[Log] Byakuya Kuchiki, Vergil Sparda
Title: Two Princes
Characters: Byakuya Kuchiki (
gogochan), Vergil Sparda (
gogodgene)
Timeline: April 3, 1950
Rating: PG
Summary: Two princely men meet for the first time, and find themselves discussing art, poetry, and the concept of perfection.
Authors' Note: A photo of the ancient sculpture of 'Apollo's torso' can be found here.
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Byakuya was pleased with his purchase. More than pleased, actually. The antique Japanese calligraphy set was remarkably similar to one that his grandfather had once treasured. After working his way through the finest of schools, and enduring a near-endless array of private tutors, the Kuchiki scion's penmanship could only be described as...exquisite. Had he been raised in Japan, Byakuya would surely be adept at shodo as well...if one could consider oneself "adept" at something that is as much a form of art as it is a medium for communication.
The solemn, gray-eyed heir had studied calligraphy as a youth, but only for a short while. Forget the ancient lineage and noble blood (both Japanese and European), to a haughty, energetic, and intensely competitive boy, calligraphy could never be as exciting a discipline as kendo, fencing, or even archery. Suffice to say that adolescent Byakuya lacked both the interest and the patience to learn and perfect more than rudimentary or simple shodo.
Adult Byakuya, however, had patience to spare. After learning how to focus and channel his innate intensity--as befitting a proper Kuchiki--the heir found that it took more than physical exertion, and exhaustion, to quiet and soothe his mind. In recent years, the idea of practicing calligraphy had become more and more appealing. First, shodo catered to his appreciation for both art and letters. Beyond that, it was a way for the blue-blooded brunet to connect with his Japanese heritage; on his terms, on his own time, and--most importantly--without incurring any hostility, discrimination, or negative publicity. Though Byakuya was fiercely proud of his ancestry, the war had taught him to be grateful that the Kuchikis were so thoroughly ensconced in the "American aristocracy." The power and prestige they'd come to wield in New World politics and society had played a huge factor in preserving the Kuchikis' Old World wealth.
Back to the present... While the Kuchiki clan's determined, young leader had finally developed both the patience and the interest to learn calligraphy, what he now lacked was time. Manging the family fortune and its wide array of assets, on top of pursuing his own entrepreneurial goals, didn't grant Byakuya much opportunity to explore new hobbies. Still...at the very least, the beautiful, antique calligraphy set, would be a welcome addition to his home office. The set was a work of art in itself. The intricately carved and delicately painted lacquered box could hold any number of treasures, though the fact that tools within had been well used and well cared for made them...priceless.
Best of all, Byakuya had beaten several passionate bidders to claim this prize. At heart, the aloof and calculating brunet was still intensely competitive. That was unlikely to change--now or ever. The stoic scion enjoyed auctions. They were just as thrilling as a high-stakes horse race, but offered much more control.
Of course, unlike the Preakness or the Derby, winning at an auction meant spending money rather than making it. Not that Byakuya had a problem with that. He'd much rather spend his money on an highly desired item of great value and/or renown than spend it on a horse that may or may not reward him with more...money.
The dapper hotelier wasn't a compulsive, or impulsive, buyer, and was as analytical and shrewd at auctions as he was with the any major purchase. And when Byakuya made up his mind to bid, he did so with a calm, concentrated, and--some say--chilling confidence. Only a self-centered dandy or a complete fool would fail to catch that subtle display of power and entitlement. Bidding against the quietly earnest Kuchiki meant that you were either going to be out-bid, or you were going to spend a small fortune to best him.
While the auctioneer moved on to the next lot, Byakuya slipped quietly from his seat, intent on leaving before the auction's official end--and thus escaping the "social hour" that would inevitably follow. It took less time than he expected to settle his debt, and while the hotelier had been absent from work longer than expected, he found himself somewhat loath to leave. Perhaps this stemmed from the overachieving heir's reluctance to take much "personal time" during the work week (or weekend, for that matter). Or, maybe this was the first time in a while that Byakuya could remember having any real fun.
Perhaps it was a bit of both.
In any case, the willowy brunet--part multi-millionaire aristocrat, part shrewd businessman--soon found himself strolling through the art gallery adjacent to Gates of Dis. The gallery was connected to the auction house, yet had its own distinct personality. It was, as always, exceptionally well-curated, with a range of artworks in a variety of mediums available for purchase. At first glance, there were several that looked interesting, including a rather plain, but nonetheless intriguing, marble torso.
Truth be told, Byakuya had been in the market for something new with which to liven up his office at The Senbonzakura. Something...different. No, make that something remarkable. Something unusual, introspective, and thought-provoking... Something that would continue to catch his eye, even if he were to look upon it every single day.
Vergil prided himself on his auction house: the Gates of Dis. It was beautiful, to put it simply, and quite popular despite it being smaller than its main competitors. Gates of Dis' popularity was most likely due to the fact that the treasures he and the Diablos obtained were impressive, to say the least. With such valuable items up for auction, Vergil knew that he would immediately attract the ones who had money to spare, and then some. With Gates of Dis going as strongly as it was, the white-haired commandante knew the Diablos would be well taken care of.
Sometimes, the audience and patrons became quite spirited, with some bidding wars taking a while to complete. Most of the time, Vergil sat in on those fiery battles of money versus more money, but he was also content to look after the gallery rather than be in the crowd. At least in the gallery, it was quiet, and he could get a moment to himself before congratulating the big spenders of the auction and thanking them for their patronage.
Which was currently what the katana wielder had his mind set on doing.
During a break in the battle of currency, Vergil had sought out the auctioneer, an elderly gentleman named Thomas (a man who had been with the Diablos leader ever since he had opened Dis to the public), to see how they were doing. As usual, it had all going swimmingly, and they were turning quite a profit. This was also one of those times where Thomas spoke adamantly about Gate of Dis' biggest contributor of the evening. Well, the graying man mostly talked about the big spender's battle with a certain brunet; someone Thomas hadn't recognized until all was said and done. Much to Vergil's surprise, the fierce competitor had turned out to be a very well known man: Mr. Byakuya Kuchiki. A man the white-haired gangster knew all too well, just from the papers alone. He had been the one caught up some years ago in that battle between the three biggest mob families on the east coast--the American aristocrat and his poor, dead wife.
