Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Prize of Victory	By : NovaAlexandria Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female Views: 87205 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach nor make profit from this snippet

Chapter List
- 102
- 103
- 104
Household Changes: Byakuya
The former head of the Sixth Division stood in the middle of a small, bow-shaped bridge that spanned one of the garden’s many koi ponds. Looking over the wooden railing at the splashing water, he idly used his fingers to tear off small chunks of bread from an extra loaf he’d obtained from the kitchens before tossing them down to the brightly coloured fish. They’d grown larger over the last ten years and could no longer easily disappear into the shadows cast by the pond’s rocks, the trailing plants that grew around the water’s edge and the bridge itself, making it less difficult to see where they might be hiding.
Of course, that could also be a bad thing. One of the servants had come to him that morning to report seeing a large, white crane standing in the middle of one of the ponds, gulping down several of the koi before the servant managed to chase it away with a broom. When the fish were smaller, Byakuya remembered, they would have barely made a decent breakfast. Now they were too big of a target for a hungry crane to resist. Clearly, what ever predator had once hunted his Koi had vanished after the war.
This particular garden, with its sprawling water features and lush trees and plantings, was one of the few peaceful refuges within Byakuya’s own Estate he had left. Yammy rarely set foot in it, no doubt due to the Espada’s aversion to water and the possibility of an unintended bath if the brute decided to tempt fate and traverse one of the bridges. Even the sound of the water flowing from the small spring-fed kakei, and the rhythmic hollow ‘tap’ of its rocking bamboo length as it delivered one container of water to its stone basin after another were a balm to his care-worn nerves. Losing himself in the serene movements of the koi gliding beneath the water was one of the few pleasures in which he could indulge in this otherwise-grotesque parody of a life he’d somehow been trapped within since the Seireitei’s defeat and enslavement. He would take what solace he could get at this point, no matter how small.
The wind shifted and blew strands of his long hair briefly across his face before he reached up to brush it back. He absolutely refused to wear the hair ornaments Yammy had bestowed upon him unless ordered to do so. He would sooner live with the mild discomfort of it getting in his eyes and mouth than wear the bloody clips. Since he wasn’t in public, he wore nothing more than a simple kimono held together by the last vestige of his heritage, exactly as Yammy had ordered.
A few more bits of bread found their way to the fish. The breeze picked up again, this time strong enough to cause the sleeves of his light kimono to ride up his arms, revealing the newest bruises. Yammy had pinned his hands down a little too tightly last night. It also revealed the fading ones beneath them, all of them half-healed reminders of previous evenings.
He did his best to try to ignore the sickly yellow and purple marks, far too used to seeing them to feel much more than resignation that faded into numbness. Senbonzakura touched his mind lightly, a simple reminder that he was no longer suffering at Yammy’s hands alone, that he had someone with him to help him bear the burden of protecting his family with his very body and soul. The support from his Zanpakuto helped, support that he didn’t and couldn’t get from his own flesh and blood.
“Do not blame them Byakuya. You know, as well as I do, that if any of them showed the slightest hint of affection or concern for your fate, that the monster wouldn’t hesitate to use them against you, or maybe just eat them in front of you to add to your suffering,” Senbonzakura reminded him softly.
Byakuya silently and reluctantly agreed with his Zanpakuto. The memory of that fateful day when Yammy had learned of his relationship with Renji slithered up from where he’d tried to bury it. At the same time, a small amount of bile rose in the back of his throat. His ‘master’ had all but forced Szayel to order his ‘pet’ to violently rape him, as both a punishment and as a warning to him. Despite himself, he shivered. Byakuya still had occasional nightmares about that horrific event. He was unsure what had been the worst part about it; the actual rape (something he was used to by that point, compliments of Yammy) or the dead, unseeing look in Renji’s eyes and the lack of recognition on his face while his former subordinate’s body moved of someone else’s will. He sensed Senbonzakura’s own sorrow, his Zanpakuto upset that he could not have been there by his Master’s side to help mitigate some of the pain.
“Bya-san!” a cheerful voice called out happily, breaking him out of his solemn mood.
Byakuya looked up to see Ajuga eagerly racing towards him. Only the slightest twitch of his lips indicated his pleasure at seeing the child. He offered her a small nod of his head in greeting, which was far more than most people ever earned from him. Of course, he admitted, Ajuga was a special case.
She joined him on the bridge, a bright smile on her face as she leaped up to deftly land on the railing, perching there like the cat she half-resembled. There was more than a little longing and hunger in the look she gave the koi swimming beneath her, before she shook her head and grinned.
“Good afternoon, Bya-san,” she addressed him, sounding a bit more formal than expected, based on her current stance as she balanced on the narrow railing. He couldn’t help but raise one eyebrow at her careful, serious tone.
He set the bread down and reached into his sleeves to pull out the chalkboard and chalk he kept on hand for communication. Ajuga had a very strong grasp of kanji for someone so young. He wrote out a return greeting, as it was only polite to do so. In addition, as Grimmjow’s daughter, she technically outranked him in the current social hierarchy. Salutations exchanged, he politely asked the purpose for her visit and inquired after Jushiro and his recovery.
“ ‘take-ji is doing really good,” she replied happily. “Szay says his eye has fully recovered and his reiatsu is climbing steadily. His… tuberlocust...losis,” she faltered a little with the long word before giving up trying to pronounce it right “…seems to be getting better and Szay says he should be able to return to work soon. He’s sleeping right now and Lily-chan is watching over him. Hana-chan is at her lessons, Mama and Nanao-san are at work, Papa is out on a mission, Szay is busy with his project an’ I’m not s’posed to bother Starrk-ji... ” Ajuga trailed off forlornly, picking up the abandoned piece of bread and taking up feeding the koi where Byakuya had left off. She spoke up again after several minutes of silence and a very melodramatic sigh. “I was hoping you would show me more kanji,” she said with more than a little optimism in her voice. “Please, Bya-san?”
She batted her large, blue eyes up at him, as if to emphasize that only he and his calligraphy brush could save her from absolute and utter tedium. His decision to give her a writing lesson, he told himself, had absolutely nothing to do with keeping a bored Ajuga out of potential mischief.
He offered her a soft smile before writing out his agreement. Ajuga gave a small happy squeal as she read it and finished tearing up the last bit of bread before tossing the pieces over her shoulder into the water. Then she jumped nimbly down from the railing to walk beside him as he led her towards his private garden.
