Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Prize of Victory 2
By : NovaAlexandria
Category: Bleach > General
Views: 56251 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach nor make a profit from this story
Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Warnings: Mental torture, physical torture and rape(not of byakuya though).

Soul Shatter
He woke slowly, his mind muddled and confused. His body dully ached and he lay on something soft and warm, not like the more firm mattress of his futon. The room was quiet, with only the low hum of machines to break the silence. No, wait… there was a third sound, like someone other than himself breathing and he tried to think back to determine why he was here in this strange place. The last thing he remembered was blistering agony and overwhelming humiliation. He vaguely recalled Senbonzakura’s frantic voice in his mind. There was nothing after that and he took that as a sign he ought to be grateful for whatever had blotted it out.
He blinked his eyes open, but shut them quickly again as his world and the bed that he lay on spun like a child’s top. After a moment to regroup, he tried again. It took a minute, but eventually his sense of equilibrium kicked in. As he suspected, he was in one of the recovery rooms at the 4th Division. What he hadn’t expected to see was a shadow sitting in the chair at the small side table. He couldn’t make out any details, as his eyes stubbornly refused to focus, but he was sure someone was there, even if he could only detect them because their silhouette was darker than the rest of the room.
‘Who?’ he wondered groggily.
It couldn’t be anyone from his family, not even a servant since no one associated with the Kuchiki name would ever exhibit such an undignified, slouched posture. The body shifted and the unknown person stretched before looking his way and making a little surprised motion as they realized he was awake.
“Bya-san, you’re awake!”
‘Ah, Ajuga-chan. Of course.’
She was the only one who ever spoke to him in such a way, managing to sound both respectful and impertinent at the same time. While his eyes weren’t doing well, his hearing was still intact. He also recognized her voice, though it sounded a little tinny, as if she was speaking into a metal can.
“Don’t try to move yet,” she ordered sternly, moving the chair over and taking one of his hands in hers.
Her flesh burned against his skin, which informed him of a few unpleasant things. He didn’t need anyone to tell him the chill in his body was likely a result of severe blood loss. He felt so weak and still slightly dizzy. It wasn’t the first time he’d awakened feeling like this. He had felt the same way in the aftermath of his battle with Kurosaki, and the subsequence stabbing through his chest by Gin.
“I need to get Unohana-Taichou. Nod if you understand me and promise not to try and move.” Her voice told him she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He gave her a small nod, indicating he understood. He would never admit it, but nodding was all he was capable of now, being too weak to move his arms.
“Alright, I will be back,” she promised, patting his hand gently and rising from her chair to retrieve Unohana.
He was exhausted, his body in the throes of a recovery that hadn’t completely happened yet. He didn’t recall falling back to sleep, but the next time he woke up it was to sunlight streaming in through the window and the chair next to the desk was now empty. He tried to move to sit up, pausing when something crumpled in his hand. Abandoning the attempt to sit up, he unfolded the paper instead. The kanji were perfect and beautiful and he knew the writing belonged to Ajuga. He expected to read something like a get-well missive. Instead, Ajuga gave him a full page of information: how long he’d been out, when he’d arrived (or rather, when someone had dragged him in), what his state was to the best of her knowledge, and perhaps the biggest, somewhat almost satisfying piece of information, that Yammy had finally been punished for doing this to him.
While cheering him in the short term, the information held little consolation for him. Yammy had cannibalized a family member and horribly maimed a servant. Nothing could change that. Well, if Orihime was involved, the servant might have gotten her ear back, assuming his family had brought her here instead of to the usual physician. Helpfully, Ajuga had written out the answers to most of his questions, as if anticipating his concerns.
That surprised him at first, but he concluded that she had attended Jushiro often enough over the years during his stays at the 4th Division and therefore knew the most common questions someone waking up in this type of situation might ask. Perhaps the part that warmed him the most, not that he would ever admit it, was that she had promised she would be back after dinner, giving him an approximate time as well.
“I see you’re with us again, Byakuya-san.”
He turned his head towards the doorway as Unohana walked up to his bedside, the picture of serenity.
“Can you see things clearly?” she asked.