If Mr. Kuchiki had chosen to grace Vergil's halls with his presence, the white-haired proprietor figured he would be more interesting to talk to than the auction's biggest patron. Thankfully, Thomas pointed him in the direction of the gallery, where Mr. Kuchiki had last been seen. A serene place in which to converse, if nothing else.
He found the brunet observing one of the many marble statues in the gallery, and found himself surprised that, for a man who had accomplished so much, Byakuya Kuchiki still appeared so young. No...ageless. He had always been fascinated by the man, and to see him in the flesh was a pleasant shock. A slight smile formed on his lips, as he finally stopped by the brunet's side.
"Mr. Kuchiki, I presume?" Vergil held out his hand to offer a friendly shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Vergil Sparda. I heard you had quite the battle today to gain ownership of a calligraphy set."
Byakuya turned slowly, cocking his head as he took in the smooth, cultured voice and visage to match. Well, well. So this was Vergil Sparda. A surprise, to be sure, and a pleasant one at that. The multi-millionaire knew the auction house's proprietor by name and reputation, but hadn't imagined that the man would be so young. Or youthful. Perhaps he was older than he looked. Appearances could be deceiving and all that...
"Indeed," Byakuya replied, turning to face Vergil fully before taking his hand in a firm, businesslike grip. "And the pleasure is all mine." During the handshake, the heir's sharp gray eyes swept discreetly over the man before him, taking particular interest in the luminosity of both his sparkling blue eyes and shining opalescent hair. The color of his eyes was enhanced by a vibrant, exquisitely-tailored coat of a hue that could only be described as "royal blue." Naturally, the art dealer's classically chiseled features weren't lost on Byakuya either. Handsome, to be sure. Striking, even...
The hotelier had been looking for something remarkable, but certainly hadn't expected that something to be someone.
"The calligraphy set..." he continued, after releasing Vergil's warm, yet slightly rough and callused, hand. How interesting for this dapper businessman to have hands that spoke of rigorous activity. Maybe Vergil was also an artist. A sculptor, perhaps... At any rate, roughened hands did not go part and parcel with the man's smooth voice, richly embroidered clothes, and majestic bearing. There was obviously more to Vergil Sparda than met the eye.
"...Yes. I am quite pleased with that acquisition." Byakuya arched one sleek eyebrow. "Though I would hardly call that a 'battle.' A 'skirmish,' perhaps." The elegant heir treated the white-haired art dealer to the slightest hint of a smile. "I simply had to have it. After that...there was no contest."
Vergil certainly didn't miss the way Byakuya's eyes had scanned over his form, which was, of course, a welcome surprise. Although, as to whether he liked what he saw was a mystery. The man's face remained as stoic as ever, which the blade wielder minded not. The Kuchiki heir reminded him most of one of the beautiful statues adorning his halls. Although, thankfully, as serene as he was, Byakuya's face did not forever hold the same expression.
Vergil knew that he was pleased with what he saw in the Kuchiki, at any rate.
The almost-albino man allowed himself a smirk as the brunet before him regarded his war with the other bidders nothing more than a skirmish. Most times, Vergil would consider such a statement to be sheer egotism, but there was something about Byakuya that made him believe it. The elder Sparda twin knew a strong man when he saw him, and the Kuchiki "prince"--even though he did not look like a threat--simply radiated an indomitable prowess. Very interesting indeed. He had never known an invincible spirit outside of his own family. His mother, his father; even Dante...
"Of course. How foolish of me to exaggerate such a thing. You are Byakuya Kuchiki; something of this matter should be nothing more than a trifle, hmm?" In a battle of finances, Vergil doubted there were many people in the world that could ever beat the prince Kuchiki. The katana master looked to the statue Byakuya had been observing moments earlier, recognizing it as the headless, legless torso that his uncultured brother had called "junk."
"You know of this piece, correct? It's become a favorite of mine, recently. 'And yet his torso is suffused with brilliance from the inside, like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low, gleams in all its power.'"
Oh, my...
Rilke.
Byakuya's eyes widened for a brief moment, and then narrowed slightly. He cocked his head to glance at the exquisite marble statue. "Otherwise the curved breast could not dazzle you so..." the heir intoned slowly, almost reverently, as his eyes found their way back to Vergil's.
"One could describe my knowledge of that poem as bordering on abstruse." Though Byakuya's gaze was sharp, almost piercing, his aristocratic features maintained their dispassionate mask. Again, the Kuchiki heir was not boasting. That particular poem held a deep, personal significance for him.
"I am familiar with this sculpture," Byakuya continued, turning once again toward the artwork in question. "The Archaic Torso of Apollo, I presume? Amazing. I thought that it was housed in the Louvre. Apparently not..."
Amazing, indeed. The willowy brunet began to appraise the white marble torso in earnest. "The search for perfection. The desire to know...to reach...to possess the sublime. Hmm ..." Pale gray eyes--cold as ice and quick as mercury--trailed over the headless, armless, legless form, pausing at the uniquely male area where a smile ran through the placid hips down to the tapered loins. Or, rather, where the dark center where procreation flared would be, were this not an expression of the unattainable.
"...An exceptional work of art," the Kuchiki drawled in his deep monotone after studying the torso for several long moments. "Classically beautiful, yet timeless. A remarkable depiction of the human form. But, no..." A flash of understanding made the brunet's flinty eyes nearly sparkle. "Not human. Apollo's torso. The body of a god..." Byakuya pursed his lips, tapping one long, flawless finger against the angled contour of his jaw. "Rather, this is the sculptor's interpretation of antiquity's epitome of masculine beauty, the Greek Dues Sol...as so depicted by Rilke."
The Kuchiki inspected the carefully carved marble yet again. Was this the perfect male form? ...Of course not. Such a declaration was impossible without the legendary head with eyes like ripening fruit...and so on. Besides, the concept of "perfection" was entirely personal--subject to the eye of the beholder... Byakuya could imagine Apollo's face and features, hands and arms... But how would his vision compare to, say, Gates of Dis' polished, poised proprietor?