Byakuya summoned a servant on their way, and instructed the man to bring both refreshments and his calligraphy set to the porch of his private garden. Ajuga sat down beside him at the low table and her eyes lit up when the servant entered with the tea and goodies and carefully placed the tray before them. The former Taichou looked down at the snacks and reminded himself to thank whomever it was among the kitchen staff that prepared it, for remembering the little girl’s carnivorous habits; the majority of the treats on tray involved thin slices of rare beef and more than one kind of sashimi. The two of them enjoyed a cup of hot, strong tea and a few of the savoury treats before Byakuya lifted the engraved lid to his calligraphy set and handed her a sheet of expensive paper, before placing another one on the table before him.
He passed over the ink well, a small cup of water and the stick of ink. Ajuga took them and carefully began prepare the ink. Her movements were precise as she added water to the stone and rubbed the ink stick against it. Byakuya couldn’t help but to think about how poor he had been at the craft when he was her age. Then again, he had hated calligraphy as a child. If he’d known all those years ago what kind of an emotional refuge the skill would be for him as an adult, he might have paid far more attention to learning it.
The ink prepared, Ajuga moved the well between them before looking up at him expectantly, her eyes almost glittering with pent-up enthusiasm. Despite her obvious excitement, however, Ajuga kept herself surprisingly still. Sometimes it was hard to remember that she had Kurosaki blood in her veins. It never ceased to amaze Byakuya that she could remain so quiet and patient while hunting, or learning something she considered interesting.
Dipping his brush into the ink, he set about drawing a very complicated kanji for Ajuga to learn. When he set the implement down, he glanced over at Ajuga. She had her eyes glued to the beautiful artwork on his sheet of paper. She studied the kanji intently for a few minutes before finally picking up her own brush. With deliberate slowness, she started to copy what he’d shown her.
It may not have been as perfect as the one he had written, but it was far better than what most of the other students he might have taught could have done on their first try. When she finished, he used his own brush and the original to point out the differences between her work and his own. Her eyes never left the tip of his brush as it moved over her paper to indicate the areas that needed improvement. Undaunted, Ajuga moved her hand down and started over. She worked away diligently until her page was finally full of multiple copies of the new word she was working on.
Unfortunately, being incapable of speech, he was unable to inform her just what the word was, nor how to pronounce it. One of the others would have to let her know what it was later in the evening. He would tell her to ask Ukitake to teach her how to use it in context.
The two remained in companionable silence for the next few hours as they worked on their kanji. For Byakuya, the serenity was a much-needed balm to his soul. Being able to spend time with someone else who shared his love for beautiful writing was something he cherished. It was a rare thing these days, infinitely precious…
…and all too easily shattered.
“Chicchai-Hime, where the fuck are you?!?” Yammy bellowed from somewhere nearby. To her credit, Ajuga did not drop her brush, though Byakuya could tell from her sudden tenseness that the lout’s unexpected shout had startled her.
Byakuya let a brief moment of annoyance cross his face before he quickly stifled both the expression and the emotion. Ajuga was far less composed and a scowl of distaste distorted her small features. He forced his irritation down, well aware that Yammy would feel it if he let it rise too high and he did not want the fool to know he was getting to him.
“Oi, Chicchai Hime, if you don’t answer me I’ll…” Byakuya reached over and quickly covered Ajuga’s ears so she didn’t have to hear the rest of Yammy’s threat to bend him over a table and fuck him until his legs ran red with blood and semen gushed out of him in a river.
He felt real anger rise within him as he got slowly to his feet, Ajuga following suit, clearly agitated that someone had interrupted their ‘fun time’.
“Imbecile!” He couldn’t help but to hiss the word inwardly in disgust. The moron was well aware that he was incapable of speech, not to mention the fact that Yammy knew exactly where he was thanks to the Claim.
Byakuya walked as calmly as he could towards the sound of Yammy’s voice, Ajuga glued to his side. He requested she leave via the chalkboard, but she simply ignored it and stayed with him. He did notice that her tail lashed to and fro behind her and her fur was ruffled with what he could have sworn was hostility. Even her eyes had narrowed to unhappy blue slits.
“Ah, there you are, pet,” Yammy smirked at them as the two of them came around the corner.
If the brute was surprised to see Ajuga with him, the Espada showed no sign of it. In fact, he completely ignored the girl, at least for now. Byakuya stood before his ‘master’ and waited silently for Yammy to let him know why he’d been summoned. Not, he supposed, that the jackass needed a reason other than to annoy him.
This time, however, it appeared that the unwelcome intrusion had a reason behind it.
“Go get yourself cleaned up and changed into something more appropriate. Aizen-Kami has summoned us. You too brat,” Yammy finally turned his attention to Ajuga.
Ajuga blinked in surprise, but her fur never settled, nor did her tail.
“What does he want?”
The little girl asked the question that Byakuya had wanted to ask. That earned her a shrug and an irritated eye roll.
“How the hell should I know? No doubt your parents,” he groused, putting some emphasis on the word to indicate that if she’d been older, he’d have used a less polite term for Karin and Grimmjow, “are looking for you now, so I’d scat if I were you”.
Scowling, Ajuga took the time to thank Byakuya for the lesson and refreshments before darting away, disappearing quickly. Before Byakuya could turn to return to his quarters to make himself presentable for public viewing, Yammy’s large hand encircled his upper arm tightly enough to leave another set of fresh bruises and yanked him over until they were standing almost face-to-face.
“We got a few minutes and I got a problem. Take care of it before getting all nice and pretty,” Yammy sneered at him. “I wouldn’t want you getting dirty before we leave.”
He held back a scowl of disgust as the Claim forced him to kneel before his Master and obey Yammy’s order. The Espada had barely lowered his white hakama before a massive hand tangled with his black hair and his head was pulled painfully forward, the swollen flesh pressed persistently against his lips. As much as he desired to deny any part of Yammy access to his mouth, the Claim made sure his lips parted and his tormentor’s warm, pulsing cock invaded his mouth. It slid over his tongue and the tip settled partially down his throat. Only ten years of putting up with this kind of abuse let him take that much flesh that deep so quickly without retching up the contents of his stomach.
He felt Yammy’s shaft cut off his airway and Byakuya forced his mind into a meditative state, a calm that Senbonzakura helped reinforce. His lips sealed over the last little bit of free space and he sucked hard, hoping to get this indignity over with quickly so he could breathe again.
Yammy groaned and began to thrust into his mouth, adjusting his grip on Byakuya’s head. The Arrancar held it still, cupped between two meaty palms, forcing his mouth to work at the bastard’s preferred pace. He took breaths of air whenever he could as Yammy had long since learned just how long he could keep up the pace before suffocation began to effect his performance.
