IS THIS INSANE OR WHAT?? TWO UPDATES IN TWO DAYS??
Hehe...
I liked how I said I'd get this up before school started. But then I realized I didn't need the last 700 words I spent two months writing (PAINFUL 700 WORDS) for this chapter at all. So after much much revamping... I now have one slightly shorter Chapter Three and part of Chapter Four.
=]
(Roughly translates to: I could've posted this waaaay earlier except I got ahead of myself. -__-)
Title: Royal Affairs
Author: bmw_remixed
Fandom: Bleach
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Byakuya, Senbonzakura
Summary: Between a Shinigami and his zanpakutou, the only conflict that exists is the one over control.
Chapter Three: Casus Belli (Cause of War)
~*~*~*~
Senbonzakura.
So that was her name.
If learning her name had been a challenge, then mastering her was even more difficult, and the thought of Bankai seemed a distant dream.
Senbonzakura, in giving him her name, had laid at his feet the disposal of her army. Just as a real army is reluctant to accept a change in command, the countless blades refused to bend to his will, regularly breaking out of formation to be knocked uselessly to the ground.
The soldiers at his command were not nameless peons who lived and died for him. They were the subjects of her world - given life with her power - and eternally faithful only to her.
He was the king only in name, and his subjects knew it.
~*~*~*~
The office had been renovated lately.
It was the same office that Senbonzakura had first shown her half drowning image over ten years ago, spraying a shocked Byakuya with water and freshly whet words. Back then, the room had been neglected since the early days of Byakuya’s father, framed with wood darkened by age and stained with the graffiti and handprints of the Kuchiki young.
Now, freshly cut wooden boards still emitting the fresh scent of forest nights lined the walls and floors, newly replaced cloth windows glowed with the borrowed light of lamps and stars, and rugs recently imported from the distant reaches of the human world layered the floor. There were vases salvaged from ancient civilizations, cushions for the guests embroidered so delicately that the images seemed to come to life, paintings from only the most prominent masters- Everything was done possible by the clan council to celebrate Byakuya most recent promotion to the Third Seat.
Byakuya himself would have none of it.
He touched none of the fancy new items he was presented with, and even the newly replaced floorboards near where he sat seemed to have reverted back to their aged and weathered state. He refused to give up his old desk for the more lavish one, carved out of brilliant ebony wood, which now sat in corner gathering dust. His old sitting cushion was beginning to tatter with the years, and yet, he kept it.
He had situated himself across from the door, facing it dead on. Byakuya liked to be prepared, watching his guests walk slowly down the carpet towards his desk, while he brained churned out the quickest and most efficient way to make them leave. While that tactic worked with most visitors, it had failed time and time again with his most frequent guest.
Senbonzakura didn’t offer him a such a luxury. She appeared randomly; an empty room when he blinked, and then present in all her glory when his eyes opened again. She started conversations before her form had solidified, and then would be gone again before finishing her thought. As much as Byakuya liked constants, Senbonzakura reveled in spontaneity.
“She seems to be a capable young woman.”
It was a muggy summer night, humidity so thick that one could feel it while waving an arm through the air. Even inside, the temperatures were almost unbearable, so suffocating that even the breezes were snuffed out. Beads of condensed vapor and sweat mingled on Byakuya’s skin, worsening his already gloomy mood. Hours of work later, the stack of papers - forms to sign, budgets to review, salaries to dish out - didn’t seem to get any smaller.
Needless to say, Senbonzakura was not welcome at the time.
Also needless to say, Senbonzakura didn’t care whether she was welcome or not.
With a characteristic flourish, she appeared before the low desk and began to wander aimlessly around the room, waiting for her presence to be acknowledged. She wouldn’t have to for long. After a few minute, Byakuya’s subconscious decided that moving objects - even moving objects with nasty temperaments that only he could see - were more interesting than paperwork.
“There’s more room elsewhere to do that.”
An elegantly trimmed eyebrow arched in answer.
“Is that a cleverly hidden device to send me away?”
A faint rustle of fabrics, and suddenly Senbonzakura appeared behind him, pretending to read his increasingly messy handwriting.
“So,” Senbonzakura whispered lazily in his ear, “who is she?”
Byakuya could feel her breath ghosting across his neck - breath that she wasn’t supposed to have - rustling the small hairs on the back of his neck, his nerves tingling in response. Blinking in annoyance, he sat up straighter in the cushion, both to stretch his strained back and to avoid her close proximity.