Define "perfection." ...Now that could make for a truly fascinating philosophical discussion.
"You referred to this piece as one of your favorites," Byakuya murmured. "I feel likewise about the poem. Indeed it is a favorite, though I do both it and Rilke a grave injustice by trying to claim it in such a pedestrian way. The poem transcends...in the same manner as its subject matter. It is art. And I am but an art collector..." Said collector--a man of both ancient and noble lineage, whose ancestors claimed to have descended from the gods--let his voice trail off before sighing softly.
"And you are an art dealer..." the hotelier said at last. "Apollo's" torso was now between them, prompting Byakuya to compare the soft white glow of the weathered marble with the pure, alpine white of Vergil's hair. It was almost amusing how the bright white of the man's hair made the precious stone appear somewhat dull.
Hmm... Hair devoid of pigment. Skin so fair that it was nearly translucent. Elongated neck and well-defined features. ...And those brilliant blue eyes. It was likely that Vergil was of Norse descent. A modern day wichingi. Why, he could have been a poster boy for the Aryan campaign. The perfect example of...perfection.
...In the eyes of certain beholders. Such as...half of Europe.
Perish the thought. Byakuya did not want to associate the urbane art dealer with the horrors of the Third Reich. He blinked once, exorcised the haunting thought from his mind, and continued his query. "Was it your appreciation of this sculpture that drew you to Rilke's poem?"
It was like a breath of fresh air to have an intellectual conversation that wasn't just a means of competing with someone. Even then, making small talk that actually used more than two percent of his brain power was a chance that didn't occur too often. He had met one too many "collectors" in these halls to know that most people could only pretend to know what they were talking about. They would study the bare facts about art in general just to make haughty conversation at dinner parties with other blow-hards. It had proven to Vergil that just because someone was wealthy did not mean that he or she was...educated.
Byakuya was slowly rising on the list of people he respected. Not that he had been expecting much else from the Kuchiki, but it was still a nice, reaffirming thought. The serene scion certainly seemed to know his way around the cultured workings of art, describing and breaking down the artistic meaning in the torso before them. It was quite...inspiring. So much so, that a pleased grin continued to grace his features throughout the entire time that the stoic brunet praised Apollo's torso. There was certainly much to say about a perfect body, but Vergil was one who could appreciate stunning "gray matter" over a flawless physical frame.
"I cannot say how I was drawn to this poem in the first place. Truly, I first read it as a child from a book of poetry in my mother's study. Of course, I knew nothing when it came to the poem's true meaning, but after years of watching the events of my life unfold... I believe that perfection is a weakness, in any case." Everything in his life had been built around the damnable word, and the foundations of that faux-flawless life had crumbled as easily as they were built. Vergil had learned quickly that to be perfect was a death-sentence. The only absolute truth in his life was strength: strength in numbers, strength in knowledge, moral strength, strength in resolve, and strength in body. Therefore, he was driven to master every attribute of strength.
"As for the torso, it is a beautiful piece. Altogether different from the beautiful words Rilke spun, but, nonetheless, art. I certainly can imagine what the statue might look like through my own perceptions of beauty, but the real draw is to imagine it through other people's eyes. I like to know what people think in regards to art, so I kept it around my antiquities and rare books shop for a while before transferring it here. It was fascinating to hear what people thought..."
Byakuya listened intently. After all, he had asked whether the sculpture led Vergil to the poem, or vice versa. Idle chatter was neither his interest, nor his forte. If the Kuchiki heir bothered to ask a question, then it went without saying that he was sincerely interested in the answer.
He kept his expression neutral when the handsome art dealer mentioned "the events of his life." So Vergil had lived an...interesting...life, to say the least. Hardly a revelation. What the canny entrepreneur found infinitely more intriguing was the statement that immediately followed.
"I believe that perfection is a weakness..."
Perfection. A...weakness?
But the intrinsic meaning, the very definition, of perfection was to be devoid of weakness.
Hmm...
Byakuya cleared his throat delicately. "Fascinating..." he began, speaking slowly and--as always--choosing his words with considerable care. "In regards to Rilke and the sculpture, certainly we are in accord. As for your account of perfection... Well, Mr.Sparda , my initial inclination might be to ask you to elucidate, or simply inquire, 'how so?'" The aristocratic brunet cocked his head slightly and quirked a sleek, black eyebrow. "However...first I would confirm that, by virtue of your statement 'Perfection is a weakness,' you believe that perfection--or a state thereof--does, indeed, exist. Or, that perfection is attainable?"
Pale lips twisted slightly into the hint of a wry smile. "...Attainable by us mundane mortal-folk, at any rate?"
Certainly an interesting conversation. One he had not been expecting, but welcomed all the same. Why was it that Byakuya Kuchiki was so curious as to know what he thought? Why did the Kuchiki heir care what he thought of perfection? Vergil had witnessed perfection as a child...a perfect childhood. He had also seen that perfection crumble under his feet. Of course, there had been nothing he could do about it. Only if's and hopes. But he'd rather not bring up such a dark topic during a delightfully intellectual conversation such as this. Well, at least, not a dark topic about himself.
Byakuya's life could be considered perfect. Well, if his wife hadn't died... Murdered in cold blood. That kill was the one to bring Vergil's father into the picture, and the FBI.
Never mind that the Three Powers, the Yakuza, Diablos, and Concavos, seemed to have the perfect relationship for a while. Interesting how each idea of perfection he thought of seemed to have ended abruptly and without warning.
Vergil looked over to the statue once more before continuing on.
"We've all seen perfection among mortals. I know that I have." He smiled, looking at Byakuya's steel-like eyes before turning away a moment later. "And I have seen it be snatched away. One moment, you think you're on top of the world and nothing could ever touch you. You are in a realm of flawlessness... But perfection is fleeting. I believe that mortals, as you say, can only be absolute for a short moment. And why?" Vergil chuckled.
