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.
Slightly twisted ficlet about the aftermath of the Soul Society arc. Spoilers through manga 181.
“Nii-sama?” she asked, a bit cautiously just in case this was a symptom of madness, or some strange family ritual she’d never heard of.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
Renji contemplates how he acts with his captain. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Byakuya/Renji, any form of power play.
Renji almost never gave his captain a full salute.
Other people almost never noticed.
Post Soul Society arc, Rukia has to deal with lingering injuries and Byakuya finds old habits of care returning.
It had been coming for days; she’d felt it like a presence standing behind her shoulder, stepping closer and closer again until it merged with her backbone and unstrung her. She didn’t know why it was now, why this hadn’t happened when she was locked away or about to die or at some other time that made sense. She just knew she couldn’t hold it back any more, and a few hot tears spilled over as her breath rasped harshly in her lungs.
Future indefinite. Byakuya and Renji; the heat and cool between them. Written for the Porn Battle prompt: Byakuya/Renji, cold and hot.
"So impatient, Renji," Byakuya murmured.
In bed, at least, he could be pretty sure that was teasing and not reprimand.
Byakuya takes Ichigo to bed properly for the first time, showing him how these things go.
It had taken Byakuya a while to realize that when Ichigo called him "Byakuya-san" that was respect—to listen to his tone instead of his words, to his body language instead of his grammar. Ichigo kept his respect in different places than most people.
Under the stress of dealing with Muramasa, Senbonzakura could do with some reassurance. So could Byakuya. Written for the Prompt Battle prompt: Byakuya/Senbonzakura, behind closed doors.
As they returned to Muramasa’s suspiciously ill-concealed hiding hole, Byakuya turned away from the mindless chatter of the swords. He could only stand to listen to their foolishness for so long, and today had been more than enough.