He gave a slight nod of his head.
“Any shadowing?”
That earned her a shake of his head.
“Strange colours?”
Shake.
“Spots?”
Shake
“Blurriness?”
Shake.
“Do you have a headache?”
Nod.
“Mild?”
Nod.
“Does anything else hurt?”
He nodded reluctantly.
“Now, I am slowly going to carefully manipulate your body. Give a nod the moment you feel any pain or a shake of your head if it feels fine. I want you to indicate with your fingers how much it hurts: one for a mild hurt up to five fingers for a sharp pain,” she instructed and smiled at him. He recognized the smile, the dangerous one that indicated she was serious and that it was in one’s best interest to comply if one wanted to live.
A part of him felt honoured that she’d pulled it out to use on him.
“Please put your noble pride aside and answer honestly. I do not want to see headshakes and ‘1’s’ when you are feeling a’ 4’ or a ‘5’. Pain is an indication of injury or infection and even a small ache can be a prelude to a bigger, life-threatening problem. Are we clear on this point?”
He gave Unohana a firm nod, indicating he understood and would do as ordered. Byakuya was thankful Ajuga wasn’t here. It was much easier to be truthful when he didn’t need to worry about frightening the young woman. ‘Young woman’, indeed. He couldn’t really call her a ‘girl’ any longer. The child’s body had rapidly grown and changed as the years had passed. Ajuga was almost as tall as her mother was now and she might even reach her father’s height before she finished maturing.
“Let’s begin.”
Slowly, she went over his body. Despite himself, he still let out an odd hiss of pain and reluctantly admitted that there were a good number of fours and fives. Most of it was, thankfully, ones and twos, but a few spots still hurt, like the place on his shoulder where Yammy had impaled Senbonzakura, going right through to the scapula and snapping a rib.
Thinking of his Zanpakuto brought up the question of its location. He impatiently went through with the rest of the exam before grabbing Unohana’s hand before she could pull it away from him. He traced out the kanji for sword. ‘Sword’ was easier than trying to trace out the complicated kanji that either ‘Zanpakuto’ or Senbonzakura’s name required.
“I am afraid I do not know where Senbonzakura is,” she confessed. “He might still be at the Estate.”
He nodded to indicate he understood, turning his gaze aside, hoping that Yammy hadn’t done something foolish to his Zanpakuto. Unohana moved the bed into an upright position during his examination. The new angle allowed him to see the many papers strewn on the desk. Unohana followed his gaze and she smiled gently.
“Ajuga-chan. She has spent hours every day here since she learned your family admitted you. She was very upset over what had happened. I think she made these for you, but I will leave them for her to present when she gets back. You need to rest and recover your strength.”
Byakuya nodded in agreement, beginning to fade. The examination had burned up what little energy he had. Unohana carefully reclined the bed back to its flat position and sleep quickly found him. The third time he woke up, the sky beyond the window was dark, and Ajuga was slumped in the chair at the desk, clearly asleep. Another note lay folded in his hand. Unlike the last one, this note was a ‘get better soon’ letter. Her calligraphy was truly the work of a Master. The gift she had made for him years ago hung in a frame on the wall in his private quarters, which, thankfully, had never been breached by Yammy again after the time he’d been clipped by the beetle’s horn, the brute tending to him personally.
Exhaustion threatened to overcome him again, and he didn’t fight it. Now was the perfect chance to rest and recover, to regain his strength before circumstances tossed him back into the hornets’ nest. Punished or not, Yammy would never change his ways. He had no doubt that his Master was going to be furious over Aizen’s discipline, and that anger would need an outlet. That outlet would be him. Yammy probably wouldn’t beat him again soon, with Aizen’s warning so fresh in his pea-sized brain. Instead, Byakuya would end up pinned to the nearest surface, the Claim reinforced violently and repeatedly until Yammy felt like he’d learned who was in charge. If anything, Aizen’s interference would make things worse for him. Aizen probably knew that, which was probably why the tyrant hadn’t really done anything before, either in his case or in the case of the others suffering similar abuse.
