I Shall Roam the Summer Fields, Chapter 4 [Bleach]
Title: I Shall Roam the Summer Fields ( Master Post)
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Ensemble, and while this is primarily gen, a number of pairings (mostly but not entirely het) figure in the background. See master post if you need more details.
Word Count: Novel-length overall, c. 2,900 in this chapter.
Rating: R, mostly for language. Also, see warnings.
Warnings/Possible Triggers: Character death. Mentions and some description of pregnancy complications and miscarriage/stillbirth.
Notes: This story is an AU that takes place ten years after Chapter 422, i.e. the end of the Deicide arc. The story diverges from canon just after that last battle in terms of the fates of several major characters (for good or for ill). Some of the results of that divergence will be seen in this chapter.
Byakuya sat in a safe corner, watching the goings-on with all the serenity of a man who knew that the property damage in progress was happening in someone else's division.
"Next time you pull a stunt like this, I'll rip your fucking head off," Zaraki informed him.
"If you wish to prevent similar incidents from happening in the future, I suggest you maintain better control over your vice-captain." Byakuya watched calmly as Yachiru maintained her stance on Madarame-taichou's head despite his attempts to swat her off. She really was getting too big for such antics--Madarame looked to be in considerable pain. "If such a thing is possible."
Byakuya held out his cup, and Zaraki refilled it civilly enough. Byakuya's estimation of the man had gone up, albeit slightly, when he had demonstrated the good sense not to slam back premium sake the way one might swill rotgut. He might drink in unspeakable quantity, but he was at least somewhat aware of quality. So, the offer of two kegs from his private stock had been made in some degree of confidence that they would not be entirely wasted.
"Too bad your sis couldn't talk Ichigo into coming back," Zaraki said, tongue flicking at the corner of his mouth either to catch a stray drop of sake or an imagined trickle of blood.
"These things are sent to try us." And really, he had found the prospect of Kurosaki's return quite trying. While it would have been nice to have the extra support, it was probably just as well that particular cannon hadn't been cut loose again. Still, he had hoped that the visit to her friend would be good for Rukia; she had been under some strain of late.
If anything, she looked more pensive than before, no doubt due to her failure. She had come in with Renji, but had soon faded back to join one of the quieter groups in the room, while Renji had joined the group surrounding the newly returned Tanaka. Tanaka kept laughing and showing off his undamaged throat, teasing the two men who had reported seeing him cut down. His wrist was now properly splinted. It had been an easy set, according to Kotetsu-fukutaichou.
Odd, that. Tanaka claimed he had hit his head and broken his wrist falling to avoid the blow that two people said had killed him. Kotetsu theorized that the blow to the head might have given him temporary amnesia, causing him to lose track of the five days that had passed since his 'death.'
Although, after five days, the wrist would not have been an 'easy set,' would it? Perhaps the blow to the head (Tanaka had eventually admitted, somewhat shamefaced, that maybe he hadn't ducked quite as well as he thought) had muddied his memory of when one thing happened relative to the other. In any event, it was a mess, and Byakuya did not like messes.
Zaraki grumbled. "Speakin' of stuff that's sent to try us, Yachiru's got a thing for that pipsqueak Hitsugaya. Even made a Tanabata wish about it."
"Really," Byakuya drawled. That development could be unfortunate on several counts. He craned his head, but saw no sign of the young captain. "Is he here?"
"Pfft. That surly little sack o' mope? At a shindig like this? Whadda you think?" Zaraki nodded towards the center of the room. Matsumoto was already gleefully waging war against sobriety, holding court along with Kyouraku at the largest table in the room. She laughed long and loud at something before reaching out with her cane to hook an already inebriated Kira into her circle of ever-increasing impairment. "She said she tried to talk him into coming along, but he was an asshole about it, so she's going to make sure he gets to deal with her being hungover all day tomorrow."
Byakuya forebore from comment in the face of such stunning logic. He had some degree of sympathy for Hitsugaya, but could well understand why some others might find him less than tolerable of late.
"I keep meaning to ask about your survivor... what was his name again? Aramaki?"