Stiffly, he said, answering both questions, “I do not know what you mean.”
“Please,” scoffed Senbonzakura, rising, “Your mind is like a book, I can read all of your thoughts and feelings.” Her countenance turning smug, she added, “You can’t hide anything from me.”
Byakuya was unfazed - conversations like this were all too common. “Then why bother asking me?”
She glanced at him, the barest hint of a smile gracing her lips, and a sinisterly amused glint in her eyes. Pretending to think for a moment, she said slowly, “Well, one can’t exactly have a decent conversation with a book.”
Byakuya pretended to ignore her, trying his hardest to focus his swirling vision into coherent blocks of kanji and numbers. He tapped his finger on the brush and the brush on the table, torn between the new series of expense reports and Senbonzakura’s expectant smile.
Her voice cut through his thoughts, now with the barest edge of annoyance.
“Well?”
Byakuya mentally weighed his options: a few shreds of dignity for a few moments of peace. He looked up at Senbonzakura, still staring at him while she stood there toying with her sleeve.
“If I talk, will you go?”
“We’ll see.”
Sighing, he placed his brush down firmly, moves slowed with reluctance. Byakuya didn’t have time for contributing to such gossip, there were much more important things to do. He turned around and faced her, wearing his usual expressionless mask.
“What do you want to know?”
“About that wretched waif of a girl you’ve been obsessing over, of course,” she teased, “the one who looks like she will break.”
“Hisana-san has poor health,” Byakuya answered.
“So she does exist - and she has a name!” Senbonzakura cooed, sarcastic glee dripping off of every word, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement.
Unaffected, Byakuya said, “It wasn’t as if you didn’t know.”
“But to hear you think it in secret is one thing, to hear you admit it out loud is another. It’s a nice break from the endless droning of ‘Hisana! Hisana!’ in the back of our link.”
Byakuya forced himself to keep his face neutral.
“Hisana-san is merely a fellow Shinigami in my division. I’m helping her to get her transfer approved.”
“I thought Moira-san was in charge of transfers.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“It isn’t polite to refuse help.”
“If it were anyone else, you would send them to Moira without a second thought.”
“I suppose I would,” he replied nonchalantly.
“If it were anyone else, you would tell them you don’t have the time to waste on them because you have your own job to do, not waste time worrying about theirs.”
Byakuya didn’t answer.
Senbonzakura continued, her tone light, “If it were anyone else, you would have threatened to destroy any hopes of them progressing in the Gotei 13. You would’ve barred them from the office, you would’ve lectured them, you would’ve to stop bothering you and go do their job. You wouldn’t have stood there staring blankly, agreeing to fill out her forms for her when you clearly needed the time to do your own job. You wouldn’t have used all your time, you wouldn’t have pushed all of your work until now - you wouldn’t be having this conversation with me!”
“I know exactly what I’m doing, you don’t have to lecture me,” Byakuya said annoyed, mentally calculating the amount of work he still had left.
“Do you?”
“You are exaggerating things. I merely put in a petition for her to transferred to the fourth.”
“Nevertheless, you are growing too attached to her.”
“Jealous?”
Senbonzakura blinked, mouth open to fire a retort that never came. She looked indignant, eyes narrowing so severely Byakuya thought her face would crack, lips pursed into a thin line. Any less control, she would’ve been gaping and gasping like a fish. Byakuya found himself smirking - inwardly, of course - at her response. He continued watching as she struggled to regain her composure, surprise and confusion melting down in a steely glare.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Senbonzakura almost snarled before promptly disappearing.
Going back to his work, Byakuya couldn’t remember when Senbonzakura began taking an interest in his personal life, but he does remember more than enough uncomfortable interrogating conversations with her similar to the one they were having now. There was a line between nosy and downright invasive, and she was crossing it.
He didn’t like to admit it, but the truth was, he had been intrigued by Hisana.
Byakuya turned back towards the still unfinished report, and focused his attention in its entirety on it, determined not to be distracted again. Suddenly, he jumped as a cold prickling sensation spread through him. Looking up, he saw Senbonzakura leaning over him, the folds of her gown brushing against his bare cheek, her deceptively delicate hand pressed gently against his face.
The uncomfortable brush of skin on his face was too intimate, and her unsubstantial form made it impossible to move the offending appendage. Facing her, he couldn’t decide what disturbed him more, the lights he could see flickering through her body or the strange expression on her face, a condescending mix of amusement and sadeness, which made her seem all too human.
