The Prince and the Rebel -- Chapter XIII
EDIT: omg!!! I forgot to credit my fabulous beta, istahire!!!! Not only did she edit simply for grammar, but for content and character, as well. She turned this chapter around when it was going in the wrong direction and even offered me new and interesting ideas and motives. I OWE HER EVERYTHING!!!
Every day, Renji demanded that they pack up and leave. Every day, Byakuya refused.
He had little time to worry about the precariousness of their position, for the days passed swiftly, and they were filled with things to do. He cared for the horse, tended the fire, and tried his hand at sewing some of the patches in their clothing, now that he had a needle. Every morning, afternoon, and evening, he mounted the horse and conducted a survey of the area, Senbonzakura at his side, making a small circle half a mile wide in every direction. He located a small stream not far from camp, and routinely filled their water skins, and once even washed their second set of clothing. When Renji jokingly referred to him as “Mrs. Abarai” while he was busy stringing a line and hanging up the sodden material to dry, Byakuya said nothing. He continued to say nothing until nightfall arrived, and Renji was faced with the uncomfortable reality of a mute bedmate. Only then did it occur to him to apologize.
Renji continued to be fiercely immobile. Byakuya offered to let him help with the sewing, but he only ended up poking himself with the needle and fumbling all of his stitches. He then made several fruitless attempts to repair the ruined saddle. Later, he polished Zabimarou until the sword shone, but when he picked up Senbonzakura to do the same, he dropped her again almost immediately.
“She bit me!” he exclaimed, brown eyes widened with shock.
Byakuya looked up for a moment before returning to whatever it was he was doing at the time.
Eventually, he gave up trying to be useful and apparently resigned himself to lying back, arms crossed behind his head, and staring up at the pale, gray sky. Not surprisingly, he seemed to find that quiet contemplation did not suit him. A few minutes later, he sat up again and asked for a piece of wood. No-on second thought, several pieces. His patience now balanced on a precipice, Byakuya quietly stood up and did as he asked. It was with very briefly unfettered surprise when he sat back down by the fire and watched his companion pick up a large block of wood and flip open a small knife.
And that was how he discovered Renji could whittle.
Byakuya found that he enjoyed watching the other man work … the way his knife calmly swept across the surface of the wood, over and over and over again, little chips flaking off with each stroke. It always amazed him to see the shape of the object eventually emerge, a shock stealing over him the moment he could make it out. Renji was aware of his observation, but never said anything, though he would occasionally glance up with a smile on his face.
“How do you know what to make?” he finally allowed himself to ask.
Renji shrugged. “Just comes into my head, I guess. Maybe the wood tells me.”
Byakuya thought that was ridiculous, but said nothing.
Renji didn’t really do anything with his creations. Mostly, he just filled his pack with them, saying they’d make good toys for kids on market days. Byakuya didn’t know if he meant to sell them to the parents of such children, or if he intended to give them away, perhaps in some sort of compassionate display of empathy for the dire financial situation so many Outlanders were in. He did not ask.
One late afternoon, when he knelt to hand the other man his share of beans and dried meat-his attempts at fishing had proved futile, and their sources really were becoming dangerously low-Renji handed him something in return.
Taken a little off guard, he stared at the other man before gazing down at the object in his hand.
It was a miniature wooden horse, the legs so tiny as to be almost invisible when held up to the swiftly setting sun. The creature arched its head at a proud angle, mouth half-open, one hoof cocked in defiance. He stared at it for some time, cupping it carefully in his palm.
“I wanted to make you something,” Renji said, regaining his attention.
Byakuya did not look up, his eyes still focused on the tiny horse in his hand.
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” He heard the younger man shift a little, clear his throat a bit. “I guess it just … sorta reminded me of you.”
When Byakuya looked up at him again, he was blushing.
He curled his hand around the tiny horse, folding it beneath his fingers, miniature hooves pricking against his palm. “I see,” he said. Then, after hesitating a moment, he leaned over, lightly pressing his lips against his suddenly mute companion’s. “Thank you.”
When he straightened again, he was slightly surprised to see that Renji had now turned the approximate color of his hair.
He glowered, evidently noticing Byakuya’s reaction. “What?!”
When Byakuya did not respond, he made a sort of hmphing noise under his breath and looked away, arms crossed over his chest.
“Fuck,” he said after awhile, his voice a bit gruff, almost testy, “you haven’t even let me touch you since that first night. How the hell am I supposed to react?”