"Hmm... Work is required to succeed in anything. Your definition of perfection, Mr. Kuchiki, requires one to do nothing, because you see the state of perfection as that of inherent flawlessness. I am inclined to disagree. Ex nihilo nihil fit. 'Nothing comes of nothing', after all."
Byakuya's eyes shot open, one eyebrow arching, well...archly. The lingua mater... He certainly didn't need Vergil to translate. The hotelier opened his mouth to reply, but then paused, drumming his long, slender fingers on the statue's podium as he contemplated exactly what to say.
"Indeed," he intoned, after a moment of thought, "Though I don't actually recall giving you my personal definition of perfection, Mr. Sparda. Nor is it a subject I care to delve into any further...at this particular moment in time." Byakuya nodded subtly at the door that divided the gallery from Gates of Dis' large, main salon. "It sounds as though the auction has just drawn to a close. I am sure that you have many patrons to meet and greet. Likewise, it is imperative that I return to work before anon..."
"However, before we part ways..." he continued, not wishing to end his time with the his new acquaintance by sounding brusque. The Kuchiki heir was very interested in continuing this conversation with Vergil; preferably in the near future. "You mentioned an antiquities and rare books store? I am a...consummate bibliophile. For example, I have always enjoyed Caesar's war journals and the published communiques between himself and friends, family, allies...and enemies. And recently, I had the good fortune to come across untranslated versions that require the application of Caesar's personal cipher in order to read."
Byakuya's attention was briefly drawn away as a rather loud group of women entered the gallery, the lot of them chirping and chattering about how so-and-so bought this-and-that. Yes, it was, unfortunately, time for him to make a strategic exit.
"Anyway," he drawled, his eyes finding and holding Vergil's gaze once more. "I have heard...through certain circles...that there are a few of Caesar's original letters and manuscripts in private possession..."
In other words, did the young antiquarian happen to have anything as rare, valuable, and desirable as that for sale at his book store?
Vergil smiled and nodded. Of course, Byakuya had not yet divulged his personal definition, but the white-haired antiquarian had a feeling he knew what it meant. Kuchiki seemed like one of those people who strove to be perfect, in every essence of the word. But then again, he could be wrong. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last.
It was at that time that Vergil happened to notice what caught the Kuchiki heir's attention: the throngs of people getting ready to come out of the main hall. It seemed his enjoyable time with the aristocratic brunet would come to a rather abrupt close. The katana wielder knew he would be hard-pressed to find an such engaging conversation after speaking to Byakuya for even the shortest time.
Vergil listened intently as the princely man inquired about Caesar and his letters. Unfortunately, he had never been that attracted to the old Roman ruler; he was more of a Renaissance man. Not to say that the Roman and Greek cultures didn't interest him. The Roman poet Virgil was his namesake, after all. At any rate, to gain such a friend as Byakuya Kuchiki would be a nice thing, meaning that, come hell or high water, he should have something to impress the man with.
"Ah, Caesar. Yes, I've heard of his letters and such as well. I do have many old tomes and novels dating from various time periods. I'm sure I must have something of that nature stored somewhere. If not, I could certainly find it. I am quite good at procuring rare artifacts." Vergil looked over to the gaggle of women who were positively squeaky in nature. He chuckled, knowing how Byakuya would like to be as far away from them as possible. If it were not his duty to stick around, he might follow the man to continue their conversation.
"Yes, it would seem the auction has ended. You must get back to work, and I must schmooze with the clients. I also have a potential buyer for 'Apollo,' here, coming to meet me later." The store owner sighed, looking over at smooth, white sculpture. "It will be sad to part with it, if the deal goes through..." Vergil gazed back at Byakuya, crossing in arms, his lips locked in a pleasant smile.
"If you'd like to escape the masses, there is an exit down the hall that leads out the back of the building. Nobody goes down there unless they know where they're going. Luckily for you, that isn't many people. Though, I do hope we can continue this conversation sometime in the near future."
"Something of that nature stored somewhere."
Goodness. Vergil certainly was humble. Then again, such nonchalance might just be part of his professional demeanor. Either way, Byakuya did not doubt for an instant that the striking antiquarian was exceptionally good at his job. The fact that he had somehow procured The Archaic Torso of Apollo was proof in and of itself. The Kuchiki heir was almost sure that the ancient sculpture, which dated back to the fifth century B.C., had indeed been housed in the Louvre only a few years ago...
Speaking of said sculpture... Now would be an appropriate time for Byakuya to mention his interest in the classic piece, especially considering there was a potential buyer coming by that very afternoon. But, the sly brunet did no such thing. Not in an obvious fashion or in layman's terms, by any rate. The Kuchiki scion was man of great subtlety. He'd already shown considerable interest in the marble torso. Likewise, he'd admitted his fascination with Rilke's poem. This timeless torso was the muse for that poem.
Of course, Byakuya was interested in this representation of Apollo. In fact, he had already made up his mind to purchase it. Now, if Vergil was even half as good a salesman as he was a curator, he would steer the "potential buyer" to another classic, famous, or coveted work of art and thus make two collectors happy...while making twice the profit.
The white-haired art dealer had a princely air about him, and did not seem the type to push a sale simply to turn a profit. Byakuya certainly could say, "I will buy Apollo's torso," and that would be that. But, after their intriguing conversation, he was inclined to see what the young Mr. Sparda would do. At the very least, Vergil hoped to continue their conversation. Of course, the Gates of Dis' owner probably said such things to all his best clients, but, at least with the Kuchiki heir, he was being genuine. Byakuya knew without a shadow of a doubt when he was being schmoozed. Had Vergil's tone been anything of the sort, the savvy scion would have left immediately.
"Thank you," he said simply. "This exchange has been both serendipitous and refreshing. I should very much like to peruse whatever treasures you have 'stored away' at your bookshop. Hopefully, it will not be too long before my schedule grants me another afternoon of recess."
The artful collector took another sidelong glance at the weathered sculpture before looking back at Vergil and offering his hand in parting."Good luck with your endeavors, Mr. Sparda. For your sake, I hope that 'Apollo' eventually finds a home where it does not pain you so to lose him."