Byakuya drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few days, staying coherent for longer periods as the week wore on. Sometimes Ajuga was there when he awakened, other times not. Jushiro visited him on one occasion, as did Karin, Orihime and even Renji, with both of the twins in tow.
That had been a surprise. He hadn’t seen much of his former Fukutaichou over the years and it was a great relief to see the redhead returned to his old self, and thoroughly wrapped around the fingers of Szayel’s twins. There was no doubt about the affection his former subordinate held for his charges. That didn’t surprise him. He remembered several conversations with his sister about the young man. Rukia and Renji’s upbringing, if one could call it that, took place in one of the worst districts in the Rukongai, where blood meant little when it came to family. That Renji had quickly adopted them, taking on the role of protecting guardian, if not an uncle, thanks to Aizen’s continued harassment of their father and the constant pressure put on the Seventh Espada seemed a good sign. Byakuya couldn’t help but to think that, despite the tattoos, Renji would make an excellent father one day, assuming he ever found someone in the hell that Aizen had created out of the Seireitei and Szayel let him pursue any such relationship.
Renji had kept the tone of their conversation light, but Byakuya could sense a new gravity in the younger Shinigami. He also exhibited a wariness that bordered on paranoia, but anyone that resided in the former 12th Division probably had that ingrained in them. There was no telling what might pop out of one of Kurotsuchi’s old laboratories. When Renji had determined that he’d stayed as long as was safe, he’d reached out and clasped his former Taichou’s arm, his grip steady, and it almost seemed like he wanted to impart some of his strength to his superior. Byakuya hesitated only for a second before squeezing back, noble pride, as Unohana called it, be damned.
His reward was a wide, almost boyish grin, one he’d thought lost a decade ago and though his face betrayed nothing, he heart sang when he saw it.
Unfortunately, his reprieve couldn’t last forever.
Eventually, Byakuya recovered enough to return home. Yammy even let him be for two days, allowing him to rest and recover in his room undisturbed before a nervous servant came to him with the unwelcome news that Yammy wanted to see him. The servants dressed him in the new attire the massive thug designed for him: tight-fitting leather pants and a fishnet shirt. They tied his hair back into a ponytail and reapplied the leather straps with clips to his ankles, thighs, waist, wrist, biceps and neck. The pants were uncomfortable and abraded his still-sore hips, but the fishnet top was loose enough that it didn’t aggravate his bandaged wounds. The mesh felt strange against his skin and he wished he could go without it.
“Get out,” Yammy ordered the help as he entered the room.
The servants that had just finished dressing him scurried out quickly and fearfully while others quickly rushed in and set up a table with food and drink before fleeing as well. Yammy took a seat on the large cushion the servants set out for him.
Byakuya felt his body go rigid as the brute’s presence violated his private sanctuary and his treasured personal belongings. His quarters were going to reek of spilled sake and food for days, not to mention his Master’s rank stench. Such thoughts instantly ceased when Yammy took something from his belt and laid it across his lap.
“Sit,” the brute ordered, indicating the cushion beside him.
He kneeled down on the cushion next to Yammy and forced himself to tear his gaze away from Senbonzakura. Yammy got upset when he paid attention to others and he had a feeling the situation was already volatile. He didn’t need his Master going off the deep end and killing or maiming more of the residents of the Kuchiki Manor just because the massive bastard was jealous of a Zanpakuto.
“Aizen-Kami told me you got to be close to your Zanpakuto to summon it. So summon it,” Yammy snarled, thrusting Senbonzakura against his chest.
He took the blade, feeling Senbonzakura rush into his mind, demanding to know if he was well. He assured his companion he was before reluctantly manifesting his blade’s spirit beside them.
“You can speak for my Chicchai-Hime right?” Yammy demanded.
“I can,” Senbonzakura reluctantly admitted.
“Good,” Yammy attempted to purr, but it sounded more like a disgusting grunt. “From now on, when there is no one else to communicate for you, you’re gonna summon him to speak for you,” he ordered, pulling tightly on the Claim. “Understand?”