Mercifully, the torment didn’t last long before white jets of liquid erupted in his mouth. Byakuya swallowed what he could; the rest ran down either side of his lips as it escaped his mouth, coating his chest in excess semen. Yammy pulled away and the last few spurts splashed across his face, getting his hair and clothing sticky.
“Mmm, you are so good pet,” Yammy purred. “Now go get cleaned up. We will finish the rest of this later.”
Byakuya rose to his feet and resisted the overwhelming urge to both use his sleeve to wipe off his face, and to rush back to his quarters before anyone could see him so humiliated. While there was no servant on the Kuchiki Estate that hadn’t seen him bent over a table and raped by Yammy at least once, Byakuya did have a small semblance of pride left to maintain.
He greatly appreciated the bath and he held still as the servants dried, and carefully dressed him. One slipped the clips Yammy had given him into his hair to hold it back from his face while another wrapped his scarf around his waist where it would remain hidden beneath the fancy ensemble. Yammy had never rescinded his order for Byakuya to wear it at all times, so wear it somewhere on his person he must. The number of unhappy memories his once-treasured family heirloom carried had only grown larger over the years. Yammy made a habit of using the innocent-looking length of windflower silk to restrain him on far too many occasions to count. The brute would then order Byakuya to resist the rape as he assaulted his ‘pet’, knowing the kind of injuries that would result.
If he were ever able to free himself from the Claim, the first thing he’d vowed to do was to burn both the clips and scarf in the closest, hottest fire he could find.
Finally presentable, he met up with Yammy at the main gate leading from the Estate. As usual, Yammy was wearing his uniform, crafted from the finest silks, while he was dressed like some sort of female courtesan. It was a mockery of what a proper Lord and Lady ought to look like when making a public appearance.
He could hear Senbonzakura faintly saying that the third thing to go on the bonfire would be the kimono he was currently wearing.
Yammy lead him, not to the old Taichou meeting hall as he expected, but to Aizen’s Royal Palace. They arrived at the same time as Barragan and his entourage. Byakuya rarely had the chance to see his fellow former Shinigami outside of Claim Meetings and the odd glimpse during a battle. The last time he’d truly seen Soi Fon and Yumichika had been roughly eight months ago.
Both hadn’t changed much, thankfully, but he did notice that Barragan’s fraccion was with him and while it had been a very long time since he had seen Ggio, he thought that the Second’s faithful Arrancar seemed far more subdued than he recalled.
“Any idea what the hell Aizen wants with us?” Yammy asked Barragan as they approached the massive, ornamental gates.
“No,” Barragan answered with a touch of surliness, his voice as grizzled as his appearance.
Byakuya got the impression that the other Espada hadn’t planned on spending his evening in a meeting. That led to thoughts about what his original plans might have entailed and he promptly shut the door on any further speculation about the Second. He found that he didn’t truly want to know.
“Humph, better not be a useless, long-ass waste of time, with us listening to Szayel moan about his stupid projects,” Yammy said and scowled.
A grunt of agreement was the only response Barragan gave as the two Arrancar guards let them pass without challenge. A servant met them in the courtyard and politely requested they follow. He led them to one of the palace’s many gardens where someone had set up a buffet table. There were also plenty of pillows and cushions strewn about for their comfort. They were hardly the first to arrive, but at least they weren’t the last, Byakuya realized.
Aizen himself wasn’t present yet, but Unohana and Gin were both already in attendance. The first sat elegantly on the largest pillow available next to a throne-like chair. It was also the only chair in the room and Byakuya could hazard a scathing guess as to whom it belonged. The second knelt in submission behind her: hands clasped in his lap and head bowed. As usual, Gin wore nothing more than a simple white yukata. Byakuya could see scars on any patch of skin that wasn’t covered, and not all of them were old.
He might have felt a little more sympathy had they decorated anyone other than Gin and had his own limbs ached a little less from last night’s session with Yammy.
Halibel and her fraccion had also arrived before them. The blonde, tanned woman gazed out over the garden with her sea-glass eyes, silent and as inscrutable as ever. She lounged on a large, green cushion behind her followers while Toshiro sat before her. The three girls that served the Third were busy cooing at him, pinching his cheeks on occasion and telling him how ‘cute’ he was, among other more lascivious things. They practically draped themselves over the poor young man like bickering, entitled housecats fighting over the lone lap in the room. A light blush stained the boy’s cheeks as he put up with the treatment, but the blush didn’t detract from the near snarl on his face as he resolutely stared ahead and ignored the women and their unwanted pawing.
He saw Toshiro more often than many of the others, perhaps once a month or so, when the silver-haired Taichou had reason to visit Karin’s Division. While it was hard to see while Toshiro was sitting down, Byakuya had noticed that he’d gained about two inches in the last year, and that his face, while still boyish, had hollowed out a little, cheekbones just beginning to make an appearance. Either he wasn’t eating as much or working too hard, or he was doing what all youths did eventually: maturing. The older man wondered if the Third and her lackeys knew exactly what kind of power they were keeping under their roof and if they did, how they could be so blasé about treating him like a toy.
Ulquiorra and Orihime were there as well, with little Diaemus curled in his mother’s lap, a look of annoyance and resignation as far as the whole situation plastered on the child’s face. Diaemus’s crankiness stood in contrast to the pleased smile on his mother’s lips. Ulquiorra stood protectively over his family, impassive as ever, at least to the casual observer. Someone more attuned to noticing minute details could easily see that the Fourth Espada seemed far less stern than usual. His posture wasn’t as rigid as it once had been and he was standing closer to his family than Byakuya ever recalled seeing. Something had changed in the Arrancar, but from the contented look on Orihime’s face and her relaxed body language, neither she nor her child seemed to be worried about it.
“What’s going on?” Barragan demanded yet again as he eased himself down on one of the larger cushions.
Yumichika settled on one side of his Master with all the grace of a born noble, despite his Rukongai heritage, arranging the folds of his expensive kimono about him expertly for maximum impact. Ggio took his usual place on the other side with far less grace and once more, Byakuya noted the fraccion seemed rather cowed and very ill-at-ease. If he didn’t have as much personal experience with trying to function normally while in great pain, Byakuya might have missed the lines of strain around Ggio’s eyes and failed to notice the stiffness in his movements. Soi Fon knelt behind the three men, her body tense and the usual expression of burning hate on her face, most of it squarely aimed at the elderly Second’s broad backside.