“Senbonzakura is only looking out for you,” she whispered softly, her eyes cast down, her words haunting in the familiarity of how they were spoken. Just exactly where he had heard this before, he couldn’t remember.
Senbonzakura inched closer.
“Byakuya-sama,” she whispered.
Hisana?
The way Senbonzakura said it - his name alighting from the tip of her tongue to ghost across his ears - it was exactly the same. The lilt, the inflection, the breathy whisper - so familiar! He peered closer at his sword’s avatar and immediately recoiled. He flung his hand out and accidentally knocked over a bottle of ink - ruining hours of work. The black liquid pooled onto his hands and onto the floor, staining the wood and invading even the littlest creases in his palm - seemingly taking over every last part of him.
It wasn’t Hisana.
Only Senbonzakura.
Only Senbonzakura creating a distorted image of the woman he-
-- of the woman he knew.
“What are you doing?” He nearly choked on his words as he inched away slowly, hands braced on the wood floor for purchase. The translucent form in front of him slinked closer, her thick tresses falling out of its ornate braiding and curtaining over her eyes. He almost imagined smelling the cloying perfume of cherry blossoms, he could see Hisana in that part-worshiping, part-regretful smile. Suddenly, his fingers met the vertical planking of the wall, but still he kept moving, until the bumps and ridges in the wood were felt clearly through his clothing.
She averts her eyes and glances meekly through her eyelashes - the picture perfect image of a docile woman. He knew she was anything but.
“Senbonzakura is afraid.”
“Of what?” he hesitantly asked, in trepidation of her answer.
She edged closer; he pressed harder against the wood.
“Senbonzakura is afraid of being replaced.”
She came even closer, her face inches away from his. Byakuya felt a seeping cold spreading where her body was sitting through his, moisture condensing on his chilled flesh. He wished he could pass through the thin walls that divided him from the next room, to escape her close proximity, but he also knew that it was futile. To run away from your Zanpakutou was to run away from yourself.
“Senbonzakura is worried that Byakuya-sama would be too enamored with Hisana-sama to remember the one who’s always been there,” she murmured against his chest, her ghostly breath freezing his own.
She looked up at him, eyes impossibly wide, and reached up to trace a thin hand along the curve of his cheek. Her touch left a trail of phantom sensations that he doesn’t allow himself to brush away. She leaned closer, her voice sounding in his ear for the second time that night.
“Is this what Byakuya-sama likes?” The hand on his face threaded itself through his hair, tugging the strings that held his Keisanken together. “The slight wimper of your name accompanied by a breath on your skin? The feel of someone adoring you so completely, the wide-eyed stare she gives, riding on your every word?”
She pulled back and stared him in the eye.
“Does Byakuya-sama covet the control he lacks with Senbonzakura?”
As he stared her, not know how to respond, torn between rage and the desire to keep the last shreds of his dignity, the mask of innocence shatters and an ugly snarl takes over her porcelain doll face. She rises up, her hand still clamped like a vise on his face. Suddenly she whips her arm and knocks him to the ground. It was the only time she had been violent to him: scathing, sarcastic, bitter, yes. Violent: no.
“Byakuya-sama is Senbonzakura’s alone.” The honorific oozed with sarcasm.
Byakuya felt her crouching over him, a predator over her prone prey, gloating right before the killing blow. She leans in and hisses, her tone more maleficent every time she referred to herself.
“Senbonzakura doesn’t believe Byakuya arrived at his current position without Senbonzakura’s assistance. Senbonzakura is the only important one in Byakuya’s life. She is the only one Byakuya will ever need, she is the only one Byakuya will ever rely on, and she will not stand to be replaced by a mortal, especially one with such a pitiful background.”
She shoved his head into the floor and kneeled on his back, her bony knees crushing his spine, claw-like fingers tangled in his locks.
When did she become so… solid?
She spoke with so much finality, so much confidence, so much dominance that it wasn’t only her weight holding him down - he could’ve easily thrown her off - as it was her resolve, straight and piercing as stakes - plunging through him to pin him on the floor.
“Senbonzakura will not relinquish her control to Hisana.”
Start:04.08.07
End: 09.05.07
(Chapter Two: Political Union [For the Sake of Duty])
(Chapter One: The Queen is Dead, Long Live the Queen)
RAWR. I HAVE SCHOOL PROJECT ALREADY. KTHXBAI.