With that, the great and noble Kuchiki took his leave.
Characters: Byakuya Kuchiki (
gogochan), Vergil Sparda (
gogodgene)
Timeline: April 3, 1950
Rating: PG
Summary: Two princely men meet for the first time, and find themselves discussing art, poetry, and the concept of perfection.
Authors' Note: A photo of the ancient sculpture of 'Apollo's torso' can be found here.
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Byakuya was pleased with his purchase. More than pleased, actually. The antique Japanese calligraphy set was remarkably similar to one that his grandfather had once treasured. After working his way through the finest of schools, and enduring a near-endless array of private tutors, the Kuchiki scion's penmanship could only be described as...exquisite. Had he been raised in Japan, Byakuya would surely be adept at shodo as well...if one could consider oneself "adept" at something that is as much a form of art as it is a medium for communication.
The solemn, gray-eyed heir had studied calligraphy as a youth, but only for a short while. Forget the ancient lineage and noble blood (both Japanese and European), to a haughty, energetic, and intensely competitive boy, calligraphy could never be as exciting a discipline as kendo, fencing, or even archery. Suffice to say that adolescent Byakuya lacked both the interest and the patience to learn and perfect more than rudimentary or simple shodo.
Adult Byakuya, however, had patience to spare. After learning how to focus and channel his innate intensity--as befitting a proper Kuchiki--the heir found that it took more than physical exertion, and exhaustion, to quiet and soothe his mind. In recent years, the idea of practicing calligraphy had become more and more appealing. First, shodo catered to his appreciation for both art and letters. Beyond that, it was a way for the blue-blooded brunet to connect with his Japanese heritage; on his terms, on his own time, and--most importantly--without incurring any hostility, discrimination, or negative publicity. Though Byakuya was fiercely proud of his ancestry, the war had taught him to be grateful that the Kuchikis were so thoroughly ensconced in the "American aristocracy." The power and prestige they'd come to wield in New World politics and society had played a huge factor in preserving the Kuchikis' Old World wealth.
Back to the present... While the Kuchiki clan's determined, young leader had finally developed both the patience and the interest to learn calligraphy, what he now lacked was time. Manging the family fortune and its wide array of assets, on top of pursuing his own entrepreneurial goals, didn't grant Byakuya much opportunity to explore new hobbies. Still...at the very least, the beautiful, antique calligraphy set, would be a welcome addition to his home office. The set was a work of art in itself. The intricately carved and delicately painted lacquered box could hold any number of treasures, though the fact that tools within had been well used and well cared for made them...priceless.
Best of all, Byakuya had beaten several passionate bidders to claim this prize. At heart, the aloof and calculating brunet was still intensely competitive. That was unlikely to change--now or ever. The stoic scion enjoyed auctions. They were just as thrilling as a high-stakes horse race, but offered much more control.
Of course, unlike the Preakness or the Derby, winning at an auction meant spending money rather than making it. Not that Byakuya had a problem with that. He'd much rather spend his money on an highly desired item of great value and/or renown than spend it on a horse that may or may not reward him with more...money.
The dapper hotelier wasn't a compulsive, or impulsive, buyer, and was as analytical and shrewd at auctions as he was with the any major purchase. And when Byakuya made up his mind to bid, he did so with a calm, concentrated, and--some say--chilling confidence. Only a self-centered dandy or a complete fool would fail to catch that subtle display of power and entitlement. Bidding against the quietly earnest Kuchiki meant that you were either going to be out-bid, or you were going to spend a small fortune to best him.
While the auctioneer moved on to the next lot, Byakuya slipped quietly from his seat, intent on leaving before the auction's official end--and thus escaping the "social hour" that would inevitably follow. It took less time than he expected to settle his debt, and while the hotelier had been absent from work longer than expected, he found himself somewhat loath to leave. Perhaps this stemmed from the overachieving heir's reluctance to take much "personal time" during the work week (or weekend, for that matter). Or, maybe this was the first time in a while that Byakuya could remember having any real fun.
Perhaps it was a bit of both.
In any case, the willowy brunet--part multi-millionaire aristocrat, part shrewd businessman--soon found himself strolling through the art gallery adjacent to Gates of Dis. The gallery was connected to the auction house, yet had its own distinct personality. It was, as always, exceptionally well-curated, with a range of artworks in a variety of mediums available for purchase. At first glance, there were several that looked interesting, including a rather plain, but nonetheless intriguing, marble torso.
Truth be told, Byakuya had been in the market for something new with which to liven up his office at The Senbonzakura. Something...different. No, make that something remarkable. Something unusual, introspective, and thought-provoking... Something that would continue to catch his eye, even if he were to look upon it every single day.
Vergil prided himself on his auction house: the Gates of Dis. It was beautiful, to put it simply, and quite popular despite it being smaller than its main competitors. Gates of Dis' popularity was most likely due to the fact that the treasures he and the Diablos obtained were impressive, to say the least. With such valuable items up for auction, Vergil knew that he would immediately attract the ones who had money to spare, and then some. With Gates of Dis going as strongly as it was, the white-haired commandante knew the Diablos would be well taken care of.
Sometimes, the audience and patrons became quite spirited, with some bidding wars taking a while to complete. Most of the time, Vergil sat in on those fiery battles of money versus more money, but he was also content to look after the gallery rather than be in the crowd. At least in the gallery, it was quiet, and he could get a moment to himself before congratulating the big spenders of the auction and thanking them for their patronage.
Which was currently what the katana wielder had his mind set on doing.
During a break in the battle of currency, Vergil had sought out the auctioneer, an elderly gentleman named Thomas (a man who had been with the Diablos leader ever since he had opened Dis to the public), to see how they were doing. As usual, it had all going swimmingly, and they were turning quite a profit. This was also one of those times where Thomas spoke adamantly about Gate of Dis' biggest contributor of the evening. Well, the graying man mostly talked about the big spender's battle with a certain brunet; someone Thomas hadn't recognized until all was said and done. Much to Vergil's surprise, the fierce competitor had turned out to be a very well known man: Mr. Byakuya Kuchiki. A man the white-haired gangster knew all too well, just from the papers alone. He had been the one caught up some years ago in that battle between the three biggest mob families on the east coast--the American aristocrat and his poor, dead wife.