Byakuya nodded, nauseated at the very idea of being forced to share Senbonzakura’s presence with such an uncouth individual. What he liked even less was the lecherous, contemplative look Yammy gave his Zanpakuto. Yammy reached forward and his hand went right through Senbonzakura’s manifestation. Byakuya still felt his soul dirtied by that oaf’s meaty paw.
Grunting, Yammy pulled his hand back and looked about the room while he helped himself to the meal that had been laid out. Without a word, Byakuya filled the empty sake cup. He could feel how precarious Yammy’s mood seemed. Even after the beating he’d received from Aizen, nothing could quell the furnace of rage that burned in the Espada’s soul. The fire remained banked most of the time, but the smallest spark at the right time could blow it up into a raging inferno and once ignited, his temper took a long time to cool.
“Your room is boring as fuck, Chicchai-Hime. You need to liven it up. The only artwork you got in here is more freaking writing,” Yammy snorted as he eyed the walls with their collection of calligraphy and poems.
One piece must have caught his eye for he suddenly smirked, rose to his feet and marching towards the framed picture of Kanji and a Sakura tree mounted on the wall, the very picture Ajuga had handcrafted for him several years ago.
He quickly interjected himself between his Master and the artwork before the Espada could do any damage to it. Yammy sneered at him and simply tossed him aside to land in a sprawl on the floor before taking the picture down from the wall and holding it as if ready to tear it in two.
“This thing means something to you Chicchai-Hime?”
“It was a gift from Ajuga Jaegerjaquez,” Senbonzakura explained for him.
“Huh, who knew the she-runt had such a talent,” Yammy grunted as he set the picture down on the nearby dresser. He then snatched a smaller portrait from it instead, to Byakuya’s horror. “This bitch I know,” Yammy snarled before snapping the whole thing in half and shredding the photo before Byakuya could try to stop him.
Pain tore through his heart as the monster obliterated the portrait of Hisana, the only one left in existence, before his very eyes. An expression of surprise and shock crossed Yammy’s broad, ugly features as the overwhelming grief struck him through the Claim, so much so that he almost stumbled.
Without a thought, Byakuya shoved Yammy aside and gathered the torn fragments in his trembling hands, desperately hoping he would wake up or that the scraps of paper and glass would somehow reform into the picture of his late wife. He had not realized he was crying until the first tear landed on the back of his hand.
Yammy just stared at him stunned as overwhelming sorrow deluged the Claim before regaining his wits.
“Didn’t realize you loved that little tramp so much. If I knew that I wouldn’t have let her escape so easily,” Yammy laughed nastily.
The Tenth’s vicious comment briefly stilled Byakuya’s grief-ridden mind as the shock flowed through him, before his anguish turned to blinding rage. He had silently put up with everything Yammy had inflicted upon him through over the years. The rape, the humiliations, the deaths of a large number of servants and some family… all of it paled in comparison to this one, awful violation. He desperately wished that he could speak, so that he could send a string of curses at the monster, as well as shovel some knowledge into the vast empty cavern between Yammy’s ears. He wasn’t even sure where it was that he would start. Maybe he could begin by pointing out that the picture the beast had destroyed was of his late wife and not his adopted sister, as any idiot with any skills at observation ought to know.
Hisana had been far softer than Rukia. She had been delicate and her fragility showed in her picture. Hisana was nothing like Rukia, and once he had permitted himself to get to know his adopted sister, the differences between the two were glaringly obvious.
Yammy wasn’t taken off guard by his rage for long, and he cursed the Claim to high hell as it prevented him from being able to attack Yammy in the way he truly wished, with Senbonzakura‘s Bankai. Kido was the best he could do and without being able to chant the incantation, it was only strong enough to sting the Espada, which only pissed him off. If he’d been thinking rationally, he would have known this, but he’d abandoned rationality in favour of rage. He launched spell after spell at the bastard that had invaded his private sanctum and destroyed one of his most precious memories. His room was demolished under the sudden Kido storm as he let his rage play out. A large number of his possessions lay smouldering and the walls splintered from his display.
“What’s got your tail in a knot?”
