June Flashfic-Dawn to Dusk
Title: Dawn to Dusk
Genre: Angst, slight bit of smut and romance
Character/Pairing: Byakuya/Urahara, Yoruichi
Word Count: 2,281
Rating: M
Summary: Byakuya hates him, doesn't he?
Notes: Written for
unhako_neko . Sorry that I couldn't come up with anything humorous for you! And I've not written in a long time, so concrit is really welcome!
DAWN TO DUSK
Birds cry, a sliver of orange-gold creases the horizon, the darkness seems crestfallen as the sky turns misty pink. It tells of the coming of dawn.
The dawn is the love child of the endless day and seamless night. A time to gaze at the many-hued sky, a time for prayer and a time for reflection.
For Byakuya, it is the time to fight, to expiate for the fact that he is a shinigami of royal blood, that he is a Kuchiki. It is time to train with her and him.
*****
Byakuya has always hated Yoruichi. The crass, condescending, hell-cat Yoruichi.
She treats him like the brown dirt that worships her feet (even though he does not), like an innocent, credulous pup taking it’s first breath. She deems him unworthy. She deems him unequal to her.
But today, Byakuya decides to prove her wrong. He will never vindicate her for the way she makes him feel, the way she sets his insides boiling, and then freezes him by making him beg for her clemency.
But he hates him even more.
*****
“Look who the winds of fortune brought today…little Byakuya. My, the Gods are not kind to me.”, Yoruichi mocks as Byakuya arrives in the large courtyard, sword in hand, poised and eager to fight.
“I will answer you with my sword.” he hisses, every fragment of his composure threatening to break into a million shards and pierce the woman before him.
She lunges at him, moving agilely, her sword gracefully arcing through the air. Thus begins his training.
Swords flash, unfathomable amounts of spiritual energy fill the surroundings and Byakuya falls to the ground. “Say ‘Sorry, Yoruichi-sama, I will never think of you as my equal again.’” she says heartlessly. Thus his training ends.
“Oh good, Byakuya-chan, she managed to oust you in one minute this time! What a great improvement from yesterday’s 55 seconds!” came the voice of that cheerful bastard, Kisuke Urahara. “Do you need a hand?” he says, his voice full of concern.
“Shut up!! And next time, call me Kuchiki-sama.”
Byakuya walks away irascibly, sore and with a stinging cut on his ego and haughty pride.
For if there is one thing that Byakuya hates more than condescension, it is useless pity.
*****
Every morning, Byakuya wears his impregnable mask to his training. He trains and trains, for over a million seconds, and sustains a billion bruises. But he doesn’t win.
Why does he go there, he asks himself? Why does he go there to be demeaned, to have his ego crushed like it was a bland piece of paper?
But one day, he decides, he will be prepared. Prepared to fight to the death, prepared to imbue Yoruichi’s harsh lips with the colour of blood. In the pale light of the dawn, he wishes her to fall into the dirt beside him, and perish like flowers in winter.
But she is not there to greet him. Instead it is her devoted minion, Urahara, standing there, smiling, with a zanpakutou in hand. “Aah, Kuchiki-sama, let us begin your training.” he smiles.
“What, I fight with a lowly commoner like you? Hunh, fighting with you is like fighting a child with a toy sword.” Byakuya laughs malevolently.
“Well, Kuchiki-sama, Yoruichi-san thought that since you never win, she took pity on you this time, and decided to let you win by fighting with me.”
Urahara’s audacious jibe catches him unawares, and he stops. “Let’s play.” Byakuya whispers in a maliciously sweet voice.
Byakuya bestows a formidable look at him, and begins the fight.
*****
Byakuya’s anger takes hold of him again, drowning him in a sea of seething pain, a pain so intense that it drives him insane, and leaves him groping in the dark for his shattered honour.
He has lost again. To the filthy peasant from the Rukongai. And in a mere 10 seconds.
But Byakuya doesn’t realize that Yoruichi is secretly proud of her protégé, and now she has decided to make him stronger, by fighting with the best swordsman of her division.