Byakuya blinked-but it was true. Since that night, his only physical relationship with Renji consisted of lying close beside the other man beneath the blankets of the bedroll. Mostly, he turned to face away from him, preferring to stare out into the blackness of the surrounding forest until his eyelids became too heavy to remain open. When he felt Renji’s arm curl around his waist, he did not protest. In fact, he found the other man’s solid warmth behind him comforting, even pleasant. But he didn’t think of kissing him, because to do so aroused feelings that he was as yet still unprepared to reconcile with.
“Do you regret it?”
He looked up, almost startled-not so much by the words themselves, but by the strange tone in Renji’s voice. It took him a moment to realize that the other man was angry.
Almost absently, he squeezed the fingers of his right hand together, the little wooden horse now warm against his palm.
“No,” he finally said.
He felt a hand reach up, gently touching the side of his face before falling back again, its owner sighing. “Then why are you suddenly treating me like garbage?”
“I’m not treating you like garbage,” he said, the words swift and sharp, stinging the air. He tried to breathe in, but could not seem to inhale deep enough.
“Like hell.” Again, that hand, brushing against his face, but he ignored it. “I put my arm around you at night, and you go all stiff. Like just the thought of me touching you makes you sick to your stomach or something.”
Byakuya tried to breathe again, his vision becoming blurry. “I don’t treat you like garbage,” he whispered.
A pause, then … “Byakuya…?”
He blinked, his fist tightening around the tiny figurine in his hand, even as his chest began to feel as if it were trying to squeeze all the breath from his lungs. “Renji,” he said, his eyes still staring resolutely out into the increasing darkness. “I refuse to allow you to speak of yourself in such despicable terms. You will acknowledge your worth in my presence or face my displeasure.”
He blinked again, steadfastly ignoring the presence of Renji’s hand, now cupping his face, fingers slipping beneath his hair, tickling his ear.
“Byakuya … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“I asked you to refute them!” he cried, cutting the other man off. He rose to his feet, then, still refusing to meet the other man’s eyes, and turned away from him, bypassing the campfire and heading deeper into the forest.
“Where’re you going?” Renji called after him, seeming concern lacing his voice.
Byakuya did not answer. He told himself he was going to gather wood for the fire, the way he did every night. But that explanation could not account for his increasingly erratic path as he stumbled blindly through the thick foliage, roots tripping up his boots and branches tugging at the hood of his cloak, whipping him in the face. Finally, after an eternity, he paused to lean against a tree, resting against the thick, hard bark, the cold wind freezing against his face.
After a moment, he sank to his knees, rocks digging through the thin material of his pants, his right fist unconsciously clutched to his chest, squeezing the tiny creature within it.
What am I doing? Another wind gust whipped past him, rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees and causing a chill to wrack through his body. And with it, a successive insidious thought, tickling the edges of his brain:
What have I become?
No longer the prince. No longer the heir of the noble Kuchiki family, ruler of the Four Great Families these 400 long years. He was everything his family despised-his compassion for those beneath him in stature interpreted as weak mindedness, his marriage to Rukia’s sister ten years ago an insult to both their peoples. And now … now…
He clutched his fist harder to his chest. Did he truly believe that which he had once insinuated to Renji during their numerous conversations? That there were two different levels of humanity … and that those two levels should not mix. Again, he saw the sly humor in the bowman’s eyes when he admitted that his sister could marry whomever she chose. Does it bother you?
Does it bother you?
“Yes,” he said into the darkness, shame and self-loathing crawling up his spine. It bothered him that Rukia could love so freely. It bothered him that he could not. It bothered him-it crushed him-it infuriated him-that his heart did not care for such restrictions, did not care for things like rank and consequence and pride.
Was this his punishment for marrying Hisana, all those years ago?
Byakuya ...
He lifted his head, eyes widening in shock, as Senbonzakura immediately began to fill his mind with an image-an image of Renji, throwing the blankets back, thrusting Zabimarou into the earth, using him as leverage to rise, struggling to his feet…
Icy terror slid through him as he immediately rose up, turning quickly to face the direction he had come. How long had he been out here? How far had he strayed from camp? But in the thick darkness of the forest, even the distant light from the campfire was hidden from view, and he realized, panic abruptly seizing him, that he was…
Byakuya ... !!
