Knowing the history of Byakuya’s promises, Rukia makes one of her own, and hopes Renji can accept it.
A subtle softening passed over her brother’s face. Nothing so overt as a smile, but Rukia brightened to see it. I’ll make our house proud, she assured him silently. I will. I promise.
Renji gets an offer and wibbles hesitates over it; Byakuya pounds talks some sense into him.
Renji liked to think that he stayed alert for anything, even when he was at home.
Anything, however, didn’t usually include a tiny brat of a fellow vice-captain landing on his shoulders and pounding him on the head with a small but very hard fist.
Rukia campaigns against her brother’s stoicism.
Rukia drew some odd looks, marching through the main offices of Sixth Division with a tray of tea.
Renji deals with his new job, and the echos of his old one.
Renji collapsed into his desk chair with a groan. “Who knew I’d ever appreciate paperwork?” he muttered, slumping over. Paperwork, at least, didn’t explode or kill anyone or change into weird, unpredictable hybrids.
Byakuya and Rukia speak of regrets and possibilities.
“Tell me about Hisana.”
Renji catches a glimpse of Rukia dealing with her own new position.
It was good to know she hadn’t lost any of the edge off her vocabulary after all those years in a noble house.
Byakyua watches Renji and Rukia, and tries to plan a future.
For a long time, Renji had walked at his heels, as if tame, always watching but never challenging.
He was no longer tame, and thus became worthy of consideration.
Ukitake and Kyouraku discuss the general success of their plans.
Juushirou took a distracted sip of sake, and paused as the taste on his tongue reminded him that he’d been going to stop. He gave his friend a rueful glance.
Renji broods on his relationship to the Kuchiki family.
Life would be so much easier if he could just hate the bastard.
Byakuya causes there to be romance, like it or not.
Rukia sank back, arrested by the phrase marry out of the house. She remembered the conversation she and her brother had had in the garden one evening, about regrets and stubbornness, and spouses and honor. Her heart couldn’t decide whether to stop beating or to race.
Rukia and Renji, and, in fact, most of Soul Society, prepare; plotting continues.
He looked up at her with entreaty. “Are you sure I can’t just stay the third morning?”
Very memorable ceremonies.
But however much of a pain parts of it had been, it all came down to this. To he and Rukia, having escaped from the layers of their formal robes and elaborate hair ornaments, down to a yukata apiece, in a dim bedroom that belonged to them.
Rukia talks to her brother about career plans.
Kuchiki was her House, just as Rukongai was her past. And neither a survivor of Inuzuri nor a daughter of Kuchiki needed anyone holding open doors for her. She’d open her own damn door.
Soi is worn out from work and Yoruichi comes to visit.
“Your hair will snarl if you leave it like that,” Yoruichi-sama told her, plucking the half-unraveled braid out of Soi’s fingers. Soi blushed a little, but sat meekly while Yoruichi-sama undid her hair with swift, warm hands. “What’s going on that’s got you so worn out?”