But in Byakuya’s young eyes, there is no remission for Kisuke Urahara. And all he wishes to do is rend him to pieces.
*****
Byakuya’s muscles have reneged on him; they are tired, and refuse to budge an inch against his bête noire. But he will go on fighting, go on salvaging his pride till he drowns himself in it.
Please give up, Urahara beseeches him. Urahara knows that he cannot fight any longer, can see the tears that refute their own existence, and refuse to fall. They have been sparring for a long hour now.
The mists of dawn have disappeared, flooded by the warm daylight, and the sun bears down on them. This is the first time during Byakuya’s training that he has seen the sun shine on his bare body, glistening with sweat.
And then the exhilaration comes, and it dawns on him that he has fought with one of the unparalleled swordsmen among the shinigami. For an hour.
And then Byakuya gives a rare smile, and faints. He hasn’t won the battle.
Yet he is surprised that he has won someone’s affection and concern.
*****
Ten years, five months, and 16 days later, Byakuya finally defeats Urahara. This time, the fight lasts not for an hour, but for a whole 12 hours, from sunrise to sunset, from a misty pink horizon to a dark blue one.
This time, the fight leaves both men frazzled and delirious. One delirious with the pride of victory, the other with the pride of a teacher.
“Let us celebrate, Kuchiki-sama.”, says Urahara with a big smile, knowing the fact that he would be met with a sharp rebuke.
However, Urahara nearly falls when he heard the answer. “Yes, let’s celebrate. Today, even I want to see the disgusting taverns that the filth of the Rukongai inhabit.”
“As you wish.”
*****
The dark drapes of midnight faintly caress the two bodies lying on the floor, one fast asleep, and the other (pretending to be) drunk to oblivion. The tavern has been shut down for all except their shinigami patrons, for they are the life-blood, they are the ones who can pay for the deliciously bitter drinks they brew.
“Byakuya-chan,” whispers Urahara in the private room they have requested, “Please wake up. There will be talk if you are found here in the morning.”
Byakuya opens his eyes and grapples in the darkness. “Do not presume too much. I do not drink like a fish like you do. I am just tired.” His voice is slurred.
He tries to stand up, yet he falls. The leaven is the sake that snakes through his system, affecting his acute senses, benumbing him, bringing dullness to his thoughts and limbs, yet not poisoning his royal pride.
Urahara catches him as he falls, holding him tenderly as the proud child lies in his arms, dazed and confused. “Don’t stress yourself, I shall carry you home.”
His hands cup the ethereal beauty that is Byakuya’s face, and he wishes the child would learn some humility. For pride is a man’s greatest fall.
His eyes open, and the pretty mouth inches close to Urahara’s ear. “No, we’re spending the night here.”
“You’re too drunk, I’ll….”
“No, I want to be here with you. You didn’t treat me like dirt. You respected me and cared for me. I want to be with you.”
And before Urahara can continue, he is silenced with a mere kiss.
*****
And so the night passes. It passes in a melange of fiery kisses, pure need, and feverishly hot bodies.
Before they regain their senses, before the mellow sake is burned away by their bodies, they rub against each other. Urahara is shocked, yet he cannot resist the hands of the Kuchiki prince, meandering across his body. He cannot stop his student when he touches him there, cannot stop him from unravelling his dark black robes.
And he cannot stop Byakuya when he runs his delicate fingers along his length, when he enters the slick orifice of his body, and when he begins to move with such sweet friction, that it makes him lose all control and sanity.
And Kisuke Urahara loathes himself, when he is at the edge, when the world around him begins spinning with pain and pleasure, and when his body finally explodes, in tune with his student’s.
“I love you”, the Kuchiki heir whispers as he falls on the hard wood floor again, drunk, spent, beautiful and asleep.
*****
The morning after, when Urahara wakes up, he finds Byakuya tying his robes.
“This night never happened. And if it ever did, I’ll make sure it will be detrimental to you.” says a deadly, steel-edged voice, so unlike Byakuya.
And then Byakuya leaves. Forever and a day.
And Urahara waits in the cold of the morning, praying for forgiveness and redemption for this impiety. For both of them.