Her voice rang in his head like a piercing siren’s call, seizing his brain and forcing his eyes to focus ahead, a section of the forest seeming to throb in response. He stumbled forward, eventually breaking into a run, following the cry of his sword, and the image of Renji tentatively putting weight on his wounded leg, then screaming in pain-
“No!” he cried, and then he was there, the wind gusts having their way with the flickering fire, and Renji … Renji, staggering upright, braced against Zabimarou, red hair tumbling around his shoulders…
“Byakuya!” he said, looking up, his eyes wide with concern, though it was quickly replaced with profound relief … but his face was etched with pain, and he shuddered, groaning under his breath.
“Fool!” Byakuya chastised, grating the word out as he strode towards the other man. Perhaps he seized him a little too abruptly, for Renji staggered a bit beneath his hands, shoulders bunching and knees buckling. “Are you trying to kill yourself? If the wound were to open…” He left the horrific thought hanging-either for effect or because he choose not to fathom it himself-and, carefully looping one of Renji’s arms around his own shoulders, helped him hobble back until he could be lowered down to the bedroll.
“God!” Renji sat down heavily, panting, arms splayed out, bracing him upright, though he looked exhausted enough to want to lie down fully. His face was blotchy, even despite the cold, long red strands of hair sticking to his skin. Pain seemed to override any other emotion, but as that gradually faded, a strange tightness seemed to pass over his features, his mouth turning down at the corners.
Byakuya knelt down beside him, fisted hands resting on his knees.
“That was a very stupid thing to do,” he said after a moment-once he was able to see past the seething fear disguising itself as anger enough to put thoughts into words. “Would you have all my efforts to save you amount to nothing? Attempting to walk on your own, without any means of support, merely to satisfy a whim! Do realize you could have-
“For fuck’s sake,” Renji suddenly snapped, “would you just SHUT UP for once?!”
Byakuya was so shocked by the other man’s sudden outburst that it had exactly the desired effect of rendering him utterly speechless.
Renji growled under his breath, the sound seeming to roll out from under his tongue. “God damn it! It’s like … I spend all this fucking time trying to get you to talk, and now you won’t fucking shut up!!”
Byakuya felt a coldness begin to seep over him, his jaw hardening, ever so slightly. “I apologize,” he said after a moment, his voice stiffened and utterly devoid of emotion, “if my desire to communicate-
“I’M NOT FINISHED YET!”
This time he actually flinched-perhaps because Renji in a rage was, unsurprisingly, a force to be reckoned with. His eyes continued to burn, resulting in a prickling sensation of heat against Byakuya’s cheeks, though he was certain he gave little to no evidence of his own discomfort.
Renji paused to curse then, muttering a string of obscenities so crude that Byakuya unwittingly turned his head, averting his eyes, mouth thinning in disapproval.
“You think this isn’t hard for me, too?”
He lifted his gaze, meeting the younger man’s eyes once again.
“You think just because we were born in different places I don’t feel the same things you feel? Think the same shit you think? You think it doesn’t eat me up inside, that I betrayed everything I thought I fucking believed in when I took those ropes off your wrists?!”
Byakuya said nothing.
“You think you’re the only one struggling with this, don’t you? Poor dumbfuck, lame-ass, commoner piece of crap, you say to yourself. He can’t possibly comprehend the whole pot of shit he’s trying to brew up for the both of us.” He leaned in, his nostrils flaring slightly. Byakuya could see the flecks of amber in his eyes, making them seem almost red in the haze of the firelight. “Well that’s where you’re WRONG.”
Byakuya took a second to compose himself, his right fist tightening around the small figurine now imbedded in his palm there. He consciously relaxed his facial features, swallowing a few times to be certain his voice would sound clear and collected.
“I understand,” he said. His teeth were gritting together, despite his best efforts. “But Renji … this is where we must stop and question ourselves. Are our recent actions … worth the consequences they inevitably create?” He paused to take a deep breath, his left hand unconsciously bunching against the material of his pants. “Am I worth risking your position and your reputation-forfeiting your life-merely too-
“Yes, you are!” Renji snapped, cutting him off. “YES YOU ARE!!”
And suddenly, Byakuya understood.
Yes, I am, he thought, the very idea filling him with shock, even robbing him momentarily of breath. He looked into Renji’s fierce brown eyes, and his own widened, ever so slightly.
Yes, you are.
