Spare Key
Title: Spare Key
Fandom: Bleach
Characters/Pairings: Byakuya/Hisana
A/N: So! I finally managed to do it, woooot. God, it's such a hard pairing to writeeeeee. xD It is your fault, Byakuya. Stoic-ness makes shippy fics difficult. >.> Anyyyway. This fic is for my Taisa, who wanted something awesome to read and I dunno if I made it to awesome, but I did my best. Happy birthday in advance, even though I'll write you something new for then. XD I have three months, after all. Enjoy iiiiit! <3333
When he was young, Byakuya Kuchiki had never really thought too hard about what it meant to love and be loved. He was given everything he could ever need or want and more-some, things that boys his age could only dream about in their wildest fantasies, and which he barely gave any thought to at all. “Everything”, however, had its price. He was expected to excel in every area of his studies; he was expected to know the protocols of etiquette and greeting visitors like he knew his esteemed family name. He was expected to be obedient, efficient, respectable. Becoming a shinigami was all but assumed, becoming a captain was expected and any less would be a disappointment.
As the only son of the Kuchiki clan, perfection in everything he did was required, and anything else was simply “not good enough.” The Kuchiki family came first, last, and every place in the middle. There was simply no room for Byakuya, as the young noble’s son had learned soon enough, and he had long since locked Byakuya in an iron cage and thrown away the key. Byakuya…was superfluous. The only thing that was important was Byakuya Kuchiki, and later, Captain Kuchiki. But the noble had never viewed this as a bad thing, or considered that perhaps there was a different way to raise a child than simply molding it to centuries-old expectations and draining away the individuality. His sole purpose was to bring honor to the family name.
And there were certainly the high points, such as when Master Ginrei (the elder man disapproved of being addressed as “Grandfather”-it was too familiar a term for one’s sensei, even if they were related by blood) patted him on the head and ruffled his hair when he mastered a new form, or when the elders gave their solemn nods and half-sincere compliments when he recited without stumbling, the main points of the great history of the Kuchiki clan. Love and duty had always been synonymous for him-their reassurances that he was doing the Kuchiki family proud and wasn’t he growing into a handsome young gentleman and all their daily platitudes that in the end, really said nothing, were all he thought he had needed.
There had been a few times, he thought, when his resolve was questioned, when games (frivolous, completely unproductive-useless-games) only called “tag” with a girl-a noble just like him-named Yoruichi filled him with much more joy and excitement than tea ceremonies and history lessons ever had, but he had always, he thought, remembered his place. When Byakuya strained against the bars of his cell, shook them until they rattled noisily-obscene-Kuchiki, as the warden, had always pushed him back, strengthened the bars so that they would no longer rattle, their faith no longer shaken by the desires of an individual. The Kuchiki family was more important than Byakuya.
Duty and love had remained one and the same for many decades thereafter, and perhaps he might have even someday taken a noble wife for himself and started the process all over again, forged a brand new prison for a new, impressionable mind that would learn, as he had, that the Kuchiki family came first.
And all this might have happened, if it hadn’t been for…her. For the first time in his life, duty and love had split. The Kuchiki in him knew the laws of his family, knew that marrying a Rukongai commoner was strictly forbidden, but for once in his life, he wanted Byakuya to be first. For once in his life, he wanted to do something that was for him, and not for the sake of his family name.
But when he’d done it, acquired the thing he wanted the most through his own efforts instead of inheriting it by agency of his family lineage, he found that…he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do next. “Love” had never been a well-defined concept for him, after all-in the Kuchiki family, marriage was about politics and influence and money. Positive feelings towards one’s spouse were purely secondary and a bonus at best. In his confusion, he had found himself drawing upon the childhood he’d never really had-the first several months of their relationship had had him expressing his love by things. If he could give her everything-if she could have all he had without the price…that was something, wasn’t it?
But it seemed that to one who had had nothing, everything was hardly a tangible idea. She was impressed by the fruits of his family’s wealth, sure, perhaps even awed by splendor that she couldn’t have even imagined, coming out of the squalor of Rukongai…but they wealth, the power, the material things were never what brought a smile to her face.
He could hand her a cherry blossom from one of the trees in his personal garden, and weeks later, he would find that same blossom-shriveled, discolored-still displayed prominently on the bedside table of the room they shared. Her eyes never sparkled quite as much when looking at the trees full of the vibrant blooms outside…as they did when she held the dying blossom that her Byakuya had given her.
The times his duties as a captain got him into dangerous situations that landed him in the fourth division, injured, she would always come visit him in the sickbay, sheepishly holding out one of the blossoms that she had picked herself, because she knew how Byakuya always preferred the ones that were bright and full of life to the faded ones that she held onto for longer than Byakuya had probably intended, and he would smile-a faint one, dulled by pain and lack of practice, but one that lit up her eyes and made her smile broadly in return-when she would timidly ask if she could sit beside him (she always asked, no matter how many times he told her he didn’t need to, that the answer was unconditionally yes) and sometimes she would (after asking permission, of course), run her slender fingers along the length of the bandages, her touch always light and never aggravating to the healing wounds.
It was in these simple, precious moments they shared together, Byakuya felt, that he could get a feel for what he had missed when he had thought of love and duty in the past-the thoughts as a Kuchiki that had only ever been disturbed ever-so-slightly by the joy of tag with Yoruichi.
He supposed, in the end, that Byakuya had been picking at the lock to his cage all along…but Hisana just happened to have found the spare key.