*****
“You must run, now!” screams Yoruichi in urgency, as he and Tessai finally gather the hollowfied shinigami.
“What about you?”
“I will find a way, don’t worry. Rush to the Shihouin mansion. I have arranged for help there.”
*****
And so again Urahara fights. Fights against time and fate, to rescue these lost souls, and to save himself and Tessai.
And when he enters the Shihouin mansion, a surprise awaits him.
“I knew the hell-cat was helping you, as soon as I heard of your escape.” said Byakuya calmly, pointing his sword at him. “I’ll not let you escape; I’ll bring justice to the dead ones!”
“You’re wrong; Byakuya….I’m going to help them! I have something that can save these people!”
“And why should I believe you?”
“Because you know me…because you trust that I am true.” Urahara’s eyes lock into Byakuya’s icy glare, and they plead with him. His fingers touch Byakuya’s face, and run through his hair. Byakuya flinches. “Please believe me, Kuchiki-sama.”
And then, Byakuya lowers his sword and his eyes for a moment, belying his own feelings of suspicion. “I know you…but how could you…”
“Tessai, the gate is open! NOW!”
Tessai runs through the gates to the human world, taking the half-dead shinigami with him. Urahara follows suit. But as he plunges into the fires of the human world, he whispers.
“I’m sorry…Byakuya-chan.”
*****
“Would you like these latest hair sprays?’ says Urahara, winking at the pretty female Shinigami in front of him. “They can work wonders and give your hair different colours. And ah, how about having a look at my ‘Specially for Shinigami’ ladies range? I have clothes, make-up, shoes, and the works for beautiful women like you.”
After his smooth-talking salesman act sold two hairsprays and a pair of black stilettos, he gleefully looked at the back of the retreating girl. My, she had a nice…
“Kisuke Urahara.” A cold voice permeated the air, and spiritual energy was spiralling around, making the trees wince, and the animals scared.
Urahara looked up at the tall man in front of him, enrobed regally in a black and white, signifying he was a shinigami captain. He smiled.
“Not a hundred years have passed, yet you have become so different, Byakuya-chan. Come here to arrest me?”
Byakuya laughed so coldly, that even the leaves began to shiver, fearing his wrath.
“We could have arrested you long ago, don’t think too highly of yourself.”
“I know that. I’m not egoistic enough as many others. But you’re here to talk about your new adopted sister, right?”
“How did you know?”
“I have heard the stories. About your wife, about Rukia, your sister. Sure you want to make her your sister, when she looks like your wife?”
“You insolent traitor!”
Urahara threw Byakuya a sharp glance. “I’m no traitor, I’m not the one who uses people like chattel and throws them away.”
“Mind your tongue!”
“Why should I? That day, in the tavern, you wanted to win, didn’t you? And you won, and you left me there like you never cared about me.”
“Listen, I do not try to reason with madmen. Stay away from my sister. Do not sell her trinkets.”
“You still hate and distrust me, don’t you?” Urahara whispered, coming close to Byakuya’s face, and letting his breath ghost over his lips. “You hated me even more after that night, didn’t you?”
And for a moment, the whole world seemed to melt away around them, as Urahara touched his face again, and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he kissed him gently on the lips. “I’m sorry, Byakuya-chan, but you were the one who abandoned me.”
An eerie silence seeped through the air, and the birds began to cry again, as the final shards of piercing sunlight faded away, and the sky began its journey from gold to deep blue, decorated by silver stars and a glacial moon. It was dusk.
Byakuya moved away from the man he had once fought with, the man he had once touched, the man he had once loathed. He began walking away into the sunset.
“Stay away from my sister.” His voice commanded as he turned around, to get one last look at Urahara.
“Is this goodbye, again, then?”
There was no answer, no answer from the student that Urahara had cared about, no answer from the man who once said that he loved him.
And Urahara falls to the ground, feeling as helpless and abandoned as he did that night.
But what he doesn’t see is Byakuya looking at him once again, with those young eyes, with the same tenderness they had shown, one tempestuous night. Tenderness glazed over with guilt and pain.