"Huh? Aramaki? Who--oh, yeah. Maki-maki. He's over there. Y'think the bastard would be happier he's alive to fight another day. Dunno what the hell's wrong with him." Zaraki nodded towards one side of the room, setting the bells in his hair a-jingle. A man stood in the middle of a cluster of rowdily drunk and cheerfully semi-conscious Eleventh Division members, distinguished from them by a countenance that matched the droop of his moustache.
"I assume he doesn't remember what happened?" Byakuya asked. He picked up his drink to take a sip, nearly spilling a few drops as the cup was more full than he had expected. Zaraki must have topped it off again.
"Nope. Not yet." Zaraki grinned in a manner that indicated there would be some encouragement to remember forthcoming.
A flash of red caught his attention. Renji had at some point left Tanaka and re-joined Rukia. He leaned down to whisper something to her, then stumbled over to Aramaki's group. He held up a squarish bottle half-full of some sort of brown liquor as he shouted over the ongoing conversation.
Zaraki's eye narrowed. "What's that? Something about the Inoue girl?"
Byakuya shrugged and took another sip. He was feeling quite relaxed, despite the chaos surrounding him. Renji was no doubt catching his old friends up on some inconsequential gossip from the living world.
"Nii-sama! There you are!" Rukia walked up to them, Madarame in tow. Yachiru had given up torturing him and was now tagging along after Renji.
"Keepin' fancy company these days, taichou," Madarame said to Zaraki.
"What, him?" Zaraki jerked a thumb towards Byakuya. "The man brought the good stuff. Damn straight I'm stickin' nearby."
Byakuya didn't comment. He did, however, take another sip, once more surprised by a brim-full cup. Again, he hadn't noticed the refill. That was problematic. And besides, something of this quality did not deserve to be consumed as inattentively as he would water.
Madarame turned his attention to Byakuya. "Anyway, your sister here says she's got some news, and she wanted to tell me and Zaraki-taichou."
"You too, of course, nii-sama." Rukia was smiling in a way he hadn't seen in a long time. She looked so much like her sister when she did that. "You remember Inoue Ori--"
They turned their heads in unison at a collective shout from Aramaki's group. Ayasegawa jammed both hands up in the air, laughing triumphantly.
Madarame craned his neck, straining to hear what the group was saying. "What the hell's all that about?"
"Inoue--well, it's Ishida, now--Orihime. She--"
"She married that Quincy? Damn--and here I thought she and Ichigo had something nice going on," Madarame said. He shrugged. "But yeah, I guess I can kinda see that."
Rukia glared at him, and Byakuya rather suspected if he had not been there to witness, she would have hit Madarame. "If you would just shut up, I'm trying to tell you that they're going to have a baby!"
She beamed at them, waiting for a reaction like the one still bubbling over in the group surrounding Aramaki.
Byakuya said nothing. There was nothing he could say. Why, he thought loudly to himself, should this matter to him? It didn't matter. At all.
Madarame looked confused, as if trying to figure out if Rukia's announcement was good news or bad.
Zaraki grunted with something that might have been approval. "Good for them. Good luck, too. They're gonna need it." He looked over to where his second-in-command was now sitting on Renji's shoulders, pulling on his hair and, from the sound of things, demanding to be taken along when he and Rukia went to visit in a couple of months.
She was really getting too old for that sort of thing, Byakuya thought as the surrounding conversation faded into the background. Yachiru's merry laughter pealed out over the drunken babble. How old was she again?
Oh. He'd never really thought about that before. "Old enough to--"
"--you think, nii-sama?"
Byakuya shook himself back to the present. Sake slopped over his hand, and Zaraki automatically re-topped things for him. "I... I'm sorry. I was distracted for a moment." He spoke carefully enough he knew he was more than a little drunk. How much sake had he had, anyway?
"Are you all right, nii-sama? You look--"
"I am fine." He didn't mean to curt, but he was. Zaraki raised an eyebrow at him as he stood up. "It has been a long day, and I think I have had more than enough to drink."
"Lightweight," Zaraki muttered.
"Also, I apologize, nii-sama. I didn't mean to cut you off earlier. You were saying...?"