Barragan gave no indication that he noticed it at all, which puzzled Byakuya. It was something he’d grown used to seeing over the years, but never really understood. How could the Espada not feel the woman’s undisguised rage through the Claim, when it simmered so closely behind him? The Second did not seem to be the sort that would let any challenge to his authority go unchecked for long. Strangely, the old man looked as if he could care less that Soi Fon seemed poised to sink a dagger between his shoulder blades if only she could get her hands on one.
Thankfully, Unohana’s voice cut through the questions running through his head and he turned his attention towards her.
“Aizen-Kami summoned everyone, although it seems he has declined to share his reasons for doing so.” The woman answered the Second’s question demurely, her expression never wavering from her usual polite mask. Sometimes Byakuya deeply envied her ability to hide all feelings behind it. “I am at a loss as well as to why he’s chosen to gather us together. He did instruct me to tell everyone that we may partake of the food,” she added, gesturing with one perfectly manicured hand towards the table set up with food and beverages, inviting the ‘guests’ at this odd affair to help themselves.
“Go get me something to drink, Chicchai-Hime,” Yammy grunted as he found another of the large pillows and sprawled his girth over it.
He did as ordered, handing the glass over before Yammy patted the small pillow he had set down in front of him. Byakuya turned around and sat down as carefully as Yumichika. He remained almost as still as a statue, in part due to the heavy fabric of the kimono. His outfit practically forced him in the proper, seated position with its weight and stiffness. For the most part, the lout seemed content to run his thick fingers through Byakuya’s hair and along the back of his neck, but occasionally he’d add a hard grope. Byakuya ignored the pawing as best he could, and focused most of his attention on his inner world. He couldn’t entirely escape into it however, as much as he would have wished. Yammy got possessively aggressive if he felt that Byakuya was ignoring him or not giving him enough attention.
Nnoitra and Rangiku waltzed into the room next, or rather, Nnoitra waltzed while Rangiku followed obediently behind him. Tesra and Tatsuki followed right behind them, side-by-side. The men wore their usual white uniforms while the woman were both dressed up, Rangiku in the kimono she wore for Claim Meetings and Tatsuki in a black kimono with some sort of white, geometric pattern embroidered over it. It was the first time Byakuya had ever seen Tatsuki in anything other than clothing that mimicked Tesra’s garb. In addition, her hair had been styled, with an additional touch of properly-applied make-up. He had to admit that the change looked good on the young woman and he wasn’t the only one that noticed either. He caught Yumichika sitting up a little straighter, giving the ensemble a critical look and small nod of approval.
Tesra, Byakuya decided, had the appearance of a man trying very hard not to look utterly besotted with the woman next to him, despite his guarded expression. His boss, however, seemed oblivious, and somewhat irked at the summons and the tension hovering in the late afternoon air.
“Yo, what the hell’s up with this party?” Nnoitra asked loudly as he strode right over to the drink table, his entourage trailing after him.
Unohana repeated her mantra for their benefit. Nnoitra responded to the invitation to eat by grabbing a plate and filling it before finding a few pillows and pulling his own pet down next to him, setting the plate between them and gesturing for her to eat as well. Tesra had followed his Espada’s lead to the table, but whereas Rangiku shared a plate with her master, Tesra and Tatsuki had filled up their own plates and obtained drinks before joining the other two at the spot Nnoitra had picked out.
Every party seemed to have the same response to Unohana’s words. They hovered uncertainly around the buffet table until the leader of the group finally filled a plate, at which point the rest followed like a pack of wolves finally granted the opportunity to eat by the alpha. Thus, it was no surprise when Yammy sent him over to gather a plate of food and to refill his large beaker of sake. The rest seemed to have reached the same conclusion. Ggio went to the table for Barragan and Yumichika, Orihime rose to fetch food for herself and her son after handing the Diaemus off to his father. Halibel’s fraccion bickered and fought amongst each other over the right to fetch a plate of food for their Mistress and Toshiro, who remained where he was with a look of relief at the temporary reprieve from the three fawning girls. There was some initial chatter; it started with Orihime complimenting Tatsuki’s kimono between bites of something that looked like red bean paste smeared over sashimi, and once a few people started talking, others followed suit.
The next group to arrive was Starrk and Grimmjow’s communal cabal. It was, by far, the largest household, consisting of everyone living on Jushiro’s rambling Estate. To Byakuya’s relief, Jushiro numbered among them, and while he looked a little tired and now sported a black eye patch over the eye that Aizen ruined, he appeared to be in good spirits and much stronger than the last time he’d laid eyes on the Taichou. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, knowing the older man had been punished for asking Aizen to end the violence towards the vanquished and Claimed. It had been an extraordinarily brave thing to do and insanely foolish at the same time.
Unohana greeted the newcomers as she had the others. Ajuga and Hana had no qualms about attacking the mountain of food, though Karin and Nanao firmly led their respective daughters away from the alcohol. Someone, fortunately, had seen fit to provide fruit juice for the children. While Hana cheerfully accepted a glass of it and Diaemus sipped a little from a small cup his mother held, Ajuga made a face and stuck out her tongue. Apparently, fruit juice wasn’t on the little carnivore’s preferred list of drinks. Fortunately, someone had been thoughtful enough to provide hot water for tea, which the girls used to mix up Jushiro’s medicine and Ajuga used to make a beverage whose taste she could tolerate.
Had they been in the privacy of his own Estate, Byakuya probably would have let a small smile touch his lips as he watched the two girls fuss over their beloved ‘take-ji’. They made sure he was comfortable and seated close to where Starrk had commandeered a nest of floor pillows and had promptly fallen asleep, to Lilinette’s consternation. Nanao took a seat next to Jushiro, keeping a watchful eye on her daughter. Byakuya couldn’t really blame her, given some of the people in the room; any mother would have had a right to be nervous with the likes of Barragan, Nnoitra and his own loathsome ‘master’ in attendance. Ajuga was quick to make the rounds around the room, visiting all of her friends.
Szayel was the last to arrive with his two pets. The scientist seemed very nervous, almost terrified for some reason, until he realized he’d entered a garden full of people that didn’t seem very interested in him. Then there was a flash of greater fear in his eyes, which in turn vanished completely as Ajuga ran up to greet him happily with outstretched arms, Hana by her side and a reluctant Diaemus toddling behind them. It was as if someone had let the air out of an overstretched balloon. Szayel’s shoulders slumped in relief at the sight of the child, though Byakuya had no idea why he’d been frightened in the first place. Nemu stood behind him, hands clasped in front of her, the picture of deference. It wasn’t until she turned to the side to speak to Hana that Byakuya realized that her butterfly-embroidered kimono failed to conceal a certain thickness around her midsection, her obi tied loosely over her growing belly.