“I’m sorry too, Kisuke-chan.”
Genre: Angst, slight bit of smut and romance
Character/Pairing: Byakuya/Urahara, Yoruichi
Word Count: 2,281
Rating: M
Summary: Byakuya hates him, doesn't he?
Notes: Written for
unhako_neko . Sorry that I couldn't come up with anything humorous for you! And I've not written in a long time, so concrit is really welcome!
DAWN TO DUSK
Birds cry, a sliver of orange-gold creases the horizon, the darkness seems crestfallen as the sky turns misty pink. It tells of the coming of dawn.
The dawn is the love child of the endless day and seamless night. A time to gaze at the many-hued sky, a time for prayer and a time for reflection.
For Byakuya, it is the time to fight, to expiate for the fact that he is a shinigami of royal blood, that he is a Kuchiki. It is time to train with her and him.
*****
Byakuya has always hated Yoruichi. The crass, condescending, hell-cat Yoruichi.
She treats him like the brown dirt that worships her feet (even though he does not), like an innocent, credulous pup taking it’s first breath. She deems him unworthy. She deems him unequal to her.
But today, Byakuya decides to prove her wrong. He will never vindicate her for the way she makes him feel, the way she sets his insides boiling, and then freezes him by making him beg for her clemency.
But he hates him even more.
*****
“Look who the winds of fortune brought today…little Byakuya. My, the Gods are not kind to me.”, Yoruichi mocks as Byakuya arrives in the large courtyard, sword in hand, poised and eager to fight.
“I will answer you with my sword.” he hisses, every fragment of his composure threatening to break into a million shards and pierce the woman before him.
She lunges at him, moving agilely, her sword gracefully arcing through the air. Thus begins his training.
Swords flash, unfathomable amounts of spiritual energy fill the surroundings and Byakuya falls to the ground. “Say ‘Sorry, Yoruichi-sama, I will never think of you as my equal again.’” she says heartlessly. Thus his training ends.
“Oh good, Byakuya-chan, she managed to oust you in one minute this time! What a great improvement from yesterday’s 55 seconds!” came the voice of that cheerful bastard, Kisuke Urahara. “Do you need a hand?” he says, his voice full of concern.
“Shut up!! And next time, call me Kuchiki-sama.”
Byakuya walks away irascibly, sore and with a stinging cut on his ego and haughty pride.
For if there is one thing that Byakuya hates more than condescension, it is useless pity.
*****
Every morning, Byakuya wears his impregnable mask to his training. He trains and trains, for over a million seconds, and sustains a billion bruises. But he doesn’t win.
Why does he go there, he asks himself? Why does he go there to be demeaned, to have his ego crushed like it was a bland piece of paper?
But one day, he decides, he will be prepared. Prepared to fight to the death, prepared to imbue Yoruichi’s harsh lips with the colour of blood. In the pale light of the dawn, he wishes her to fall into the dirt beside him, and perish like flowers in winter.
But she is not there to greet him. Instead it is her devoted minion, Urahara, standing there, smiling, with a zanpakutou in hand. “Aah, Kuchiki-sama, let us begin your training.” he smiles.
“What, I fight with a lowly commoner like you? Hunh, fighting with you is like fighting a child with a toy sword.” Byakuya laughs malevolently.
“Well, Kuchiki-sama, Yoruichi-san thought that since you never win, she took pity on you this time, and decided to let you win by fighting with me.”
Urahara’s audacious jibe catches him unawares, and he stops. “Let’s play.” Byakuya whispers in a maliciously sweet voice.
Byakuya bestows a formidable look at him, and begins the fight.
*****
Byakuya’s anger takes hold of him again, drowning him in a sea of seething pain, a pain so intense that it drives him insane, and leaves him groping in the dark for his shattered honour.
He has lost again. To the filthy peasant from the Rukongai. And in a mere 10 seconds.
But Byakuya doesn’t realize that Yoruichi is secretly proud of her protégé, and now she has decided to make him stronger, by fighting with the best swordsman of her division.
But in Byakuya’s young eyes, there is no remission for Kisuke Urahara. And all he wishes to do is rend him to pieces.