If Mr. Kuchiki had chosen to grace Vergil's halls with his presence, the white-haired proprietor figured he would be more interesting to talk to than the auction's biggest patron. Thankfully, Thomas pointed him in the direction of the gallery, where Mr. Kuchiki had last been seen. A serene place in which to converse, if nothing else.
He found the brunet observing one of the many marble statues in the gallery, and found himself surprised that, for a man who had accomplished so much, Byakuya Kuchiki still appeared so young. No...ageless. He had always been fascinated by the man, and to see him in the flesh was a pleasant shock. A slight smile formed on his lips, as he finally stopped by the brunet's side.
"Mr. Kuchiki, I presume?" Vergil held out his hand to offer a friendly shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Vergil Sparda. I heard you had quite the battle today to gain ownership of a calligraphy set."
Byakuya turned slowly, cocking his head as he took in the smooth, cultured voice and visage to match. Well, well. So this was Vergil Sparda. A surprise, to be sure, and a pleasant one at that. The multi-millionaire knew the auction house's proprietor by name and reputation, but hadn't imagined that the man would be so young. Or youthful. Perhaps he was older than he looked. Appearances could be deceiving and all that...
"Indeed," Byakuya replied, turning to face Vergil fully before taking his hand in a firm, businesslike grip. "And the pleasure is all mine." During the handshake, the heir's sharp gray eyes swept discreetly over the man before him, taking particular interest in the luminosity of both his sparkling blue eyes and shining opalescent hair. The color of his eyes was enhanced by a vibrant, exquisitely-tailored coat of a hue that could only be described as "royal blue." Naturally, the art dealer's classically chiseled features weren't lost on Byakuya either. Handsome, to be sure. Striking, even...
The hotelier had been looking for something remarkable, but certainly hadn't expected that something to be someone.
"The calligraphy set..." he continued, after releasing Vergil's warm, yet slightly rough and callused, hand. How interesting for this dapper businessman to have hands that spoke of rigorous activity. Maybe Vergil was also an artist. A sculptor, perhaps... At any rate, roughened hands did not go part and parcel with the man's smooth voice, richly embroidered clothes, and majestic bearing. There was obviously more to Vergil Sparda than met the eye.
"...Yes. I am quite pleased with that acquisition." Byakuya arched one sleek eyebrow. "Though I would hardly call that a 'battle.' A 'skirmish,' perhaps." The elegant heir treated the white-haired art dealer to the slightest hint of a smile. "I simply had to have it. After that...there was no contest."
Vergil certainly didn't miss the way Byakuya's eyes had scanned over his form, which was, of course, a welcome surprise. Although, as to whether he liked what he saw was a mystery. The man's face remained as stoic as ever, which the blade wielder minded not. The Kuchiki heir reminded him most of one of the beautiful statues adorning his halls. Although, thankfully, as serene as he was, Byakuya's face did not forever hold the same expression.
Vergil knew that he was pleased with what he saw in the Kuchiki, at any rate.
The almost-albino man allowed himself a smirk as the brunet before him regarded his war with the other bidders nothing more than a skirmish. Most times, Vergil would consider such a statement to be sheer egotism, but there was something about Byakuya that made him believe it. The elder Sparda twin knew a strong man when he saw him, and the Kuchiki "prince"--even though he did not look like a threat--simply radiated an indomitable prowess. Very interesting indeed. He had never known an invincible spirit outside of his own family. His mother, his father; even Dante...
"Of course. How foolish of me to exaggerate such a thing. You are Byakuya Kuchiki; something of this matter should be nothing more than a trifle, hmm?" In a battle of finances, Vergil doubted there were many people in the world that could ever beat the prince Kuchiki. The katana master looked to the statue Byakuya had been observing moments earlier, recognizing it as the headless, legless torso that his uncultured brother had called "junk."
"You know of this piece, correct? It's become a favorite of mine, recently. 'And yet his torso is suffused with brilliance from the inside, like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low, gleams in all its power.'"
Oh, my...
Rilke.
Byakuya's eyes widened for a brief moment, and then narrowed slightly. He cocked his head to glance at the exquisite marble statue. "Otherwise the curved breast could not dazzle you so..." the heir intoned slowly, almost reverently, as his eyes found their way back to Vergil's.
"One could describe my knowledge of that poem as bordering on abstruse." Though Byakuya's gaze was sharp, almost piercing, his aristocratic features maintained their dispassionate mask. Again, the Kuchiki heir was not boasting. That particular poem held a deep, personal significance for him.
"I am familiar with this sculpture," Byakuya continued, turning once again toward the artwork in question. "The Archaic Torso of Apollo, I presume? Amazing. I thought that it was housed in the Louvre. Apparently not..."
Amazing, indeed. The willowy brunet began to appraise the white marble torso in earnest. "The search for perfection. The desire to know...to reach...to possess the sublime. Hmm ..." Pale gray eyes--cold as ice and quick as mercury--trailed over the headless, armless, legless form, pausing at the uniquely male area where a smile ran through the placid hips down to the tapered loins. Or, rather, where the dark center where procreation flared would be, were this not an expression of the unattainable.
"...An exceptional work of art," the Kuchiki drawled in his deep monotone after studying the torso for several long moments. "Classically beautiful, yet timeless. A remarkable depiction of the human form. But, no..." A flash of understanding made the brunet's flinty eyes nearly sparkle. "Not human. Apollo's torso. The body of a god..." Byakuya pursed his lips, tapping one long, flawless finger against the angled contour of his jaw. "Rather, this is the sculptor's interpretation of antiquity's epitome of masculine beauty, the Greek Dues Sol...as so depicted by Rilke."
The Kuchiki inspected the carefully carved marble yet again. Was this the perfect male form? ...Of course not. Such a declaration was impossible without the legendary head with eyes like ripening fruit...and so on. Besides, the concept of "perfection" was entirely personal--subject to the eye of the beholder... Byakuya could imagine Apollo's face and features, hands and arms... But how would his vision compare to, say, Gates of Dis' polished, poised proprietor?