Byakuya allowed himself to feel a certain amount of amazement at the realization that the former Fukutaichou was definitely pregnant hit him, knowing that he’d rather feel surprise than what he knew he’d be subjected to if he looked at Szayel’s other ‘pet.’
Despite the fact it would only lead to more pain, he couldn’t help but to let his eyes slide from Nemu’s figure to the redhead standing to Szayel’s right. He also couldn’t help that his mind flashed back to that hateful, terrible day as he stared at his former Fukutaichou, expecting to see the same hollow, vacant look in the eyes of someone who had once been one of his brightest and most trusted subordinates. He recalled the pain of being pinned to the wall and violently entered before the mindless, merciless thrusting began as Renji’s unknowing, unfeeling shell raped him.
Senbonzakura’s presence flooded into him, thankfully cutting through the unwanted images and bringing him out of it. He sent a small touch of thanks back to his Zanpakuto before his vision cleared. When his eyes refocused on Renji, he realized he was staring into surprised brown eyes… brown eyes that seemed equally astonished to see him. His entire body went cold with shock as he realized what he was seeing wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him.
If he was still capable of speech he would have lost it at the sight of a very puzzled-looking Renji gazing back at him with an expression that hovered somewhere between ‘what the hell?’ and ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’. The redhead gave his former Taichou a good once-over, obviously taking in the outfit Yammy had forced him to wear. His eyes were no longer lifeless, his healthy body obviously moving under its own power and powered by nothing more than redhead’s own free will.
It was as if the last nine years had been some terrible dream and the Renji he’d once known, the promising, brazen, mouthy young man who had gone up against him in a bid to save Rukia from execution, had never been taken away. He felt suddenly disoriented, reeling inwardly a little at something he thought he’d never get to see again. Senbonzakura again came to his aid, catching his inner self and helping steady him as he took in the sight of a fully-restored Abarai Renji.
He didn’t know whether he should feel ecstatic joy, or abject terror. Unfortunately, he forgot that whatever he felt, Yammy could feel as well. Byakuya had a few seconds to realize his mistake, before sharp pain in his scalp brought him sharply back to reality. Yammy’s fingers gripped him painfully by the hair, almost dislodging the clips and the suddenly angry Espada yanked his head back at an angle so that Byakuya had to look his ‘master’ in the eye.
“You aren’t paying attention to Szayel’s trash again, are you, Chicchai-Hime?” Yammy whispered harshly into his ear. “Because a repeat of the last time you showed such interest in him is always an option,” he warned, his voice pitched low and his tone bordering on malicious.
Abject terror won out at those words, though Byakuya clamped down hard on as much of it as he could lest Yammy discover just how much power that threat had over him. To his shame, he could feel himself freeze up at the thought, mouth going dry as he tried to calm himself with whatever inner mantras he could remember. He gave a small nod of his head, to let Yammy know that he understood. When the Espada released his hair, he sat back up, straightened his spine and worked to bring both his pulse back under control and start breathing steadily again.
So, he considered, Renji had somehow regained his soul by some as-of-yet unnamed miracle. That was one story he was definitely interested in hearing, but for now he didn’t dare continue to pay his former Fukutaichou even the smallest amount of attention, other than to note that Renji’s hand, raised a little in what might have been a greeting, had fallen limply to his side as the redhead witnessed Yammy’s treatment of his person.
Renji’s complexion had lost a bit of color as well while watching Yammy ‘discipline’ him. He prayed that Renji had gotten the message not to engage him in conversation, though he might have been helped in that regard by the cruel smirk that Yammy sent Renji’s way. It was best that his former Fukutaichou not try to do anything that might tempt the bastard that held Byakuya’s Claim, even unknowingly. Yammy rarely made idle threats and Byakuya didn’t want to risk this being one of the rare times he did.
Not now, not when two people would suffer for it rather than just one.
Satisfied that he’d made his point, Yammy settled back down and resumed stuffing his face, while Byakuya slumped forward a little, his eyes half lidded and head slightly bowed as if he was meditating. It wasn’t far from the truth and Senbonzakura once more offered him silent assistance. His brief, needed retreat to his inner world was cut short, unfortunately, by a far less welcome arrival.
“Good evening!”
Aizen greeted his assembled guests with a beatific smile as he flowed into the room and took his seat on the throne like chair. “I am pleased you could all join me. For those who have yet to find a spot, please take a seat.”
“What is this about?” Barragan asked gruffly, as those not already seated quickly found a place, any place, to occupy.
“Do I need a reason to enjoy an evening with my loyal subjects and their pets?” Aizen questioned benignly.
No one had an answer to that, or at least not one that anyone dared voice and Barragan appeared wise enough to let it go at that, though he did ‘harrumph’ a little. Byakuya wondered if the Second was possibly suicidal, or had started down the path to senility.
“If you have not helped yourself to refreshments as of yet, please feel free to do so now.”
Aizen, like Unohana before him, swept one hand towards the buffet table, and no one was foolish enough to believe that the words weren’t a direct command to ‘Eat and Make Merry, Or Else’. Then ‘Kami’ leaned back and rested his chin on his hand, as if to take a count of how many dishes there were in play throughout the room.
As of yet, Byakuya had yet to partake of anything. It was just as well; his stomach might have betrayed him, with Yammy’s nasty promise still hanging over his head. He found he didn’t have much of an appetite to begin with and watching the oaf behind him shovel food into his mouth with an appalling lack of manners would have killed it anyway.
Yammy again dropped his empty plate in Byakuya’s lap, despite the fact it had been loaded with enough food to feed four people.
“Get a bigger plate this time,” the Espada ordered and then followed the instruction with a loud belch, rubbing his stomach for emphasis. “And bring me more sake!”
This time he waited until the others had gathered plates before picking up one of the half-empty platters and filling it. Instead of topping off Yammy’s cup, he simply picked up two large bottles of the rice wine and added them to the platter of food.
It was slow at first, but the chatter eventually resumed between various parties, thanks in no small part to the presence of the children. The women in the room, save for Halibel and her fraccion and Soi Fon, who glowered like a neglected guard dog behind Barragan, followed suit. He attributed the former to Ajuga’s natural fearlessness in the face of danger, or perhaps to the fact that she simply didn’t understand how dangerous some of the people in the room could be. The women, especially the human women, just seemed to have this urgent need to talk amongst themselves, to show off their respective children or soon-to-be children, their clothing, and how each fared in their makeshift households. All of them, human and Shinigami alike, including Yumichika once he was able to steal away for a short amount of time from Barragan’s side while Ggio refilled the old man’s glass, made Tatsuki blush a deep magenta with flattering comments about her ‘makeover’.