"It was nothing, Rukia. No need to apologize." He had come so close to saying too much. His control was not what it should be. Memories bubbled too close to the surface. He shouldn't--couldn't--stay here any longer. "I think I will take my leave. Zaraki-taichou, thank you again for your hospitality."
He left as swiftly as politeness would allow. Or rather, he tried to. Unfortunately, he made the tactical error of passing too close to Matsumoto's table, and he nearly stumbled when she snagged him with her cane.
"Oi! Kuchiki-taichou, leavin' us already?" she asked. She was barely intelligible. To one side of her, Kira was resting his head on the table, happily unconscious. To the other, Kyouraku was either asleep or making a good pretense.
"I am attempting to," he snapped, or rather, slurred. He rubbed at his arm where she had caught him--she truly was a menace with that thing.
"Well, if you run into that bastard Shuuhei, you tell 'im I'm not talkin' to him, okay? Iba here--" She pointed across the table,"--me an' him saw Shuuhei go off with some chick in an Academy uniform."
Iba nodded, but it was unsteady enough that it made Byakuya mildly queasy. "Yeah. Real cutie, too," he said, ignoring Matsumoto's death glare.
"Goddamn cradle robber. And she had stupid hair, too," Matsumoto said, gathering her hair up on one side of her head.
Byakuya made a mental note to speak to the Academy faculty about the issue of students breaking curfew, but he wasn't sure if he would remember--or even care--in the morning. As for Hisagi, it was Madarame's duty to deal with any infractions on his part.
"Hey, if it helps, he seemed kinda freaked out to see her," Iba was saying, but Byakuya elected not to stay around to hear how the conversation ended.
He headed outside, and had made it past the borders of the Eleventh before he realized that he still had his drink in hand. Even after Matsumoto had jostled his arm, the sake cup was nearly half-full.
He knew he should tip the last of the sake out--he hadn't drunk anything close to this amount for a very long time--but before he could complete the thought, he emptied the cup in one swallow.
While he was aware that he would regret this later, he could not bring himself to care. He did recall the vow he made several decades back not to ever get deliberately drunk again, but that felt immaterial at present. At least he had left the party before he could say anything unseemly. It had, however, been a very close call.
Perhaps he would take the long way back to his manor. He was not walking as steadily as he should be, and it would not be proper to arrive back home in such a state. Or he could go back to the Sixth, he thought, pleased with himself at coming up with such a good idea in his present condition.
Yes, that would do. He took the next turn, fairly certain it would take him in the right direction. More or less. The lighting was poor and patchy enough (he ought to say someone to something about that, wait, that wasn't right...) he couldn't tell precisely where he was or where he was going. It might be a while, but no matter what condition he was still in when he got back (and the morning would no doubt be very unpleasant), he could trust Renji to be discreet. Reasonably discreet. And he would not ask questions. Probably.
But yes, that was a good plan. Except... Wait.
It took him much longer than it should have to figure out what was wrong with his clever plan.
Renji wasn't his vice-captain anymore, was what was wrong with his plan. He didn't even have a vice captain anymore.
He looked down at his cup, surprised to see it still in his hand and disappointed to find that it was empty.
There were so many things he didn't have any more.
He saw them in Rukia's smile. He heard them in--
Byakuya put his free hand over his eyes for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath, steadying himself, settling his thoughts and shoving the memories that had been shaken loose back deep and safe where they belonged.
He should never have had so much to drink. But still, he looked back down at the cup, as if it might have magically refilled itself once more while he was distracted.
It had not. What was gone would never come back.
In a bright burst of sober rage that pierced right through his willpower, he flung the cup out into the darkness. It hit a wall, closer by than he expected. It shattered satisfactorily, but the sound was matched by an equally loud, equally sharp yelp.
"Who's there!" A woman's voice, familiar, but out of place in a way that made him feel even less sober than he was. "Show yourself! That's an order!"
Byakuya took a few steps forward, until he was in a patch of light cast by one of the few lamps that had been lit in this area. He was not one to obey the orders of a stranger, but he was feeling mean enough to let whoever it was see just what kind of mistake she had made.
"Oh!" The voice was startled and apologetic, but also pleased. He heard footsteps scuffing towards him. "I'm so sorry, Kuchiki-taichou, I had no idea it was you! I mean obviously I didn't know it was you, but I wasn't expecting you to be walking through the Fifth Division so late."