“Do you think I LIKE being in love with a pompous asshole like you?” Renji asked, but all of the fire seemed to have drained from his voice. His shoulders were slumping, a genuinely defeated expression on his face. “Hell…”
He reached up to rudely brush back some of the hair hanging over his eyes, but then seemed to change his mind, his hand falling limply back down.
The gesture made Byakuya’s heart begin to ache.
“No more than I enjoy being in love with a filthy rebel like you,” he said quietly.
Renji’s shoulders tensed noticeably-but when he looked up again, his eyes held the first fate glimpse of hope.
Then he smiled, the expression almost beatific. But after a moment, Byakuya had to avert his gaze, as if it were still too much for him to accept. He felt almost…
“You’re blushing again,” came that warm, husky voice … the same one that had invaded his dreams of late, leaving him hot and breathless in the morning, forcing him to slip out from under the blankets before Renji could waken.
He felt a hand reach up, fingers caressing the side of his face, bringing a new flush of warmth to his cheeks. Tentatively, he reached up and laid his own hand on top of the other man’s, his fingers curling around the slightly larger palm.
Renji sighed. “Fucking leg,” he muttered, shifting unconsciously, their hands dropping, though not unclasping. “We could totally be gettin’ it on right now.”
Byakuya could not quite refrain from rolling his eyes.
“Try to think of it as something to look forward,” he said dryly. He rose up then, not quite standing, but only shifting so that he could settle himself behind the other man, wrapping his arms around Renji’s waist so Renji could lean back against him.
He felt more than saw the cheeky grin that flashed across the younger man’s face. “My reward for being good?”
“I would hesitate to call it as such. You may have to wait an awfully long time then.”
Renji chuckled, the sound vibrating both their chests. Just for a moment, Byakuya allowed himself to rest his face in wild red hair, breathing in before sighing very deeply.
“Do you want to know why I haven’t let you touch me?” he asked after a moment.
“Mm. Why’s that?” The absent amusement in the other’s voice let him know that Renji could tell he wasn’t being entirely serious.
“You haven’t bathed in four days.” He shifted a little, ever so slightly nuzzling his nose through red hair. “You smell.”
Renji’s laughter almost pushed him back this time, his arms having to tighten around the other man’s waist. He rested his chin on one shoulder after a moment, looking down at his right hand as he uncurled his fist, revealing the little wooden horse.
He watched Renji’s hand cup his own, as if offering support for the tiny figurine. “Do you really like it?”
He smiled, ever so faintly.
“Yes,” he said. He stroked the tiny muzzle with his thumb before curling his fingers back over the little horse. “I love it.”
They were silent for awhile then, unmoving, Renji still resting in his arms, despite the fact that the wind was indeed picking up and he ought to be going around weighting things down. When both their stomachs reminded them that they hadn’t eaten, he finally sighed and eased away from his companion, rising to his feet and heading over to the fire, to remove his mostly charred dinner.
“Renji,” he said after they’d sat eating in companionable silence after awhile, “Do you think you could make yourself a pair of crutches?”
The younger man paused in his eating, chewing for a second then swallowing before pursing his lips in thought. Then he shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Long as I have the right size piece of wood. Right type, too.” He glanced up at the sky. “Better not rain again.”
Byakuya could heartily agree with that sentiment.
“Or snow,” Renji added grimly.
As the evening lingered on, they eventually assumed their usual positions under the blankets of the bedroll: Byakuya resting on his side, gazing out into the darkness-Renji behind him, one arm looped loosely around his waist. Except this time, he welcomed the feel of the other man gently nuzzling his hair, the way his arm around him tightened a little, Renji’s broad chest pressed snugly against his back. After a moment, he told him of his plan to get the younger man walking again, first with the aid of crutches. Their first expedition, of course, would be the lake, so Renji could finally bathe. When Renji made a joke about finally getting to see him naked, he could only purse his lips in faint disapproval, though he made no move to renew any kind of distance between them. A few minutes later, they were both soundly asleep, the blankets pulled up almost to their ears in an effort to keep out the biting cold.
IIIIIIIIIIIII
It was several more days later, during one of his daily treks around the camp, that Byakuya finally had grave cause for concern about the vulnerability of their situation. The mare paused, her head swiveling in one direction, chestnut ears pricking forward.
The sound was distant, but unmistakable-the sound of someone moving quietly through the forest, someone who obviously did not wish to be detected. And they were headed in the direction of the camp.