It was, apparently, the result of an afternoon spent raiding Rangiku’s closet and cosmetics stash. The Espada, as a whole, seemed to keep to their own households, letting their fraccion and ‘pets’ do most of the socializing, with the exception being Starrk and Grimmjow’s motley crew. In light of the fact that Starrk was actively snoring, and had only briefly woken up with Aizen’s arrival, Grimmjow appeared to have stepped into the resulting void and assumed a guarded stance over the rest of the household. Byakuya hadn’t needed to follow Szayel, Nemu and Renji with his eyes to know that the three had sat as close to Karin and Grimmjow as propriety would allow, with Szayel looking as if all he wanted to do was toss Nemu over his shoulder and flee back to the relative safety of the Science Division. Something had the scientist ready to bolt in terror and Byakuya couldn’t understand why.
He didn’t allow himself any further contemplation along those lines and crushed his curiosity under his mental boot, concentrating only on the brute behind him and the task of keeping the platter and the bottles in Yammy’s hands filled.
Byakuya did his best to let the conversations flow around him, returning to a Zen-like state or at least as close to one as he could get with Yammy’s food-ridden spittle landing in his hair and on his shoulders. It was a good thing he didn’t have a plate himself because there was a good chance any food on it would have been contaminated with slobber from the goon behind him. As it stood, he was going to need yet another bath when he got home. He lost track of the number of times he went back and forth from the buffet table to reload Yammy’s platter and bring him another bottle. Instead, he let himself ponder things that wouldn’t necessarily trigger another threat from the glutton sitting behind him.
One of the first things that occurred to him was that Yammy was even more disgusting when he ate and drank than Omaeda had ever been, and the 2nd Division’s late, fat Fukutaichou had been a true professional when it came to stretching his stomach to new and mind-boggling limits.
The second observation was that, other than the Claim Meetings, Aizen simply wasn’t the sort of leader to throw a party. He had never done so as the Taichou of the 5th Division and that fact hadn’t changed in the decade since the Seireitei’s defeat. Aizen held meetings, not parties. So what had changed? He didn’t buy Aizen’s claim of unconditional munificence for a second.
On his umpteenth trip back to the buffet, Byakuya stole a small glance at the man reclining in the chair, looking through his lowered lashes so as not to be caught staring. The traitor seemed to be busy observing the festivities, taking sips from his cup. He did not engage in any of the conversations and seemed content to remain where he was. He would gesture from time to time, a small movement of one finger and Gin would refill the cup, placing it on a small table to the side of the throne, but otherwise Aizen said nothing. Occasionally, Gin would refill Unohana’s teacup, but ate nothing himself. Apparently, his role was not that of ‘guest’ in this business, but as a servant.
Unohana, for her part, would occasionally rise, ask if she could leave Aizen’s side for a moment and wait for his answer. Aizen would then give her permission to join whatever group or household in conversation. She seemed to be doing her assigned duty as a ‘hostess’ in lieu of Aizen, leaving her husband free to sit back and watch the show in the same way Byakuya’s grandfather, Ginrei, would have studied the map of a potential battlefield. It was this last thought that made him take a second, veiled look around the garden as he returned to his seat, Yammy grabbing yet another laden platter from him.
“Ah, I see. Very clever,” Byakuya thought silently.
The tactician in him almost applauded, but then he’d had years of exposure to the subtle ways the nobles operated, both socially and politically. His grandfather had once told him that where the Noble Houses were concerned, the only differences between a battleground and a dinner party were the attire of the participants and the quality of the rations. He was surprised that it had actually taken him this long to discern the motives behind Aizen’s little scheme. This entire meeting was so that their self-styled overlord could observe his minions and determine allegiances within his own ranks.
This, of course, led to other questions: why would Aizen be concerned about any allegiances and what possible danger could those allegiances pose to the dictator? If Aizen were truly as confident of his rule as he sounded, why go to all this trouble? Did he fear dissention in the ranks? Did he suspect that someone in the room might be plotting against him? Or was he just bored and looking for something to amuse himself with that would potentially challenge his intellect?
In another life, attempting to guess at the host’s underlying motives for a hosting a party would have been an intriguing game for him. It was a sport his grandfather and family trained him to play as a child, one that he rarely had the opportunity to participate in these days. However, it was a game that Byakuya was reluctant to spare much energy for right now with Yammy hovering over his shoulder just itching for an excuse to torment him. Even glancing up from his lap could be dangerous right now, given Yammy’s current frame of mind. He could only catch small snippets of the talk going on around him and he steadfastly refused to even look in the direction of Szayel’s small household.
Still, the fact that Aizen gathered these individuals here at all told Byakuya that the usurper wasn’t sitting as easily on the King’s Throne as he might want everyone to believe.
Byakuya chose to drift through the evening in a sort of semi-meditative state, moving only to fetch another bottle or load up Yammy’s platter when the glutton emptied it. It wasn’t as if there was much conversation to be had in their vicinity anyway, with his own lack of speech and Yammy’s perpetually full mouth. Ajuga scampered by and tried to engage him in conversation, but he didn’t have his chalkboard, or any other means to communicate with her on him. He briefly showed her his empty hands and then folded them in his lap. She seemed a little disappointed, but took the gentle shake of his head at face value.
Oddly enough, and something that only occurred to him after she’d moved on pester Rangiku and Tatsuki, he noticed that Yammy didn’t seem to mind the little girl’s presence, exhibiting a kind of cranky patience towards her rather than the kind of hostility that looking at Renji had caused. In fact, the more the thought about it, the more he realized that Yammy had never raised his hand or voice to any of the children, not even the few who had been living on the Kuchiki Estate before they were hustled away to a safer location. Some sort of invisible line existed that involved the young ones somehow, a line that even the most witless of the Espada wouldn’t cross.
The evening eventually ended, about an hour after Gin and a few nervous-looking servants in Royal uniforms refilled the buffet table with various sweets and fruits. The alcohol offered shifted from things served with supper to the cloyingly sweet stuff that usually accompanied a dessert course. Yammy simply traded the savoury courses for sweet ones and ploughed through cake and cognac with abandon.
At length, Aizen must have decided that he’d obtained enough information and rose to his feet. He dismissed them all and with Unohana following a few steps behind, retreated for the night, leaving Gin to see to the cleanup. It was late, so late that Diaemus and Hana had fallen asleep; Hana snuggled between the gently-snoring Starrk and the drowsy ‘take-ji and little could be seen of Diaemus other than a small form with his wings folded over him as he slept in his mother’s arms. Even Ajuga seemed to be fighting slumber tooth and nail, nodding off only to shake herself awake. It was as if she was afraid she was going to miss something.