*****
Byakuya’s muscles have reneged on him; they are tired, and refuse to budge an inch against his bête noire. But he will go on fighting, go on salvaging his pride till he drowns himself in it.
Please give up, Urahara beseeches him. Urahara knows that he cannot fight any longer, can see the tears that refute their own existence, and refuse to fall. They have been sparring for a long hour now.
The mists of dawn have disappeared, flooded by the warm daylight, and the sun bears down on them. This is the first time during Byakuya’s training that he has seen the sun shine on his bare body, glistening with sweat.
And then the exhilaration comes, and it dawns on him that he has fought with one of the unparalleled swordsmen among the shinigami. For an hour.
And then Byakuya gives a rare smile, and faints. He hasn’t won the battle.
Yet he is surprised that he has won someone’s affection and concern.
*****
Ten years, five months, and 16 days later, Byakuya finally defeats Urahara. This time, the fight lasts not for an hour, but for a whole 12 hours, from sunrise to sunset, from a misty pink horizon to a dark blue one.
This time, the fight leaves both men frazzled and delirious. One delirious with the pride of victory, the other with the pride of a teacher.
“Let us celebrate, Kuchiki-sama.”, says Urahara with a big smile, knowing the fact that he would be met with a sharp rebuke.
However, Urahara nearly falls when he heard the answer. “Yes, let’s celebrate. Today, even I want to see the disgusting taverns that the filth of the Rukongai inhabit.”
“As you wish.”
*****
The dark drapes of midnight faintly caress the two bodies lying on the floor, one fast asleep, and the other (pretending to be) drunk to oblivion. The tavern has been shut down for all except their shinigami patrons, for they are the life-blood, they are the ones who can pay for the deliciously bitter drinks they brew.
“Byakuya-chan,” whispers Urahara in the private room they have requested, “Please wake up. There will be talk if you are found here in the morning.”
Byakuya opens his eyes and grapples in the darkness. “Do not presume too much. I do not drink like a fish like you do. I am just tired.” His voice is slurred.
He tries to stand up, yet he falls. The leaven is the sake that snakes through his system, affecting his acute senses, benumbing him, bringing dullness to his thoughts and limbs, yet not poisoning his royal pride.
Urahara catches him as he falls, holding him tenderly as the proud child lies in his arms, dazed and confused. “Don’t stress yourself, I shall carry you home.”
His hands cup the ethereal beauty that is Byakuya’s face, and he wishes the child would learn some humility. For pride is a man’s greatest fall.
His eyes open, and the pretty mouth inches close to Urahara’s ear. “No, we’re spending the night here.”
“You’re too drunk, I’ll….”
“No, I want to be here with you. You didn’t treat me like dirt. You respected me and cared for me. I want to be with you.”
And before Urahara can continue, he is silenced with a mere kiss.
*****
And so the night passes. It passes in a melange of fiery kisses, pure need, and feverishly hot bodies.
Before they regain their senses, before the mellow sake is burned away by their bodies, they rub against each other. Urahara is shocked, yet he cannot resist the hands of the Kuchiki prince, meandering across his body. He cannot stop his student when he touches him there, cannot stop him from unravelling his dark black robes.
And he cannot stop Byakuya when he runs his delicate fingers along his length, when he enters the slick orifice of his body, and when he begins to move with such sweet friction, that it makes him lose all control and sanity.
And Kisuke Urahara loathes himself, when he is at the edge, when the world around him begins spinning with pain and pleasure, and when his body finally explodes, in tune with his student’s.
“I love you”, the Kuchiki heir whispers as he falls on the hard wood floor again, drunk, spent, beautiful and asleep.
*****
The morning after, when Urahara wakes up, he finds Byakuya tying his robes.
“This night never happened. And if it ever did, I’ll make sure it will be detrimental to you.” says a deadly, steel-edged voice, so unlike Byakuya.
And then Byakuya leaves. Forever and a day.
And Urahara waits in the cold of the morning, praying for forgiveness and redemption for this impiety. For both of them.