Define "perfection." ...Now that could make for a truly fascinating philosophical discussion.
"You referred to this piece as one of your favorites," Byakuya murmured. "I feel likewise about the poem. Indeed it is a favorite, though I do both it and Rilke a grave injustice by trying to claim it in such a pedestrian way. The poem transcends...in the same manner as its subject matter. It is art. And I am but an art collector..." Said collector--a man of both ancient and noble lineage, whose ancestors claimed to have descended from the gods--let his voice trail off before sighing softly.
"And you are an art dealer..." the hotelier said at last. "Apollo's" torso was now between them, prompting Byakuya to compare the soft white glow of the weathered marble with the pure, alpine white of Vergil's hair. It was almost amusing how the bright white of the man's hair made the precious stone appear somewhat dull.
Hmm... Hair devoid of pigment. Skin so fair that it was nearly translucent. Elongated neck and well-defined features. ...And those brilliant blue eyes. It was likely that Vergil was of Norse descent. A modern day wichingi. Why, he could have been a poster boy for the Aryan campaign. The perfect example of...perfection.
...In the eyes of certain beholders. Such as...half of Europe.
Perish the thought. Byakuya did not want to associate the urbane art dealer with the horrors of the Third Reich. He blinked once, exorcised the haunting thought from his mind, and continued his query. "Was it your appreciation of this sculpture that drew you to Rilke's poem?"
It was like a breath of fresh air to have an intellectual conversation that wasn't just a means of competing with someone. Even then, making small talk that actually used more than two percent of his brain power was a chance that didn't occur too often. He had met one too many "collectors" in these halls to know that most people could only pretend to know what they were talking about. They would study the bare facts about art in general just to make haughty conversation at dinner parties with other blow-hards. It had proven to Vergil that just because someone was wealthy did not mean that he or she was...educated.
Byakuya was slowly rising on the list of people he respected. Not that he had been expecting much else from the Kuchiki, but it was still a nice, reaffirming thought. The serene scion certainly seemed to know his way around the cultured workings of art, describing and breaking down the artistic meaning in the torso before them. It was quite...inspiring. So much so, that a pleased grin continued to grace his features throughout the entire time that the stoic brunet praised Apollo's torso. There was certainly much to say about a perfect body, but Vergil was one who could appreciate stunning "gray matter" over a flawless physical frame.
"I cannot say how I was drawn to this poem in the first place. Truly, I first read it as a child from a book of poetry in my mother's study. Of course, I knew nothing when it came to the poem's true meaning, but after years of watching the events of my life unfold... I believe that perfection is a weakness, in any case." Everything in his life had been built around the damnable word, and the foundations of that faux-flawless life had crumbled as easily as they were built. Vergil had learned quickly that to be perfect was a death-sentence. The only absolute truth in his life was strength: strength in numbers, strength in knowledge, moral strength, strength in resolve, and strength in body. Therefore, he was driven to master every attribute of strength.
"As for the torso, it is a beautiful piece. Altogether different from the beautiful words Rilke spun, but, nonetheless, art. I certainly can imagine what the statue might look like through my own perceptions of beauty, but the real draw is to imagine it through other people's eyes. I like to know what people think in regards to art, so I kept it around my antiquities and rare books shop for a while before transferring it here. It was fascinating to hear what people thought..."
Byakuya listened intently. After all, he had asked whether the sculpture led Vergil to the poem, or vice versa. Idle chatter was neither his interest, nor his forte. If the Kuchiki heir bothered to ask a question, then it went without saying that he was sincerely interested in the answer.
He kept his expression neutral when the handsome art dealer mentioned "the events of his life." So Vergil had lived an...interesting...life, to say the least. Hardly a revelation. What the canny entrepreneur found infinitely more intriguing was the statement that immediately followed.
"I believe that perfection is a weakness..."
Perfection. A...weakness?
But the intrinsic meaning, the very definition, of perfection was to be devoid of weakness.
Hmm...
Byakuya cleared his throat delicately. "Fascinating..." he began, speaking slowly and--as always--choosing his words with considerable care. "In regards to Rilke and the sculpture, certainly we are in accord. As for your account of perfection... Well, Mr.Sparda , my initial inclination might be to ask you to elucidate, or simply inquire, 'how so?'" The aristocratic brunet cocked his head slightly and quirked a sleek, black eyebrow. "However...first I would confirm that, by virtue of your statement 'Perfection is a weakness,' you believe that perfection--or a state thereof--does, indeed, exist. Or, that perfection is attainable?"
Pale lips twisted slightly into the hint of a wry smile. "...Attainable by us mundane mortal-folk, at any rate?"
Certainly an interesting conversation. One he had not been expecting, but welcomed all the same. Why was it that Byakuya Kuchiki was so curious as to know what he thought? Why did the Kuchiki heir care what he thought of perfection? Vergil had witnessed perfection as a child...a perfect childhood. He had also seen that perfection crumble under his feet. Of course, there had been nothing he could do about it. Only if's and hopes. But he'd rather not bring up such a dark topic during a delightfully intellectual conversation such as this. Well, at least, not a dark topic about himself.
Byakuya's life could be considered perfect. Well, if his wife hadn't died... Murdered in cold blood. That kill was the one to bring Vergil's father into the picture, and the FBI.
Never mind that the Three Powers, the Yakuza, Diablos, and Concavos, seemed to have the perfect relationship for a while. Interesting how each idea of perfection he thought of seemed to have ended abruptly and without warning.
Vergil looked over to the statue once more before continuing on.
"We've all seen perfection among mortals. I know that I have." He smiled, looking at Byakuya's steel-like eyes before turning away a moment later. "And I have seen it be snatched away. One moment, you think you're on top of the world and nothing could ever touch you. You are in a realm of flawlessness... But perfection is fleeting. I believe that mortals, as you say, can only be absolute for a short moment. And why?" Vergil chuckled.