Wordlessly, Byakuya dismounted, quietly tethering the mare to a nearby sapling. He silently drew Senbonzakura and began to advance.
To be continued ...
Every day, Renji demanded that they pack up and leave. Every day, Byakuya refused.
He had little time to worry about the precariousness of their position, for the days passed swiftly, and they were filled with things to do. He cared for the horse, tended the fire, and tried his hand at sewing some of the patches in their clothing, now that he had a needle. Every morning, afternoon, and evening, he mounted the horse and conducted a survey of the area, Senbonzakura at his side, making a small circle half a mile wide in every direction. He located a small stream not far from camp, and routinely filled their water skins, and once even washed their second set of clothing. When Renji jokingly referred to him as “Mrs. Abarai” while he was busy stringing a line and hanging up the sodden material to dry, Byakuya said nothing. He continued to say nothing until nightfall arrived, and Renji was faced with the uncomfortable reality of a mute bedmate. Only then did it occur to him to apologize.
Renji continued to be fiercely immobile. Byakuya offered to let him help with the sewing, but he only ended up poking himself with the needle and fumbling all of his stitches. He then made several fruitless attempts to repair the ruined saddle. Later, he polished Zabimarou until the sword shone, but when he picked up Senbonzakura to do the same, he dropped her again almost immediately.
“She bit me!” he exclaimed, brown eyes widened with shock.
Byakuya looked up for a moment before returning to whatever it was he was doing at the time.
Eventually, he gave up trying to be useful and apparently resigned himself to lying back, arms crossed behind his head, and staring up at the pale, gray sky. Not surprisingly, he seemed to find that quiet contemplation did not suit him. A few minutes later, he sat up again and asked for a piece of wood. No-on second thought, several pieces. His patience now balanced on a precipice, Byakuya quietly stood up and did as he asked. It was with very briefly unfettered surprise when he sat back down by the fire and watched his companion pick up a large block of wood and flip open a small knife.
And that was how he discovered Renji could whittle.
Byakuya found that he enjoyed watching the other man work … the way his knife calmly swept across the surface of the wood, over and over and over again, little chips flaking off with each stroke. It always amazed him to see the shape of the object eventually emerge, a shock stealing over him the moment he could make it out. Renji was aware of his observation, but never said anything, though he would occasionally glance up with a smile on his face.
“How do you know what to make?” he finally allowed himself to ask.
Renji shrugged. “Just comes into my head, I guess. Maybe the wood tells me.”
Byakuya thought that was ridiculous, but said nothing.
Renji didn’t really do anything with his creations. Mostly, he just filled his pack with them, saying they’d make good toys for kids on market days. Byakuya didn’t know if he meant to sell them to the parents of such children, or if he intended to give them away, perhaps in some sort of compassionate display of empathy for the dire financial situation so many Outlanders were in. He did not ask.
One late afternoon, when he knelt to hand the other man his share of beans and dried meat-his attempts at fishing had proved futile, and their sources really were becoming dangerously low-Renji handed him something in return.
Taken a little off guard, he stared at the other man before gazing down at the object in his hand.
It was a miniature wooden horse, the legs so tiny as to be almost invisible when held up to the swiftly setting sun. The creature arched its head at a proud angle, mouth half-open, one hoof cocked in defiance. He stared at it for some time, cupping it carefully in his palm.
“I wanted to make you something,” Renji said, regaining his attention.
Byakuya did not look up, his eyes still focused on the tiny horse in his hand.
“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” He heard the younger man shift a little, clear his throat a bit. “I guess it just … sorta reminded me of you.”
When Byakuya looked up at him again, he was blushing.
He curled his hand around the tiny horse, folding it beneath his fingers, miniature hooves pricking against his palm. “I see,” he said. Then, after hesitating a moment, he leaned over, lightly pressing his lips against his suddenly mute companion’s. “Thank you.”
When he straightened again, he was slightly surprised to see that Renji had now turned the approximate color of his hair.
He glowered, evidently noticing Byakuya’s reaction. “What?!”
When Byakuya did not respond, he made a sort of hmphing noise under his breath and looked away, arms crossed over his chest.
“Fuck,” he said after awhile, his voice a bit gruff, almost testy, “you haven’t even let me touch you since that first night. How the hell am I supposed to react?”