I liked how I said I'd get this up before school started. But then I realized I didn't need the last 700 words I spent two months writing (PAINFUL 700 WORDS) for this chapter at all. So after much much revamping... I now have one slightly shorter Chapter Three and part of Chapter Four.
=]
(Roughly translates to: I could've posted this waaaay earlier except I got ahead of myself. -__-)
Title: Royal Affairs
Author: bmw_remixed
Fandom: Bleach
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Byakuya, Senbonzakura
Summary: Between a Shinigami and his zanpakutou, the only conflict that exists is the one over control.
Chapter Three: Casus Belli (Cause of War)
~*~*~*~
Senbonzakura.
So that was her name.
If learning her name had been a challenge, then mastering her was even more difficult, and the thought of Bankai seemed a distant dream.
Senbonzakura, in giving him her name, had laid at his feet the disposal of her army. Just as a real army is reluctant to accept a change in command, the countless blades refused to bend to his will, regularly breaking out of formation to be knocked uselessly to the ground.
The soldiers at his command were not nameless peons who lived and died for him. They were the subjects of her world - given life with her power - and eternally faithful only to her.
He was the king only in name, and his subjects knew it.
~*~*~*~
The office had been renovated lately.
It was the same office that Senbonzakura had first shown her half drowning image over ten years ago, spraying a shocked Byakuya with water and freshly whet words. Back then, the room had been neglected since the early days of Byakuya’s father, framed with wood darkened by age and stained with the graffiti and handprints of the Kuchiki young.
Now, freshly cut wooden boards still emitting the fresh scent of forest nights lined the walls and floors, newly replaced cloth windows glowed with the borrowed light of lamps and stars, and rugs recently imported from the distant reaches of the human world layered the floor. There were vases salvaged from ancient civilizations, cushions for the guests embroidered so delicately that the images seemed to come to life, paintings from only the most prominent masters- Everything was done possible by the clan council to celebrate Byakuya most recent promotion to the Third Seat.
Byakuya himself would have none of it.
He touched none of the fancy new items he was presented with, and even the newly replaced floorboards near where he sat seemed to have reverted back to their aged and weathered state. He refused to give up his old desk for the more lavish one, carved out of brilliant ebony wood, which now sat in corner gathering dust. His old sitting cushion was beginning to tatter with the years, and yet, he kept it.
He had situated himself across from the door, facing it dead on. Byakuya liked to be prepared, watching his guests walk slowly down the carpet towards his desk, while he brained churned out the quickest and most efficient way to make them leave. While that tactic worked with most visitors, it had failed time and time again with his most frequent guest.
Senbonzakura didn’t offer him a such a luxury. She appeared randomly; an empty room when he blinked, and then present in all her glory when his eyes opened again. She started conversations before her form had solidified, and then would be gone again before finishing her thought. As much as Byakuya liked constants, Senbonzakura reveled in spontaneity.
“She seems to be a capable young woman.”
It was a muggy summer night, humidity so thick that one could feel it while waving an arm through the air. Even inside, the temperatures were almost unbearable, so suffocating that even the breezes were snuffed out. Beads of condensed vapor and sweat mingled on Byakuya’s skin, worsening his already gloomy mood. Hours of work later, the stack of papers - forms to sign, budgets to review, salaries to dish out - didn’t seem to get any smaller.
Needless to say, Senbonzakura was not welcome at the time.
Also needless to say, Senbonzakura didn’t care whether she was welcome or not.
With a characteristic flourish, she appeared before the low desk and began to wander aimlessly around the room, waiting for her presence to be acknowledged. She wouldn’t have to for long. After a few minute, Byakuya’s subconscious decided that moving objects - even moving objects with nasty temperaments that only he could see - were more interesting than paperwork.
“There’s more room elsewhere to do that.”
An elegantly trimmed eyebrow arched in answer.
“Is that a cleverly hidden device to send me away?”
A faint rustle of fabrics, and suddenly Senbonzakura appeared behind him, pretending to read his increasingly messy handwriting.
“So,” Senbonzakura whispered lazily in his ear, “who is she?”
Byakuya could feel her breath ghosting across his neck - breath that she wasn’t supposed to have - rustling the small hairs on the back of his neck, his nerves tingling in response. Blinking in annoyance, he sat up straighter in the cushion, both to stretch his strained back and to avoid her close proximity.
