It comes with an order
Title: It comes with an order
Author: HeukYa
Genre: General/Romance
Rating: G
Pairing: Kuchiki Byakuya x Abarai Renji
Disclaimer: Bleach sovereigns over me, not the other way round.
Distribution: Fanfiction and LJ
Summary: It is the night before Renji and Rukia leave for Hueco Mundo and the redhead is wondering what to do when he gets a surprise.
Spoilers: Hueco Mundo Arc
Warning: First ByaRen!
Author’s Note:
Yup, this is my first ever ByaRen -the only ByaRen I’ve previously written is just a short scene in Orderly Madness- and the idea is just something that came randomly to me when I was re-watching the previous Bleach again, trying to relieve myself from the sheer stress of getting through the cringing filler. I’ve read many fics that Byakuya represents Renji and Rukia the cloaks but what if it wasn’t quite so… direct? Well, here goes nothing. Concrits are welcome but please, don’t be too harsh ‘cuz it’s something I wrote in five minutes, not to mention I thought I'd never be attempting ByaRen for another twenty years of my life. To be honest, I think I might have turned them into another IchiHitsu which is the pairing I have been writing on...*sweat*
:::::It comes with an order by HeukYa:::::
Renji paused for a second in front of the administration office. Nothing but stagnant silence surrounded him. The time had long grown late, the division now void. And for the umpteenth time, he asked himself what on earth he was hoping to achieve.
Everything was finally ready; well, mostly. It had taken a surprisingly short time, considering exactly what he and his childhood friend were trying to do. Today, Rukia had asked him just one last time if he was really going to go through with it, even though they both knew what his answer was. You’re a fukutaichou, she had said.
The redhead was well aware of how much was on stake at this moment, especially for the Rukongai stray dog who already bore a record of direct insubordination even if his captain had not made any charge against it, officially or otherwise. He was not the sharpest knife in the drawer but he was not that much of an idiot to think that the Head Captain would provide the same generosity.
It did not matter. No, it did matter, but nowhere near as much as rescuing his nakama, helping his nakama, and most of all, not letting his lover’s dear family, his precious friend, slip through their fingers once again on her own.
Opening and closing his hand anxiously, Renji stared hard at the closed door, the burgundy eyes setting an invisible fire on the wood.
He could not make up his mind. Given the circumstances, Rukia and he had agreed from the beginning that they would keep their little scheme to themselves, even from Byakuya; rather, especially Byakuya.
The man was still an encrypted file that Renji was only halfway through compiling the correct decoding program for. It was what made the Kuchiki head so seemingly unattainable, so enchanting, so intoxicating. Yet, at times like this, the vice-captain found himself wishing that the raven-haired shinigami was just a little more readable -- or that he was just a little less stupid.
His captain had not been any different since their return from the kidnapped girl’s room. Renji had done his best to play the normality of the sixth division administration office but knowing Byakuya as well as he did, it was not without reason that the redhead wondered, not whether the captain knew of their secret or not, but how much the stoic shinigami knew of it behind that infallible mask. After all, it turned out to have already been unfoiled by the boy genius that had led the advance team to Karakura. Rukia and Renji had received the shock of their lives when the busty vice-captain promptly bounced into one of their discreet, private meetings then another when Matsumoto announced that she had been sent by Hitsugaya himself to help them going to the substitute shinigami’s aid while the young captain attempted to persuade the others. And if it was so blatant that someone -even if he was a prodigy- who had not had much contact with him until the anti-Arrancar deployment could see through their poor facades, it was going to be hardly a false conjecture that Byakuya was merely pretending to be indifferent despite his knowledge.
Securing a reclusive Senkaimon was proving to be easier said than done, as expected, but time was fast pressing. Sometime tomorrow, Gotei 13 would find themselves void of the sixth division vice-captain and the step-sister of the Kuchiki clan leader, one way or the other. Nothing was going to change that.
Furrowing his tattooed eyebrows hidden behind the white bandana, Renji clenched his hand tightly once before abruptly turning away from the office. The said room was empty, his spiritual sense had told him that already the moment he had arrived. No, it was not because of the lack of presence of a certain someone. In fact, that was the reason why he had paid a visit at this time of hour. It was because this was simply stupid.
Byakuya knew. Perhaps he knew the instant they had stepped through the Senkaimon from the real world. Perhaps it was when Renji had been late for a meeting with him because Matsumoto’s interruption had held him back at the quite whispers longer than he had anticipated. Whenever it was, the vice-captain was certain that his superior was well-aware of what would soon take place yet feigned ignorance.
So what was the point of leaving a letter for the raven-haired noble?
Moreover, whatever he had to say now, he could always say them after he came back from Hueco Mundo. He was never much of a writer anyway. And he would be back.
A few minutes of quick shunpo through the pleasant, cool night air was all it took for the redhead to be standing in front of another door, this time, of his house. There was no uncharacteristic hesitation from the loud-mouthed shinigami as the large hand reached out for it and slid it wide open with force that was maybe a little excessive for such a simple task.
And Renji blinked.
Just inside the front door, on the edge of the hallway flooring, sat a heap of something that he did not recognise. Confusion mixed with a hint of wariness, the crimson eyes surveyed what visible parts of the quarters from his position then the outsides. When he was positive that no one was around, Renji picked up the mysterious object, only to have it wildly flowing out of his grasp.
A pair of hands flailed, thinking that they had lost the item, which resulted in a quite effective entanglement in it, much to the redhead’s chagrin. Narrowing his eyes in the darkness, Renji wiggled and tugged his hands, freeing his fingers one by one, until something bristled against the tips of his digits. For a second, he retracted his hand out of reflex but immediately rolled his eyes at himself. The feeling was familiar; it was only a piece of paper. Taking care as not to rip the fragile sheet, Renji pinched it firmly behind his fingers and proceeded to rescue his peripherals from the swirling trap.
And when he could finally hold the article at arm’s length in his hands rather than around them, the redhead realised what it was; a rather coarse, bland-looking cloak.
The crimson eyes scanned the garment from top to bottom in perplexity. It seemed to be a perfect fit for him, too. Draping the cloak over his arm, Renji turned his attention to the paper he had found within the clothes. And a crooked grin surfaced on the vice-captain’s face, growing wider and wider until it was practically splitting his face into half.
‘The cloak will keep the harsh dust and sands of Hueco Mundo away.
And this is an order, Abarai fukutaichou. You are to return to Soul Society in an adequate state to give me, your direct superior, an acceptable explanation behind your actions, immediately on arrival.’
Renji glanced over his shoulder with an ear-to-ear smirk as if his captain stood there in the dim moonlight, then without a word, closed the door and took his sandals off with his free hand.
As he said before, whatever he had to say now, he could always say them when he was back from Hueco Mundo.
After all, it was an order from his captain who just could not be honest in his words.