For his part, Byakuya resolutely kept his eyes on the grass and his hands in his lap, ignoring each of the Espada’s households as they left the garden, murmuring their goodnights to one another as they went. Again, the Espada’s ‘pets’ and minions seemed to say the farewells for their Masters; the Arrancar themselves were content to give each other the necessary space according to their given rank and level of territorial instincts.
Again, the exception to the rule seemed to be Starrk and Grimmjow, who had to have come up with some kind of workable arrangement as to who ran things. To Byakuya, it seemed that Starrk, though ranked higher, was willing to let Grimmjow do most of the heavy lifting in that regard, content to relax, snooze and let the younger Espada have his way as long as it benefited the group as a whole. The blue-haired Sixth settled the matter with his daughter by picking her up and perching her on his hip as she stubbornly remained awake and bid all of her friends good night.
She eventually lost the war against fatigue and the last thing he saw of her that night was her cradled comfortably in her father’s arms as Starrk’s misfit collective left the garden. No one bothered to utter anything to either he or Yammy, but Byakuya hadn’t expected anything.
Their own departure was less-than-graceful, but at least they were the last to leave and Byakuya was thus spared the indignity of witnesses to his ‘master’s’ behaviour. Yammy had chosen to partake so heavily of the free food and drink that the overstuffed lout was thoroughly inebriated, stumbling on his feet when he tried to get up. Under normal circumstances the intoxicated Espada might have gone to sleep stretched out and drooling messily on the pillows but for Gin, who politely asked Byakuya, in as subservient a tone as possible, if they needed help getting home. The hint wasn’t subtle at all. Yammy had belligerently swung at Gin in response, lost his footing and would have gone down but for a Claim-induced order for Byakuya to prevent the fall. He’d done so, managing to get hold of Yammy’s massive arm quickly enough to stop the Espada from landing on the grass face-first.
Unfortunately, Yammy’s other hand made a panicked grab in a bid to hang on to something, anything, and found Byakuya’s heavy kimono sleeve. This resulted in not only the kimono sleeve but also the sleeves of the silk yukatas beneath the luxurious fabric being torn away completely at the seams. Yammy stared drunkenly, stupidly at the expensive fabric in his hand as Byakuya tried his best to shift the Espada into a standing position with little success and gaining a few more bruises for his trouble. Yammy then decided to drape his carcass across Byakuya, praising his ‘little Chicchai-Hime’ for being such a good pet’, slurring the words.
Of course, Byakuya failed to realize that his arm was now exposed, until he remembered that Gin was still standing to one side, having easily dodged the poorly-placed blow. The former 3rd Division Taichou was doing his best to look away from the mottled bruises on Byakuya’s biceps and forearms. Instead, he repeated his query as to whether or not they needed any help.
With his ‘master’s’ foul, sake-saturated breath hot in his face, and the drunken cretin’s weight an unwelcome burden on his shoulders, Byakuya’s patience with the evening had reached its limit. He decided that a retreat that involved as few people as possible was probably the sanest option. He shook his head and slowly, he turned the two of them towards the garden gate, Yammy muttering vaguely obscene things and occasionally pawing at him with his free arm as they walked. He did not let go of the sleeve, dragging it on the ground behind him as Byakuya began the long slog back to his own Estate. He tried to use Shunpo, until the rapid movement caused Yammy to turn a sickly shade of green and made a gagging noise. Not wanting to wear any more of the bastard’s meal than he’d already had to, Byakuya abandoned any hope for a quick trip home and settled for a less stomach-churning pace.
Surprisingly, the cool night air hadn’t done a thing for Yammy’s condition. He remained as smashed at the end of the journey home as he had been when they’d left the Palace. Byakuya, once he’d waved off the shocked-looking servant at the Kuchiki Estate gates, tried to recall exactly how many cups of wine and bottles of sake he’d handed off to the idiot and failed to come up with a number less than twenty. Or, was it thirty? He’d been trying so hard to regain his equilibrium and keep Yammy from following through on his threat regarding Renji that he’d lost count. He’d assumed that whatever alcohol he’d served his ‘master’ would be absorbed and balanced by the sheer amount of food the fool had eaten. Of course, the only other people he’d ever encountered that could put back that kind of booze and still function normally were Shihoin Yoruichi, back when she’d run the 2nd Division like her own personal fiefdom and given poor Soi Fon fits about the Division’s liquor bills, and the late Kyoraku Shunsui. Nanao had suffered a similar fate to Soi Fon in regard to Division bills with the added bonus of having to hunt down and drag her completely inebriated Taichou home from what ever bar he wound up at.
Yammy managed to get to the wing that housed his private chambers before nature, the laws of physics and his abused stomach finally turned on him. Byakuya barely managed to step away from the great oaf before Yammy rudely shoved him aside. He braced his off-kilter bulk against the lip of the same fountain he’d once chosen as a spot to violate Byakuya’s body. The Espada proceeded to empty his guts into it, heaving long after there was nothing left to vomit into the water basin He remained retching over the thing, shoulders shaking for a while. Then, to Byakuya’s utter disgust, he used the sleeve of the kimono to sloppily wipe his face and mouth clean, letting it fall to the floor in a smelly, stained heap.
“D’oan feel so good…” Yammy muttered irritably and Byakuya realized that the monster was still completely soused, even after ridding himself of whatever alcohol he might have had left in his digestive tract. He also seemed to have decided what he wanted to do now that he was ‘home’ and for one horrifying moment, Byakuya thought he was in for another brutal night.
“Gonna sleep… too fuckin’ tir..tired…” he announced and with that, the huge Arrancar turned about and promptly fell face-forward onto the elaborately-woven carpet at his feet.
Several terrifying minutes went by, and only when Byakuya heard an ear-jarring noise that turned out to be a snore erupt from the Espada’s mouth did he motion for the group of terrified servants hovering in the shadows to come forward. One of them had been smart enough to fetch his slate and chalk and he quickly gave orders for the strongest of them to drag both the carpet and the lout on it into the lout’s suite and let him sleep it off with a large, hopefully unbreakable container of water. The head of the Kuchiki House then gave the rest orders to deal with the unpleasant but necessary task of cleaning the fountain. One of them asked about his clothing and he simply wrote out the kanji for ‘fire’, letting the help take that in whatever manner they wanted. The only thing he wasn’t allowed to burn was the scarf. At that moment, the servants could reduce the rest of it to very expensive ashes for all he cared. After warning the lot of them to make themselves scarce in the morning, he turned on his heel and made his way back to his own quarters.