Byakuya blinked-but it was true. Since that night, his only physical relationship with Renji consisted of lying close beside the other man beneath the blankets of the bedroll. Mostly, he turned to face away from him, preferring to stare out into the blackness of the surrounding forest until his eyelids became too heavy to remain open. When he felt Renji’s arm curl around his waist, he did not protest. In fact, he found the other man’s solid warmth behind him comforting, even pleasant. But he didn’t think of kissing him, because to do so aroused feelings that he was as yet still unprepared to reconcile with.
“Do you regret it?”
He looked up, almost startled-not so much by the words themselves, but by the strange tone in Renji’s voice. It took him a moment to realize that the other man was angry.
Almost absently, he squeezed the fingers of his right hand together, the little wooden horse now warm against his palm.
“No,” he finally said.
He felt a hand reach up, gently touching the side of his face before falling back again, its owner sighing. “Then why are you suddenly treating me like garbage?”
“I’m not treating you like garbage,” he said, the words swift and sharp, stinging the air. He tried to breathe in, but could not seem to inhale deep enough.
“Like hell.” Again, that hand, brushing against his face, but he ignored it. “I put my arm around you at night, and you go all stiff. Like just the thought of me touching you makes you sick to your stomach or something.”
Byakuya tried to breathe again, his vision becoming blurry. “I don’t treat you like garbage,” he whispered.
A pause, then … “Byakuya…?”
He blinked, his fist tightening around the tiny figurine in his hand, even as his chest began to feel as if it were trying to squeeze all the breath from his lungs. “Renji,” he said, his eyes still staring resolutely out into the increasing darkness. “I refuse to allow you to speak of yourself in such despicable terms. You will acknowledge your worth in my presence or face my displeasure.”
He blinked again, steadfastly ignoring the presence of Renji’s hand, now cupping his face, fingers slipping beneath his hair, tickling his ear.
“Byakuya … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“I asked you to refute them!” he cried, cutting the other man off. He rose to his feet, then, still refusing to meet the other man’s eyes, and turned away from him, bypassing the campfire and heading deeper into the forest.
“Where’re you going?” Renji called after him, seeming concern lacing his voice.
Byakuya did not answer. He told himself he was going to gather wood for the fire, the way he did every night. But that explanation could not account for his increasingly erratic path as he stumbled blindly through the thick foliage, roots tripping up his boots and branches tugging at the hood of his cloak, whipping him in the face. Finally, after an eternity, he paused to lean against a tree, resting against the thick, hard bark, the cold wind freezing against his face.
After a moment, he sank to his knees, rocks digging through the thin material of his pants, his right fist unconsciously clutched to his chest, squeezing the tiny creature within it.
What am I doing? Another wind gust whipped past him, rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees and causing a chill to wrack through his body. And with it, a successive insidious thought, tickling the edges of his brain:
What have I become?
No longer the prince. No longer the heir of the noble Kuchiki family, ruler of the Four Great Families these 400 long years. He was everything his family despised-his compassion for those beneath him in stature interpreted as weak mindedness, his marriage to Rukia’s sister ten years ago an insult to both their peoples. And now … now…
He clutched his fist harder to his chest. Did he truly believe that which he had once insinuated to Renji during their numerous conversations? That there were two different levels of humanity … and that those two levels should not mix. Again, he saw the sly humor in the bowman’s eyes when he admitted that his sister could marry whomever she chose. Does it bother you?
Does it bother you?
“Yes,” he said into the darkness, shame and self-loathing crawling up his spine. It bothered him that Rukia could love so freely. It bothered him that he could not. It bothered him-it crushed him-it infuriated him-that his heart did not care for such restrictions, did not care for things like rank and consequence and pride.
Was this his punishment for marrying Hisana, all those years ago?
Byakuya ...
He lifted his head, eyes widening in shock, as Senbonzakura immediately began to fill his mind with an image-an image of Renji, throwing the blankets back, thrusting Zabimarou into the earth, using him as leverage to rise, struggling to his feet…
Icy terror slid through him as he immediately rose up, turning quickly to face the direction he had come. How long had he been out here? How far had he strayed from camp? But in the thick darkness of the forest, even the distant light from the campfire was hidden from view, and he realized, panic abruptly seizing him, that he was…
Byakuya ... !!