Stiffly, he said, answering both questions, “I do not know what you mean.”
“Please,” scoffed Senbonzakura, rising, “Your mind is like a book, I can read all of your thoughts and feelings.” Her countenance turning smug, she added, “You can’t hide anything from me.”
Byakuya was unfazed - conversations like this were all too common. “Then why bother asking me?”
She glanced at him, the barest hint of a smile gracing her lips, and a sinisterly amused glint in her eyes. Pretending to think for a moment, she said slowly, “Well, one can’t exactly have a decent conversation with a book.”
Byakuya pretended to ignore her, trying his hardest to focus his swirling vision into coherent blocks of kanji and numbers. He tapped his finger on the brush and the brush on the table, torn between the new series of expense reports and Senbonzakura’s expectant smile.
Her voice cut through his thoughts, now with the barest edge of annoyance.
“Well?”
Byakuya mentally weighed his options: a few shreds of dignity for a few moments of peace. He looked up at Senbonzakura, still staring at him while she stood there toying with her sleeve.
“If I talk, will you go?”
“We’ll see.”
Sighing, he placed his brush down firmly, moves slowed with reluctance. Byakuya didn’t have time for contributing to such gossip, there were much more important things to do. He turned around and faced her, wearing his usual expressionless mask.
“What do you want to know?”
“About that wretched waif of a girl you’ve been obsessing over, of course,” she teased, “the one who looks like she will break.”
“Hisana-san has poor health,” Byakuya answered.
“So she does exist - and she has a name!” Senbonzakura cooed, sarcastic glee dripping off of every word, the corners of her lips twitching in amusement.
Unaffected, Byakuya said, “It wasn’t as if you didn’t know.”
“But to hear you think it in secret is one thing, to hear you admit it out loud is another. It’s a nice break from the endless droning of ‘Hisana! Hisana!’ in the back of our link.”
Byakuya forced himself to keep his face neutral.
“Hisana-san is merely a fellow Shinigami in my division. I’m helping her to get her transfer approved.”
“I thought Moira-san was in charge of transfers.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“It isn’t polite to refuse help.”
“If it were anyone else, you would send them to Moira without a second thought.”
“I suppose I would,” he replied nonchalantly.
“If it were anyone else, you would tell them you don’t have the time to waste on them because you have your own job to do, not waste time worrying about theirs.”
Byakuya didn’t answer.
Senbonzakura continued, her tone light, “If it were anyone else, you would have threatened to destroy any hopes of them progressing in the Gotei 13. You would’ve barred them from the office, you would’ve lectured them, you would’ve to stop bothering you and go do their job. You wouldn’t have stood there staring blankly, agreeing to fill out her forms for her when you clearly needed the time to do your own job. You wouldn’t have used all your time, you wouldn’t have pushed all of your work until now - you wouldn’t be having this conversation with me!”
“I know exactly what I’m doing, you don’t have to lecture me,” Byakuya said annoyed, mentally calculating the amount of work he still had left.
“Do you?”
“You are exaggerating things. I merely put in a petition for her to transferred to the fourth.”
“Nevertheless, you are growing too attached to her.”
“Jealous?”
Senbonzakura blinked, mouth open to fire a retort that never came. She looked indignant, eyes narrowing so severely Byakuya thought her face would crack, lips pursed into a thin line. Any less control, she would’ve been gaping and gasping like a fish. Byakuya found himself smirking - inwardly, of course - at her response. He continued watching as she struggled to regain her composure, surprise and confusion melting down in a steely glare.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Senbonzakura almost snarled before promptly disappearing.
Going back to his work, Byakuya couldn’t remember when Senbonzakura began taking an interest in his personal life, but he does remember more than enough uncomfortable interrogating conversations with her similar to the one they were having now. There was a line between nosy and downright invasive, and she was crossing it.
He didn’t like to admit it, but the truth was, he had been intrigued by Hisana.
Byakuya turned back towards the still unfinished report, and focused his attention in its entirety on it, determined not to be distracted again. Suddenly, he jumped as a cold prickling sensation spread through him. Looking up, he saw Senbonzakura leaning over him, the folds of her gown brushing against his bare cheek, her deceptively delicate hand pressed gently against his face.
The uncomfortable brush of skin on his face was too intimate, and her unsubstantial form made it impossible to move the offending appendage. Facing her, he couldn’t decide what disturbed him more, the lights he could see flickering through her body or the strange expression on her face, a condescending mix of amusement and sadeness, which made her seem all too human.