Hinamori Momo stepped into his patch of light, wringing her hands together the way she always used to. "Something's wrong," she said in an incredible understatement, looking up and around. "Why is it so dark? There should be more lamps lit, shouldn't there?"
There should, but there weren't. Of course there weren't. Not in the Fifth Division. Not anymore.
"I'm sorry," he said, not sure why he was apologizing to her, of all people. "But I--why, yes, I believe I have had far, far too much to drink."
As was becoming increasingly obvious, as indicated by the present circumstances.
"I'm not sure how I ended up here anyway," she said, still looking around, still agitated. "And there doesn't seem to be anyone around. Do you know what's going on? There should be more people around, but I haven't seen anyone."
But he didn't feel as drunk as he had even a few minutes ago. Hinamori-fukutaichou was standing right there in front of him, and he had to manage the situation. Somehow.
"No, I do not know what is going on, but I think perhaps we should find out. Come along." He hesitated before taking her by the elbow, but he was able to get a solid enough grip to lead her towards his own division and the hell butterflies that waited there. "I think we may need help with this."
"Can you please let Shi--I mean, Hitsugaya-taichou know? I have no idea what's going on but the last time I--"
"I will get word out as soon as we get back to my division," he said, cutting her off as quickly as he could. He had sobered up rapidly in the last few seconds, but not enough to where he was willing to deal with this on his own.
Yes, he would get word out, but not to Hitsugaya. Nor to Renji, no matter how trustworthy he might be. It would not be wise.
Zaraki, then, he thought. Yes, that would do very well indeed. Zaraki was reliable enough, and other than Renji, was the closest thing he had to a friend. It was an odd thought, one he sometimes chose to examine as the curiosity it was.
"Thank you very much, Kuchiki-taichou. I just want to know what's going on, and how I got here."
"As do I," he said.
Having two men come back with no explanation five days after being reported dead had troubled him enough as it was. But that was nothing compared to having a woman come back from the dead after ten years.
Chapter Five: In which there is an impromptu strategy meeting at the Fourth Division.
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Ensemble, and while this is primarily gen, a number of pairings (mostly but not entirely het) figure in the background. See master post if you need more details.
Word Count: Novel-length overall, c. 2,900 in this chapter.
Rating: R, mostly for language. Also, see warnings.
Warnings/Possible Triggers: Character death. Mentions and some description of pregnancy complications and miscarriage/stillbirth.
Notes: This story is an AU that takes place ten years after Chapter 422, i.e. the end of the Deicide arc. The story diverges from canon just after that last battle in terms of the fates of several major characters (for good or for ill). Some of the results of that divergence will be seen in this chapter.
Byakuya sat in a safe corner, watching the goings-on with all the serenity of a man who knew that the property damage in progress was happening in someone else's division.
"Next time you pull a stunt like this, I'll rip your fucking head off," Zaraki informed him.
"If you wish to prevent similar incidents from happening in the future, I suggest you maintain better control over your vice-captain." Byakuya watched calmly as Yachiru maintained her stance on Madarame-taichou's head despite his attempts to swat her off. She really was getting too big for such antics--Madarame looked to be in considerable pain. "If such a thing is possible."
Byakuya held out his cup, and Zaraki refilled it civilly enough. Byakuya's estimation of the man had gone up, albeit slightly, when he had demonstrated the good sense not to slam back premium sake the way one might swill rotgut. He might drink in unspeakable quantity, but he was at least somewhat aware of quality. So, the offer of two kegs from his private stock had been made in some degree of confidence that they would not be entirely wasted.
"Too bad your sis couldn't talk Ichigo into coming back," Zaraki said, tongue flicking at the corner of his mouth either to catch a stray drop of sake or an imagined trickle of blood.
"These things are sent to try us." And really, he had found the prospect of Kurosaki's return quite trying. While it would have been nice to have the extra support, it was probably just as well that particular cannon hadn't been cut loose again. Still, he had hoped that the visit to her friend would be good for Rukia; she had been under some strain of late.
