daily life that they lead. Nothing progresses from that. Nothing changes.
But Kyoto has certainly changed. ]
You bring change where you go, Ichigo. [ He looks at him over the rim of his cup, his gaze quiet. Calm. ] That requires a specific kind of temper, perhaps, just as teaching requires another.
no subject
Still, because evidently he doesn't care, when all comes down to it, he bows his head and lets his bangs fall into his eyes, staring down at his own hands. Wrapped around the cup convulsively.
You bring change where you go, Byakuya says. And then his name. Somehow, Ichigo thinks, just his name like that would've been enough.
He takes a moment to identify the feeling inside of him. That's pride, huh. If nothing else, it's fitting that Byakuya of all people is the one to awaken that in him. Ichigo keeps looking down, but he's smiling now. Small, but undeniable. His whole face changes. ]
Is that so? [ After another second, he finally glances first up and across the table at Byakuya, then quickly to the side, out the window. ] Yeah, guess you're right.
[ In that slip of time, he feels, something changing. ]