Yammy asked this with a laugh. The great lout seemed more amused by his outrage than angered, as the Kido did nothing more than irritate him. The stinging eventually annoyed him enough for Yammy to raise his fist to Byakuya. The Shinigami found himself backhanded so hard he collapsed to the floor. The storm of Kido subsided abruptly as his ears rang with the hit and his vision went briefly black.
“That was not Kuchiki Rukia, but Kuchiki Hisana,” Senbonzakura answered sharply, rage in his Zanpakuto’s voice.
“Who the fuck was she?”
“Byakuya-sama’s late wife,” Senbonzakura answered softly, mindful of his master’s pain.
“Che, and here I figured that I finally stamped out the last little bit of your fire. I guess not!” Yammy laughed. “Still, I can’t beat the shit out of you like you deserve ‘cause Kami-sama told me I couldn’t punish you like that again.”
Yammy suddenly roared, releasing a small Bala that ignited the small pile of scrap paper, turning it into ash, along with a portion of the floor and the wall. Byakuya could only stare at the pile of cinders in continued shock and grief. The last portrait of his late wife was gone with no chance of recovering or mending it.
Ignoring his growing headache from the sharp blow to his face, he scrambled to the small pile of ash, staring at it in pure shock. His hands trembled as he slowly cupped the ash in his hands. He didn’t even realize he was weeping until the falling tears started leaving tiny craters in the ash below him. Senbonzakura knelt down beside him, resting an arm over his shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort him.
“So, since I can’t beat the shit out of you like you deserve, how the hell should I punish you?” Yammy puzzled aloud, more to himself than to his ‘pet.’
Byakuya ignored him, not the least bit interested in what Yammy had to say. His entire body shook in misery as he crouched over the remnants, the last thing he’d had to remember her. There was nothing left of Hisana now.
“Can you make him solid?”
Byakuya felt a spike of fear as Yammy’s grunted question forced his attention back to the situation at hand. He fought not to answer, but the amount of force Yammy exerted over the Claim forced a nod from him. He felt Senbonzakura stiffen next to him.
“Do it,” Yammy commanded.
He shared a horrified look with his Zanpakuto, even as the Claim forced him to comply. Senbonzakura lost his shimmering appearance and solidified. Byakuya could feel the sheer wrongness of this suffocating him. This was simply not done! In fact, Senbonzakura declared as much to Yammy, his voice calm though Byakuya could detect the blade’s nervousness.
“Shut the fuck up,” came the response, “…before I make you slice your throat while your Master watches.”
“Your Claim is not with me,” Senbonzakura pointed out coldly
Yammy scowled in anger, and for a moment, Byakuya thought the Espada was going to club him in the head. Instead, the Espada’s look of anger morphed into something much more sadistic and cruel.
“You know, Aizen-Kami said I couldn’t beat your pretty little face in since he needs you to help fight the Swarm, but he didn’t say anything about your blade,” Yammy smirked at him.
Byakuya instantly tried to unsummon Senbonzakura, but Yammy clamped so firmly down on the Claim that he gasped in pain. Senbonzakura quickly drew his blade to defend himself, but Yammy simply grabbed his wrist in one meaty palm before the blade could fully leave the sheath. There was a sickening ‘crunch’ as his Zanpakuto’s wrist shattered and the blade clattered to the ground. Senbonzakura let out a strangled cry of pain.
“Let’s see what you look like under this stupid mask, eh?”
Senbonzakura sidestepped Yammy’s sweeping grab for his mask, but that was about all he could do with one wrist still captured. Even that small amount of movement pulled another sound of pain, one that turned into a soft cry as Yammy suddenly jerked him up off the ground by that same, wounded wrist until his feet dangled several inches from the ground. Senbonzakura struggled like a fish on a line, trying to get his arm with it’s broken wrist free of Yammy’s grasp, but couldn’t break away.
“If you don’t stop wrigglin’, worm, I’ll break all your bones and make your master hold you here so you can watch while I fuck him until his thighs are stained red with his own blood. Got it?” Yammy snarled, tossing the threat into the Zanpakuto’s face.