If anything, she looked more pensive than before, no doubt due to her failure. She had come in with Renji, but had soon faded back to join one of the quieter groups in the room, while Renji had joined the group surrounding the newly returned Tanaka. Tanaka kept laughing and showing off his undamaged throat, teasing the two men who had reported seeing him cut down. His wrist was now properly splinted. It had been an easy set, according to Kotetsu-fukutaichou.
Odd, that. Tanaka claimed he had hit his head and broken his wrist falling to avoid the blow that two people said had killed him. Kotetsu theorized that the blow to the head might have given him temporary amnesia, causing him to lose track of the five days that had passed since his 'death.'
Although, after five days, the wrist would not have been an 'easy set,' would it? Perhaps the blow to the head (Tanaka had eventually admitted, somewhat shamefaced, that maybe he hadn't ducked quite as well as he thought) had muddied his memory of when one thing happened relative to the other. In any event, it was a mess, and Byakuya did not like messes.
Zaraki grumbled. "Speakin' of stuff that's sent to try us, Yachiru's got a thing for that pipsqueak Hitsugaya. Even made a Tanabata wish about it."
"Really," Byakuya drawled. That development could be unfortunate on several counts. He craned his head, but saw no sign of the young captain. "Is he here?"
"Pfft. That surly little sack o' mope? At a shindig like this? Whadda you think?" Zaraki nodded towards the center of the room. Matsumoto was already gleefully waging war against sobriety, holding court along with Kyouraku at the largest table in the room. She laughed long and loud at something before reaching out with her cane to hook an already inebriated Kira into her circle of ever-increasing impairment. "She said she tried to talk him into coming along, but he was an asshole about it, so she's going to make sure he gets to deal with her being hungover all day tomorrow."
Byakuya forebore from comment in the face of such stunning logic. He had some degree of sympathy for Hitsugaya, but could well understand why some others might find him less than tolerable of late.
"I keep meaning to ask about your survivor... what was his name again? Aramaki?"
"Huh? Aramaki? Who--oh, yeah. Maki-maki. He's over there. Y'think the bastard would be happier he's alive to fight another day. Dunno what the hell's wrong with him." Zaraki nodded towards one side of the room, setting the bells in his hair a-jingle. A man stood in the middle of a cluster of rowdily drunk and cheerfully semi-conscious Eleventh Division members, distinguished from them by a countenance that matched the droop of his moustache.
"I assume he doesn't remember what happened?" Byakuya asked. He picked up his drink to take a sip, nearly spilling a few drops as the cup was more full than he had expected. Zaraki must have topped it off again.
"Nope. Not yet." Zaraki grinned in a manner that indicated there would be some encouragement to remember forthcoming.
A flash of red caught his attention. Renji had at some point left Tanaka and re-joined Rukia. He leaned down to whisper something to her, then stumbled over to Aramaki's group. He held up a squarish bottle half-full of some sort of brown liquor as he shouted over the ongoing conversation.
Zaraki's eye narrowed. "What's that? Something about the Inoue girl?"
Byakuya shrugged and took another sip. He was feeling quite relaxed, despite the chaos surrounding him. Renji was no doubt catching his old friends up on some inconsequential gossip from the living world.
"Nii-sama! There you are!" Rukia walked up to them, Madarame in tow. Yachiru had given up torturing him and was now tagging along after Renji.
"Keepin' fancy company these days, taichou," Madarame said to Zaraki.
"What, him?" Zaraki jerked a thumb towards Byakuya. "The man brought the good stuff. Damn straight I'm stickin' nearby."
Byakuya didn't comment. He did, however, take another sip, once more surprised by a brim-full cup. Again, he hadn't noticed the refill. That was problematic. And besides, something of this quality did not deserve to be consumed as inattentively as he would water.
Madarame turned his attention to Byakuya. "Anyway, your sister here says she's got some news, and she wanted to tell me and Zaraki-taichou."
"You too, of course, nii-sama." Rukia was smiling in a way he hadn't seen in a long time. She looked so much like her sister when she did that. "You remember Inoue Ori--"
They turned their heads in unison at a collective shout from Aramaki's group. Ayasegawa jammed both hands up in the air, laughing triumphantly.