"Hmm... Work is required to succeed in anything. Your definition of perfection, Mr. Kuchiki, requires one to do nothing, because you see the state of perfection as that of inherent flawlessness. I am inclined to disagree. Ex nihilo nihil fit. 'Nothing comes of nothing', after all."
Byakuya's eyes shot open, one eyebrow arching, well...archly. The lingua mater... He certainly didn't need Vergil to translate. The hotelier opened his mouth to reply, but then paused, drumming his long, slender fingers on the statue's podium as he contemplated exactly what to say.
"Indeed," he intoned, after a moment of thought, "Though I don't actually recall giving you my personal definition of perfection, Mr. Sparda. Nor is it a subject I care to delve into any further...at this particular moment in time." Byakuya nodded subtly at the door that divided the gallery from Gates of Dis' large, main salon. "It sounds as though the auction has just drawn to a close. I am sure that you have many patrons to meet and greet. Likewise, it is imperative that I return to work before anon..."
"However, before we part ways..." he continued, not wishing to end his time with the his new acquaintance by sounding brusque. The Kuchiki heir was very interested in continuing this conversation with Vergil; preferably in the near future. "You mentioned an antiquities and rare books store? I am a...consummate bibliophile. For example, I have always enjoyed Caesar's war journals and the published communiques between himself and friends, family, allies...and enemies. And recently, I had the good fortune to come across untranslated versions that require the application of Caesar's personal cipher in order to read."
Byakuya's attention was briefly drawn away as a rather loud group of women entered the gallery, the lot of them chirping and chattering about how so-and-so bought this-and-that. Yes, it was, unfortunately, time for him to make a strategic exit.
"Anyway," he drawled, his eyes finding and holding Vergil's gaze once more. "I have heard...through certain circles...that there are a few of Caesar's original letters and manuscripts in private possession..."
In other words, did the young antiquarian happen to have anything as rare, valuable, and desirable as that for sale at his book store?
Vergil smiled and nodded. Of course, Byakuya had not yet divulged his personal definition, but the white-haired antiquarian had a feeling he knew what it meant. Kuchiki seemed like one of those people who strove to be perfect, in every essence of the word. But then again, he could be wrong. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last.
It was at that time that Vergil happened to notice what caught the Kuchiki heir's attention: the throngs of people getting ready to come out of the main hall. It seemed his enjoyable time with the aristocratic brunet would come to a rather abrupt close. The katana wielder knew he would be hard-pressed to find an such engaging conversation after speaking to Byakuya for even the shortest time.
Vergil listened intently as the princely man inquired about Caesar and his letters. Unfortunately, he had never been that attracted to the old Roman ruler; he was more of a Renaissance man. Not to say that the Roman and Greek cultures didn't interest him. The Roman poet Virgil was his namesake, after all. At any rate, to gain such a friend as Byakuya Kuchiki would be a nice thing, meaning that, come hell or high water, he should have something to impress the man with.
"Ah, Caesar. Yes, I've heard of his letters and such as well. I do have many old tomes and novels dating from various time periods. I'm sure I must have something of that nature stored somewhere. If not, I could certainly find it. I am quite good at procuring rare artifacts." Vergil looked over to the gaggle of women who were positively squeaky in nature. He chuckled, knowing how Byakuya would like to be as far away from them as possible. If it were not his duty to stick around, he might follow the man to continue their conversation.
"Yes, it would seem the auction has ended. You must get back to work, and I must schmooze with the clients. I also have a potential buyer for 'Apollo,' here, coming to meet me later." The store owner sighed, looking over at smooth, white sculpture. "It will be sad to part with it, if the deal goes through..." Vergil gazed back at Byakuya, crossing in arms, his lips locked in a pleasant smile.
"If you'd like to escape the masses, there is an exit down the hall that leads out the back of the building. Nobody goes down there unless they know where they're going. Luckily for you, that isn't many people. Though, I do hope we can continue this conversation sometime in the near future."
"Something of that nature stored somewhere."
Goodness. Vergil certainly was humble. Then again, such nonchalance might just be part of his professional demeanor. Either way, Byakuya did not doubt for an instant that the striking antiquarian was exceptionally good at his job. The fact that he had somehow procured The Archaic Torso of Apollo was proof in and of itself. The Kuchiki heir was almost sure that the ancient sculpture, which dated back to the fifth century B.C., had indeed been housed in the Louvre only a few years ago...
Speaking of said sculpture... Now would be an appropriate time for Byakuya to mention his interest in the classic piece, especially considering there was a potential buyer coming by that very afternoon. But, the sly brunet did no such thing. Not in an obvious fashion or in layman's terms, by any rate. The Kuchiki scion was man of great subtlety. He'd already shown considerable interest in the marble torso. Likewise, he'd admitted his fascination with Rilke's poem. This timeless torso was the muse for that poem.
Of course, Byakuya was interested in this representation of Apollo. In fact, he had already made up his mind to purchase it. Now, if Vergil was even half as good a salesman as he was a curator, he would steer the "potential buyer" to another classic, famous, or coveted work of art and thus make two collectors happy...while making twice the profit.
The white-haired art dealer had a princely air about him, and did not seem the type to push a sale simply to turn a profit. Byakuya certainly could say, "I will buy Apollo's torso," and that would be that. But, after their intriguing conversation, he was inclined to see what the young Mr. Sparda would do. At the very least, Vergil hoped to continue their conversation. Of course, the Gates of Dis' owner probably said such things to all his best clients, but, at least with the Kuchiki heir, he was being genuine. Byakuya knew without a shadow of a doubt when he was being schmoozed. Had Vergil's tone been anything of the sort, the savvy scion would have left immediately.
"Thank you," he said simply. "This exchange has been both serendipitous and refreshing. I should very much like to peruse whatever treasures you have 'stored away' at your bookshop. Hopefully, it will not be too long before my schedule grants me another afternoon of recess."
The artful collector took another sidelong glance at the weathered sculpture before looking back at Vergil and offering his hand in parting."Good luck with your endeavors, Mr. Sparda. For your sake, I hope that 'Apollo' eventually finds a home where it does not pain you so to lose him."
With that, the great and noble Kuchiki took his leave.