Fandom: Bleach
Characters/Pairings: Byakuya/Hisana
A/N: So! I finally managed to do it, woooot. God, it's such a hard pairing to writeeeeee. xD It is your fault, Byakuya. Stoic-ness makes shippy fics difficult. >.> Anyyyway. This fic is for my Taisa, who wanted something awesome to read and I dunno if I made it to awesome, but I did my best. Happy birthday in advance, even though I'll write you something new for then. XD I have three months, after all. Enjoy iiiiit! <3333
When he was young, Byakuya Kuchiki had never really thought too hard about what it meant to love and be loved. He was given everything he could ever need or want and more-some, things that boys his age could only dream about in their wildest fantasies, and which he barely gave any thought to at all. “Everything”, however, had its price. He was expected to excel in every area of his studies; he was expected to know the protocols of etiquette and greeting visitors like he knew his esteemed family name. He was expected to be obedient, efficient, respectable. Becoming a shinigami was all but assumed, becoming a captain was expected and any less would be a disappointment.
As the only son of the Kuchiki clan, perfection in everything he did was required, and anything else was simply “not good enough.” The Kuchiki family came first, last, and every place in the middle. There was simply no room for Byakuya, as the young noble’s son had learned soon enough, and he had long since locked Byakuya in an iron cage and thrown away the key. Byakuya…was superfluous. The only thing that was important was Byakuya Kuchiki, and later, Captain Kuchiki. But the noble had never viewed this as a bad thing, or considered that perhaps there was a different way to raise a child than simply molding it to centuries-old expectations and draining away the individuality. His sole purpose was to bring honor to the family name.
And there were certainly the high points, such as when Master Ginrei (the elder man disapproved of being addressed as “Grandfather”-it was too familiar a term for one’s sensei, even if they were related by blood) patted him on the head and ruffled his hair when he mastered a new form, or when the elders gave their solemn nods and half-sincere compliments when he recited without stumbling, the main points of the great history of the Kuchiki clan. Love and duty had always been synonymous for him-their reassurances that he was doing the Kuchiki family proud and wasn’t he growing into a handsome young gentleman and all their daily platitudes that in the end, really said nothing, were all he thought he had needed.
There had been a few times, he thought, when his resolve was questioned, when games (frivolous, completely unproductive-useless-games) only called “tag” with a girl-a noble just like him-named Yoruichi filled him with much more joy and excitement than tea ceremonies and history lessons ever had, but he had always, he thought, remembered his place. When Byakuya strained against the bars of his cell, shook them until they rattled noisily-obscene-Kuchiki, as the warden, had always pushed him back, strengthened the bars so that they would no longer rattle, their faith no longer shaken by the desires of an individual. The Kuchiki family was more important than Byakuya.
Duty and love had remained one and the same for many decades thereafter, and perhaps he might have even someday taken a noble wife for himself and started the process all over again, forged a brand new prison for a new, impressionable mind that would learn, as he had, that the Kuchiki family came first.
And all this might have happened, if it hadn’t been for…her. For the first time in his life, duty and love had split. The Kuchiki in him knew the laws of his family, knew that marrying a Rukongai commoner was strictly forbidden, but for once in his life, he wanted Byakuya to be first. For once in his life, he wanted to do something that was for him, and not for the sake of his family name.
But when he’d done it, acquired the thing he wanted the most through his own efforts instead of inheriting it by agency of his family lineage, he found that…he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do next. “Love” had never been a well-defined concept for him, after all-in the Kuchiki family, marriage was about politics and influence and money. Positive feelings towards one’s spouse were purely secondary and a bonus at best. In his confusion, he had found himself drawing upon the childhood he’d never really had-the first several months of their relationship had had him expressing his love by things. If he could give her everything-if she could have all he had without the price…that was something, wasn’t it?
But it seemed that to one who had had nothing, everything was hardly a tangible idea. She was impressed by the fruits of his family’s wealth, sure, perhaps even awed by splendor that she couldn’t have even imagined, coming out of the squalor of Rukongai…but they wealth, the power, the material things were never what brought a smile to her face.
He could hand her a cherry blossom from one of the trees in his personal garden, and weeks later, he would find that same blossom-shriveled, discolored-still displayed prominently on the bedside table of the room they shared. Her eyes never sparkled quite as much when looking at the trees full of the vibrant blooms outside…as they did when she held the dying blossom that her Byakuya had given her.
The times his duties as a captain got him into dangerous situations that landed him in the fourth division, injured, she would always come visit him in the sickbay, sheepishly holding out one of the blossoms that she had picked herself, because she knew how Byakuya always preferred the ones that were bright and full of life to the faded ones that she held onto for longer than Byakuya had probably intended, and he would smile-a faint one, dulled by pain and lack of practice, but one that lit up her eyes and made her smile broadly in return-when she would timidly ask if she could sit beside him (she always asked, no matter how many times he told her he didn’t need to, that the answer was unconditionally yes) and sometimes she would (after asking permission, of course), run her slender fingers along the length of the bandages, her touch always light and never aggravating to the healing wounds.
It was in these simple, precious moments they shared together, Byakuya felt, that he could get a feel for what he had missed when he had thought of love and duty in the past-the thoughts as a Kuchiki that had only ever been disturbed ever-so-slightly by the joy of tag with Yoruichi.
He supposed, in the end, that Byakuya had been picking at the lock to his cage all along…but Hisana just happened to have found the spare key.