Madarame craned his neck, straining to hear what the group was saying. "What the hell's all that about?"
"Inoue--well, it's Ishida, now--Orihime. She--"
"She married that Quincy? Damn--and here I thought she and Ichigo had something nice going on," Madarame said. He shrugged. "But yeah, I guess I can kinda see that."
Rukia glared at him, and Byakuya rather suspected if he had not been there to witness, she would have hit Madarame. "If you would just shut up, I'm trying to tell you that they're going to have a baby!"
She beamed at them, waiting for a reaction like the one still bubbling over in the group surrounding Aramaki.
Byakuya said nothing. There was nothing he could say. Why, he thought loudly to himself, should this matter to him? It didn't matter. At all.
Madarame looked confused, as if trying to figure out if Rukia's announcement was good news or bad.
Zaraki grunted with something that might have been approval. "Good for them. Good luck, too. They're gonna need it." He looked over to where his second-in-command was now sitting on Renji's shoulders, pulling on his hair and, from the sound of things, demanding to be taken along when he and Rukia went to visit in a couple of months.
She was really getting too old for that sort of thing, Byakuya thought as the surrounding conversation faded into the background. Yachiru's merry laughter pealed out over the drunken babble. How old was she again?
Oh. He'd never really thought about that before. "Old enough to--"
"--you think, nii-sama?"
Byakuya shook himself back to the present. Sake slopped over his hand, and Zaraki automatically re-topped things for him. "I... I'm sorry. I was distracted for a moment." He spoke carefully enough he knew he was more than a little drunk. How much sake had he had, anyway?
"Are you all right, nii-sama? You look--"
"I am fine." He didn't mean to curt, but he was. Zaraki raised an eyebrow at him as he stood up. "It has been a long day, and I think I have had more than enough to drink."
"Lightweight," Zaraki muttered.
"Also, I apologize, nii-sama. I didn't mean to cut you off earlier. You were saying...?"
"It was nothing, Rukia. No need to apologize." He had come so close to saying too much. His control was not what it should be. Memories bubbled too close to the surface. He shouldn't--couldn't--stay here any longer. "I think I will take my leave. Zaraki-taichou, thank you again for your hospitality."
He left as swiftly as politeness would allow. Or rather, he tried to. Unfortunately, he made the tactical error of passing too close to Matsumoto's table, and he nearly stumbled when she snagged him with her cane.
"Oi! Kuchiki-taichou, leavin' us already?" she asked. She was barely intelligible. To one side of her, Kira was resting his head on the table, happily unconscious. To the other, Kyouraku was either asleep or making a good pretense.
"I am attempting to," he snapped, or rather, slurred. He rubbed at his arm where she had caught him--she truly was a menace with that thing.
"Well, if you run into that bastard Shuuhei, you tell 'im I'm not talkin' to him, okay? Iba here--" She pointed across the table,"--me an' him saw Shuuhei go off with some chick in an Academy uniform."
Iba nodded, but it was unsteady enough that it made Byakuya mildly queasy. "Yeah. Real cutie, too," he said, ignoring Matsumoto's death glare.
"Goddamn cradle robber. And she had stupid hair, too," Matsumoto said, gathering her hair up on one side of her head.
Byakuya made a mental note to speak to the Academy faculty about the issue of students breaking curfew, but he wasn't sure if he would remember--or even care--in the morning. As for Hisagi, it was Madarame's duty to deal with any infractions on his part.
"Hey, if it helps, he seemed kinda freaked out to see her," Iba was saying, but Byakuya elected not to stay around to hear how the conversation ended.
He headed outside, and had made it past the borders of the Eleventh before he realized that he still had his drink in hand. Even after Matsumoto had jostled his arm, the sake cup was nearly half-full.
He knew he should tip the last of the sake out--he hadn't drunk anything close to this amount for a very long time--but before he could complete the thought, he emptied the cup in one swallow.
While he was aware that he would regret this later, he could not bring himself to care. He did recall the vow he made several decades back not to ever get deliberately drunk again, but that felt immaterial at present. At least he had left the party before he could say anything unseemly. It had, however, been a very close call.