His bath, mercifully, was uninterrupted. Once he’d scrubbed himself pink in an attempt to rid himself of Yammy’s detritus and dried saliva, among other things, he sank into the tub of hot water and let himself relax a little, exhaustion creeping up on him now that the adrenaline that had been coursing through his system all evening began to drain away.
As grateful as he for Renji’s restored soul and presumably his restored Zanpakuto, Byakuya also couldn’t ignore the danger his recently awakened former subordinate posed. The rape had been terrible, but as awful as that experience had been, it would pale in comparison to what might happen now that Renji was aware of his surroundings and his actions. Byakuya had no doubt that Szayel would force Renji to repeat his attack if Yammy threatened the little pink-haired viper enough. The very last thing he wanted was to put the redhead through such a hellish experience. Something like that would destroy Renji all over again, in the same way that enduring it had nearly destroyed him.
Like his family and the household servants, it would probably be for the best if he considered his former officer just another pawn that Yammy could use to try to inflict pain upon him. Therefore, he would have to avoid Renji at all costs, lest his emotions get the better of him and alert the brute to whom he was currently shackled to that there was some kind of sick fun to be had at their expense. Byakuya buried his face in his hands, scrubbing the last vestiges of the makeup from his face and running his trembling fingers through his wet, loose hair. He’d tossed Yammy’s hated clips on the dressing table, clawing at the long strands to get it out of the ridiculously feminine style. Here, in the questionable sanctuary of his bath, he was at least free of anything that wasn’t ‘Byakuya’ now.
Staring down into the water, he could see the multi-colored bruises on his arms and a few lurid, fingertip-shaped purple marks on his thighs. An unbidden image of the spotted carp in the pond outside swam up from the depths to haunt him. The sight reminded him too much of the koi. He was a captive thing, like they were, unable to hide from the predator that had taken up unwanted residence in his home, in danger of being consumed. He bitterly reached down and rippled the water with one tired hand, distorting the view of his abused body. Fists clenched beneath the bathwater, he tried to summon up enough determination to counter the despair that threatened to overwhelm him.
There would probably be hell to pay tomorrow, though Byakuya thought he might get lucky in that regard. The imbecile might not remember much about the end of the party, nor about how he got home and he might not connect waking up on the floor with getting drunk at Aizen’s little get-together. In Byakuya’s opinion, Yammy might actually be stupid enough not to recall anything at all. He also doubted that the container of water would last long, even if the moron had the presence of mind to drink it. He would probably break it instead by tossing it against a wall, since it was likely he’d have the headache of a lifetime in the morning.
Byakuya had to be in his office early to help Karin with paperwork, so he might actually manage to evade his hung-over ‘master’ for a while. Unfortunately, he’d eventually have to deal with the aftermath of Yammy’s binge sooner or later. If anything, making the brute wait for him all day might just make Yammy more irritable. The resulting evening might be far more unpleasant than dealing with the bastard's attentions sooner in the day. Perhaps it might be worthwhile to take his lunch break at home and get the whole thing over with rather than avoid Yammy and suffer even greater pain and humiliation later on. It was something to consider.Byakuya had to be in his office early to help Karin with paperwork, so he might actually manage to evade his hung-over ‘master’ for a while. Unfortunately, he’d eventually have to deal with the aftermath of Yammy’s binge sooner or later. If anything, making the brute wait for him all day might just make Yammy more irritable. The resulting evening might be far more unpleasant than dealing with the bastard's attentions sooner in the day. Perhaps it might be worthwhile to take his lunch break at home and get the whole thing over with rather than avoid Yammy and suffer even greater pain and humiliation later on. It was something to consider.
But at least for tonight, he’d been spared the bastard’s attentions and Byakuya was deeply grateful for that. Renji was also back to normal and while that opened up new, unpleasant possibilities, he couldn’t help but be glad for that as well. Now it was up to him to keep Renji from suffering as he had. He was a Kuchiki, head of one of the most powerful Noble Houses and he had an obligation. He’d failed Renji by not defeating Yammy when he had the chance. He couldn’t fail Renji again.
Byakuya resolved, as he leaned back in the tub and closed his eyes, letting the steam from the hot water curl around him, that he could not, would not let anyone ever use his family or his subordinates against him or worse, abuse them because of him. That included doing his best to keep Renji from ever finding out what had happened with his soul-less body. Only two others, Yammy and Szayel, knew about the rape and if the amount of fear on Szayel’s face tonight was real, he suspected the scientist had far bigger things to deal with than a request from Yammy for another ‘session’.
Groaning inwardly, he knew he’d have to keep Yammy content and convince the hulking bastard that he had no interest in Renji’s well-being. Preferably, he grimaced inwardly, by keeping his ‘master’ sated, at least until Yammy lost interest in Renji and found some other painful way to remind his ‘Chicchai-Hime’ that he qualified as property.
Byakuya sank deeper into the bath and wished the water could wash away his fears for both Renji and for himself as easily.

I never intended to do all theses Household Changes Chapters and they are sort of a last minute addition. However, I do feel they are important so updates might be slightly slower as Black Fox and I work them out and tag them onto the end here.
This chapter was a large collaborated piece. There will be another Chapter with Harrible and Toshiro (which Black Fox is writing since I have a bitch of a time working with these two) and one with Gin and Unohana. A wrap up chapter or two and Part 1 is done.
Now here is the real problem. I really want to write part 2, thus completing this story, but I kind of get the impression not many people are reading this (an average 6 reviews a chapter are not that many). I got a munchkin to care for now and if people are not interested than I am not so sure I will take the time to write out the next part as it takes a lot of time to write something this big.
So here is this weeks question: How many people are actually reading this? Is it worth working some writing time into my schedule or should I turn my attention towards a different project?
I suppose Shiba Kukaku could still be running around outside the Rukongai Districts. Shinigami affairs never really meant anything to that family and the hollows never really extended their attack beyond the walls except to claim territory for their dens and chase down the running Shinigami worthy of Claiming.
Ichigo and his crew as very busy on Earth fighting the swarm that have shown up there. Remember that Aizen ascended so his power is far greater than it was in the Manga and a fight between Ichigo and Aizen in Soul Society would murder million as the people of Soul Society would be crushed under their battling reiatsu. In this version Ichigo lost his fight with Ulquiorra, he never made it to Fake Kurakura, and thus never learned how to merge with Zangetsu, thus arguably making him weaker in this version than in the Manga.
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Prize of Victory