Her voice rang in his head like a piercing siren’s call, seizing his brain and forcing his eyes to focus ahead, a section of the forest seeming to throb in response. He stumbled forward, eventually breaking into a run, following the cry of his sword, and the image of Renji tentatively putting weight on his wounded leg, then screaming in pain-
“No!” he cried, and then he was there, the wind gusts having their way with the flickering fire, and Renji … Renji, staggering upright, braced against Zabimarou, red hair tumbling around his shoulders…
“Byakuya!” he said, looking up, his eyes wide with concern, though it was quickly replaced with profound relief … but his face was etched with pain, and he shuddered, groaning under his breath.
“Fool!” Byakuya chastised, grating the word out as he strode towards the other man. Perhaps he seized him a little too abruptly, for Renji staggered a bit beneath his hands, shoulders bunching and knees buckling. “Are you trying to kill yourself? If the wound were to open…” He left the horrific thought hanging-either for effect or because he choose not to fathom it himself-and, carefully looping one of Renji’s arms around his own shoulders, helped him hobble back until he could be lowered down to the bedroll.
“God!” Renji sat down heavily, panting, arms splayed out, bracing him upright, though he looked exhausted enough to want to lie down fully. His face was blotchy, even despite the cold, long red strands of hair sticking to his skin. Pain seemed to override any other emotion, but as that gradually faded, a strange tightness seemed to pass over his features, his mouth turning down at the corners.
Byakuya knelt down beside him, fisted hands resting on his knees.
“That was a very stupid thing to do,” he said after a moment-once he was able to see past the seething fear disguising itself as anger enough to put thoughts into words. “Would you have all my efforts to save you amount to nothing? Attempting to walk on your own, without any means of support, merely to satisfy a whim! Do realize you could have-
“For fuck’s sake,” Renji suddenly snapped, “would you just SHUT UP for once?!”
Byakuya was so shocked by the other man’s sudden outburst that it had exactly the desired effect of rendering him utterly speechless.
Renji growled under his breath, the sound seeming to roll out from under his tongue. “God damn it! It’s like … I spend all this fucking time trying to get you to talk, and now you won’t fucking shut up!!”
Byakuya felt a coldness begin to seep over him, his jaw hardening, ever so slightly. “I apologize,” he said after a moment, his voice stiffened and utterly devoid of emotion, “if my desire to communicate-
“I’M NOT FINISHED YET!”
This time he actually flinched-perhaps because Renji in a rage was, unsurprisingly, a force to be reckoned with. His eyes continued to burn, resulting in a prickling sensation of heat against Byakuya’s cheeks, though he was certain he gave little to no evidence of his own discomfort.
Renji paused to curse then, muttering a string of obscenities so crude that Byakuya unwittingly turned his head, averting his eyes, mouth thinning in disapproval.
“You think this isn’t hard for me, too?”
He lifted his gaze, meeting the younger man’s eyes once again.
“You think just because we were born in different places I don’t feel the same things you feel? Think the same shit you think? You think it doesn’t eat me up inside, that I betrayed everything I thought I fucking believed in when I took those ropes off your wrists?!”
Byakuya said nothing.
“You think you’re the only one struggling with this, don’t you? Poor dumbfuck, lame-ass, commoner piece of crap, you say to yourself. He can’t possibly comprehend the whole pot of shit he’s trying to brew up for the both of us.” He leaned in, his nostrils flaring slightly. Byakuya could see the flecks of amber in his eyes, making them seem almost red in the haze of the firelight. “Well that’s where you’re WRONG.”
Byakuya took a second to compose himself, his right fist tightening around the small figurine now imbedded in his palm there. He consciously relaxed his facial features, swallowing a few times to be certain his voice would sound clear and collected.
“I understand,” he said. His teeth were gritting together, despite his best efforts. “But Renji … this is where we must stop and question ourselves. Are our recent actions … worth the consequences they inevitably create?” He paused to take a deep breath, his left hand unconsciously bunching against the material of his pants. “Am I worth risking your position and your reputation-forfeiting your life-merely too-
“Yes, you are!” Renji snapped, cutting him off. “YES YOU ARE!!”
And suddenly, Byakuya understood.
Yes, I am, he thought, the very idea filling him with shock, even robbing him momentarily of breath. He looked into Renji’s fierce brown eyes, and his own widened, ever so slightly.
Yes, you are.
“Do you think I LIKE being in love with a pompous asshole like you?” Renji asked, but all of the fire seemed to have drained from his voice. His shoulders were slumping, a genuinely defeated expression on his face. “Hell…”
He reached up to rudely brush back some of the hair hanging over his eyes, but then seemed to change his mind, his hand falling limply back down.