Perhaps he would take the long way back to his manor. He was not walking as steadily as he should be, and it would not be proper to arrive back home in such a state. Or he could go back to the Sixth, he thought, pleased with himself at coming up with such a good idea in his present condition.
Yes, that would do. He took the next turn, fairly certain it would take him in the right direction. More or less. The lighting was poor and patchy enough (he ought to say someone to something about that, wait, that wasn't right...) he couldn't tell precisely where he was or where he was going. It might be a while, but no matter what condition he was still in when he got back (and the morning would no doubt be very unpleasant), he could trust Renji to be discreet. Reasonably discreet. And he would not ask questions. Probably.
But yes, that was a good plan. Except... Wait.
It took him much longer than it should have to figure out what was wrong with his clever plan.
Renji wasn't his vice-captain anymore, was what was wrong with his plan. He didn't even have a vice captain anymore.
He looked down at his cup, surprised to see it still in his hand and disappointed to find that it was empty.
There were so many things he didn't have any more.
He saw them in Rukia's smile. He heard them in--
Byakuya put his free hand over his eyes for a moment and took a deep, shuddering breath, steadying himself, settling his thoughts and shoving the memories that had been shaken loose back deep and safe where they belonged.
He should never have had so much to drink. But still, he looked back down at the cup, as if it might have magically refilled itself once more while he was distracted.
It had not. What was gone would never come back.
In a bright burst of sober rage that pierced right through his willpower, he flung the cup out into the darkness. It hit a wall, closer by than he expected. It shattered satisfactorily, but the sound was matched by an equally loud, equally sharp yelp.
"Who's there!" A woman's voice, familiar, but out of place in a way that made him feel even less sober than he was. "Show yourself! That's an order!"
Byakuya took a few steps forward, until he was in a patch of light cast by one of the few lamps that had been lit in this area. He was not one to obey the orders of a stranger, but he was feeling mean enough to let whoever it was see just what kind of mistake she had made.
"Oh!" The voice was startled and apologetic, but also pleased. He heard footsteps scuffing towards him. "I'm so sorry, Kuchiki-taichou, I had no idea it was you! I mean obviously I didn't know it was you, but I wasn't expecting you to be walking through the Fifth Division so late."
Hinamori Momo stepped into his patch of light, wringing her hands together the way she always used to. "Something's wrong," she said in an incredible understatement, looking up and around. "Why is it so dark? There should be more lamps lit, shouldn't there?"
There should, but there weren't. Of course there weren't. Not in the Fifth Division. Not anymore.
"I'm sorry," he said, not sure why he was apologizing to her, of all people. "But I--why, yes, I believe I have had far, far too much to drink."
As was becoming increasingly obvious, as indicated by the present circumstances.
"I'm not sure how I ended up here anyway," she said, still looking around, still agitated. "And there doesn't seem to be anyone around. Do you know what's going on? There should be more people around, but I haven't seen anyone."
But he didn't feel as drunk as he had even a few minutes ago. Hinamori-fukutaichou was standing right there in front of him, and he had to manage the situation. Somehow.
"No, I do not know what is going on, but I think perhaps we should find out. Come along." He hesitated before taking her by the elbow, but he was able to get a solid enough grip to lead her towards his own division and the hell butterflies that waited there. "I think we may need help with this."
"Can you please let Shi--I mean, Hitsugaya-taichou know? I have no idea what's going on but the last time I--"
"I will get word out as soon as we get back to my division," he said, cutting her off as quickly as he could. He had sobered up rapidly in the last few seconds, but not enough to where he was willing to deal with this on his own.
Yes, he would get word out, but not to Hitsugaya. Nor to Renji, no matter how trustworthy he might be. It would not be wise.
Zaraki, then, he thought. Yes, that would do very well indeed. Zaraki was reliable enough, and other than Renji, was the closest thing he had to a friend. It was an odd thought, one he sometimes chose to examine as the curiosity it was.
"Thank you very much, Kuchiki-taichou. I just want to know what's going on, and how I got here."
"As do I," he said.
Having two men come back with no explanation five days after being reported dead had troubled him enough as it was. But that was nothing compared to having a woman come back from the dead after ten years.
Chapter Five: In which there is an impromptu strategy meeting at the Fourth Division.