*****
“You must run, now!” screams Yoruichi in urgency, as he and Tessai finally gather the hollowfied shinigami.
“What about you?”
“I will find a way, don’t worry. Rush to the Shihouin mansion. I have arranged for help there.”
*****
And so again Urahara fights. Fights against time and fate, to rescue these lost souls, and to save himself and Tessai.
And when he enters the Shihouin mansion, a surprise awaits him.
“I knew the hell-cat was helping you, as soon as I heard of your escape.” said Byakuya calmly, pointing his sword at him. “I’ll not let you escape; I’ll bring justice to the dead ones!”
“You’re wrong; Byakuya….I’m going to help them! I have something that can save these people!”
“And why should I believe you?”
“Because you know me…because you trust that I am true.” Urahara’s eyes lock into Byakuya’s icy glare, and they plead with him. His fingers touch Byakuya’s face, and run through his hair. Byakuya flinches. “Please believe me, Kuchiki-sama.”
And then, Byakuya lowers his sword and his eyes for a moment, belying his own feelings of suspicion. “I know you…but how could you…”
“Tessai, the gate is open! NOW!”
Tessai runs through the gates to the human world, taking the half-dead shinigami with him. Urahara follows suit. But as he plunges into the fires of the human world, he whispers.
“I’m sorry…Byakuya-chan.”
*****
“Would you like these latest hair sprays?’ says Urahara, winking at the pretty female Shinigami in front of him. “They can work wonders and give your hair different colours. And ah, how about having a look at my ‘Specially for Shinigami’ ladies range? I have clothes, make-up, shoes, and the works for beautiful women like you.”
After his smooth-talking salesman act sold two hairsprays and a pair of black stilettos, he gleefully looked at the back of the retreating girl. My, she had a nice…
“Kisuke Urahara.” A cold voice permeated the air, and spiritual energy was spiralling around, making the trees wince, and the animals scared.
Urahara looked up at the tall man in front of him, enrobed regally in a black and white, signifying he was a shinigami captain. He smiled.
“Not a hundred years have passed, yet you have become so different, Byakuya-chan. Come here to arrest me?”
Byakuya laughed so coldly, that even the leaves began to shiver, fearing his wrath.
“We could have arrested you long ago, don’t think too highly of yourself.”
“I know that. I’m not egoistic enough as many others. But you’re here to talk about your new adopted sister, right?”
“How did you know?”
“I have heard the stories. About your wife, about Rukia, your sister. Sure you want to make her your sister, when she looks like your wife?”
“You insolent traitor!”
Urahara threw Byakuya a sharp glance. “I’m no traitor, I’m not the one who uses people like chattel and throws them away.”
“Mind your tongue!”
“Why should I? That day, in the tavern, you wanted to win, didn’t you? And you won, and you left me there like you never cared about me.”
“Listen, I do not try to reason with madmen. Stay away from my sister. Do not sell her trinkets.”
“You still hate and distrust me, don’t you?” Urahara whispered, coming close to Byakuya’s face, and letting his breath ghost over his lips. “You hated me even more after that night, didn’t you?”
And for a moment, the whole world seemed to melt away around them, as Urahara touched his face again, and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he kissed him gently on the lips. “I’m sorry, Byakuya-chan, but you were the one who abandoned me.”
An eerie silence seeped through the air, and the birds began to cry again, as the final shards of piercing sunlight faded away, and the sky began its journey from gold to deep blue, decorated by silver stars and a glacial moon. It was dusk.
Byakuya moved away from the man he had once fought with, the man he had once touched, the man he had once loathed. He began walking away into the sunset.
“Stay away from my sister.” His voice commanded as he turned around, to get one last look at Urahara.
“Is this goodbye, again, then?”
There was no answer, no answer from the student that Urahara had cared about, no answer from the man who once said that he loved him.
And Urahara falls to the ground, feeling as helpless and abandoned as he did that night.
But what he doesn’t see is Byakuya looking at him once again, with those young eyes, with the same tenderness they had shown, one tempestuous night. Tenderness glazed over with guilt and pain.
“I’m sorry too, Kisuke-chan.”