“Senbonzakura is only looking out for you,” she whispered softly, her eyes cast down, her words haunting in the familiarity of how they were spoken. Just exactly where he had heard this before, he couldn’t remember.
Senbonzakura inched closer.
“Byakuya-sama,” she whispered.
Hisana?
The way Senbonzakura said it - his name alighting from the tip of her tongue to ghost across his ears - it was exactly the same. The lilt, the inflection, the breathy whisper - so familiar! He peered closer at his sword’s avatar and immediately recoiled. He flung his hand out and accidentally knocked over a bottle of ink - ruining hours of work. The black liquid pooled onto his hands and onto the floor, staining the wood and invading even the littlest creases in his palm - seemingly taking over every last part of him.
It wasn’t Hisana.
Only Senbonzakura.
Only Senbonzakura creating a distorted image of the woman he-
-- of the woman he knew.
“What are you doing?” He nearly choked on his words as he inched away slowly, hands braced on the wood floor for purchase. The translucent form in front of him slinked closer, her thick tresses falling out of its ornate braiding and curtaining over her eyes. He almost imagined smelling the cloying perfume of cherry blossoms, he could see Hisana in that part-worshiping, part-regretful smile. Suddenly, his fingers met the vertical planking of the wall, but still he kept moving, until the bumps and ridges in the wood were felt clearly through his clothing.
She averts her eyes and glances meekly through her eyelashes - the picture perfect image of a docile woman. He knew she was anything but.
“Senbonzakura is afraid.”
“Of what?” he hesitantly asked, in trepidation of her answer.
She edged closer; he pressed harder against the wood.
“Senbonzakura is afraid of being replaced.”
She came even closer, her face inches away from his. Byakuya felt a seeping cold spreading where her body was sitting through his, moisture condensing on his chilled flesh. He wished he could pass through the thin walls that divided him from the next room, to escape her close proximity, but he also knew that it was futile. To run away from your Zanpakutou was to run away from yourself.
“Senbonzakura is worried that Byakuya-sama would be too enamored with Hisana-sama to remember the one who’s always been there,” she murmured against his chest, her ghostly breath freezing his own.
She looked up at him, eyes impossibly wide, and reached up to trace a thin hand along the curve of his cheek. Her touch left a trail of phantom sensations that he doesn’t allow himself to brush away. She leaned closer, her voice sounding in his ear for the second time that night.
“Is this what Byakuya-sama likes?” The hand on his face threaded itself through his hair, tugging the strings that held his Keisanken together. “The slight wimper of your name accompanied by a breath on your skin? The feel of someone adoring you so completely, the wide-eyed stare she gives, riding on your every word?”
She pulled back and stared him in the eye.
“Does Byakuya-sama covet the control he lacks with Senbonzakura?”
As he stared her, not know how to respond, torn between rage and the desire to keep the last shreds of his dignity, the mask of innocence shatters and an ugly snarl takes over her porcelain doll face. She rises up, her hand still clamped like a vise on his face. Suddenly she whips her arm and knocks him to the ground. It was the only time she had been violent to him: scathing, sarcastic, bitter, yes. Violent: no.
“Byakuya-sama is Senbonzakura’s alone.” The honorific oozed with sarcasm.
Byakuya felt her crouching over him, a predator over her prone prey, gloating right before the killing blow. She leans in and hisses, her tone more maleficent every time she referred to herself.
“Senbonzakura doesn’t believe Byakuya arrived at his current position without Senbonzakura’s assistance. Senbonzakura is the only important one in Byakuya’s life. She is the only one Byakuya will ever need, she is the only one Byakuya will ever rely on, and she will not stand to be replaced by a mortal, especially one with such a pitiful background.”
She shoved his head into the floor and kneeled on his back, her bony knees crushing his spine, claw-like fingers tangled in his locks.
When did she become so… solid?
She spoke with so much finality, so much confidence, so much dominance that it wasn’t only her weight holding him down - he could’ve easily thrown her off - as it was her resolve, straight and piercing as stakes - plunging through him to pin him on the floor.
“Senbonzakura will not relinquish her control to Hisana.”
Start:04.08.07
End: 09.05.07
(Chapter Two: Political Union [For the Sake of Duty])
(Chapter One: The Queen is Dead, Long Live the Queen)
RAWR. I HAVE SCHOOL PROJECT ALREADY. KTHXBAI.