The gesture made Byakuya’s heart begin to ache.
“No more than I enjoy being in love with a filthy rebel like you,” he said quietly.
Renji’s shoulders tensed noticeably-but when he looked up again, his eyes held the first fate glimpse of hope.
Then he smiled, the expression almost beatific. But after a moment, Byakuya had to avert his gaze, as if it were still too much for him to accept. He felt almost…
“You’re blushing again,” came that warm, husky voice … the same one that had invaded his dreams of late, leaving him hot and breathless in the morning, forcing him to slip out from under the blankets before Renji could waken.
He felt a hand reach up, fingers caressing the side of his face, bringing a new flush of warmth to his cheeks. Tentatively, he reached up and laid his own hand on top of the other man’s, his fingers curling around the slightly larger palm.
Renji sighed. “Fucking leg,” he muttered, shifting unconsciously, their hands dropping, though not unclasping. “We could totally be gettin’ it on right now.”
Byakuya could not quite refrain from rolling his eyes.
“Try to think of it as something to look forward,” he said dryly. He rose up then, not quite standing, but only shifting so that he could settle himself behind the other man, wrapping his arms around Renji’s waist so Renji could lean back against him.
He felt more than saw the cheeky grin that flashed across the younger man’s face. “My reward for being good?”
“I would hesitate to call it as such. You may have to wait an awfully long time then.”
Renji chuckled, the sound vibrating both their chests. Just for a moment, Byakuya allowed himself to rest his face in wild red hair, breathing in before sighing very deeply.
“Do you want to know why I haven’t let you touch me?” he asked after a moment.
“Mm. Why’s that?” The absent amusement in the other’s voice let him know that Renji could tell he wasn’t being entirely serious.
“You haven’t bathed in four days.” He shifted a little, ever so slightly nuzzling his nose through red hair. “You smell.”
Renji’s laughter almost pushed him back this time, his arms having to tighten around the other man’s waist. He rested his chin on one shoulder after a moment, looking down at his right hand as he uncurled his fist, revealing the little wooden horse.
He watched Renji’s hand cup his own, as if offering support for the tiny figurine. “Do you really like it?”
He smiled, ever so faintly.
“Yes,” he said. He stroked the tiny muzzle with his thumb before curling his fingers back over the little horse. “I love it.”
They were silent for awhile then, unmoving, Renji still resting in his arms, despite the fact that the wind was indeed picking up and he ought to be going around weighting things down. When both their stomachs reminded them that they hadn’t eaten, he finally sighed and eased away from his companion, rising to his feet and heading over to the fire, to remove his mostly charred dinner.
“Renji,” he said after they’d sat eating in companionable silence after awhile, “Do you think you could make yourself a pair of crutches?”
The younger man paused in his eating, chewing for a second then swallowing before pursing his lips in thought. Then he shrugged. “Don’t see why not. Long as I have the right size piece of wood. Right type, too.” He glanced up at the sky. “Better not rain again.”
Byakuya could heartily agree with that sentiment.
“Or snow,” Renji added grimly.
As the evening lingered on, they eventually assumed their usual positions under the blankets of the bedroll: Byakuya resting on his side, gazing out into the darkness-Renji behind him, one arm looped loosely around his waist. Except this time, he welcomed the feel of the other man gently nuzzling his hair, the way his arm around him tightened a little, Renji’s broad chest pressed snugly against his back. After a moment, he told him of his plan to get the younger man walking again, first with the aid of crutches. Their first expedition, of course, would be the lake, so Renji could finally bathe. When Renji made a joke about finally getting to see him naked, he could only purse his lips in faint disapproval, though he made no move to renew any kind of distance between them. A few minutes later, they were both soundly asleep, the blankets pulled up almost to their ears in an effort to keep out the biting cold.
IIIIIIIIIIIII
It was several more days later, during one of his daily treks around the camp, that Byakuya finally had grave cause for concern about the vulnerability of their situation. The mare paused, her head swiveling in one direction, chestnut ears pricking forward.
The sound was distant, but unmistakable-the sound of someone moving quietly through the forest, someone who obviously did not wish to be detected. And they were headed in the direction of the camp.
Wordlessly, Byakuya dismounted, quietly tethering the mare to a nearby sapling. He silently drew Senbonzakura and began to advance.
To be continued ...