Senbonzakura went limp and Yammy set him back down on his feet, but didn’t release him. This time the Zanpakuto spirit stilled as Yammy tore away the helmet’s faceplate and tossed it aside. No one had ever seen Senbonzakura’s face other than Byakuya. Others, such as his Grandfather, had met Senbonzakura when they had been training towards Bankai, and more recently his entire household, which was mortifying. This overstepped so many boundaries…Byakuya could barely think straight.
“My Chicchai-Hime is far more alluring, despite how closely you resemble each other,” Yammy spat, his appraisal less than happy-sounding. “Still… not bad.”
Senbonzakura flinched as Yammy cupped the side of his face and ran his fingers through his hair, snapping the hair tie in the process so the long strands fell down his back.
“Your hair is much coarser. Your skin is much darker. Your eyes ain’t nearly as full of hidden defiance and they’re freaking blue instead of steel grey.”
“Please release me,” Senbonzakura demanded, his voice steady despite the fact he seemed as offended as Byakuya over the entire affair. The fact the blade was hurt didn’t help matters either.
They trained together in their inner world, so Byakuya knew pain wasn’t a new sensation to Senbonzakura. However, he was ill-prepared for an outsider to paw at him. Byakuya saw it first, the shift in Yammy’s eyes he knew all too well. He threw his entire force, weakened as it was from his slow recovery at Yammy‘s hands, against the Claim, mentally clawing and scrambling against it. He hadn’t struggled like this since his first month of slavery, and this felt far more desperate to Byakuya than that time. He wasn’t Yammy’s intended victim this time around
Yammy threw his ‘pet’ an amused grin before turning his attention back to the trapped man in his grip. Byakuya tried to shout out a mental warning, but Yammy doubled down on the Claim so strongly that Byakuya’s vision tunnelled and went black around the edges. The monster ordered him to stay still, to watch, and to be silent, all without a spoken word. Byakuya hated the fact that his ‘master’ didn’t need to speak to him to force his obedience.
“I can’t hurt my Chicchai-Hime, at least not visibly. But, causing you pain and distress hurts him as well, doesn’t it?” Yammy’s smirk widened to cover most of his face. “And Kami won’t be able to see the damage, will he?”
Senbonzakura seemed to catch onto what was going on now, and shot Byakuya a panicked look. Yammy punched his captive hard, knocking him off of his feet and would have sent him to the ground had it not been for the grip on his wrist.
“Pay attention to me,” Yammy snarled. “I can’t discipline my pet directly, so let’s see how well he listens when it’s his little sword friend who’s hurting!”
Byakuya could feel his energy draining as he threw everything he could against the Claim while Yammy also forced him to burn the energy holding Senbonzakura in the physical plane. Weakened thusly, he could do nothing but helplessly kneel and watch as Yammy tore the armour off of Senbonzakura and forced him chest first over the table, knocking plates of food aside. The panic and fear rolled off of his partner in the face of such an assault. To the best of Byakuya’s knowledge, no Zanpakuto had ever been used in such a terrible, unspeakable manner.
“Just remember, Chicchai-Hime, that it’s your fault that your little buddy here is suffering,” Yammy sneered at him.
The pain in Senbonzakura’s eyes as Yammy forced Byakuya to watch this horrifying degradation ripped at his soul. His only consolation was that his Zanpakuto managed not to cry or scream in pain as Yammy forced himself upon him, into him.
“Huh, not nearly as nice.”
The lack of appreciable pleasure didn’t make the brute stop, unfortunately.
“I wonder,” Yammy mused, but didn’t finish the sentence.
Byakuya felt his soul suddenly flare with burning-hot agony and this time Senbonzakura did cry out in a mixture of pain and shocked pleasure. Each forward thrust of Yammy’s body into his Zanpakuto sent a wave of fire into his soul and his mouth opened in a horrified shriek as he felt the connection to his Zanpakuto waver.
“STOP!” Senbonzakura screamed.
“Why should I?” Yammy snarled, but he did pause.
For several seconds Senbonzakura just panted for breath, his entire body coated in sweat except for where blood tickled down his thighs. Byakuya, covered in sweat, his body, his soul and mind raked in agony, panted desperately for breath.
“It’s destroying our bond,” Senbonzakura finally managed to gasp out, just before it seemed as if Yammy had decided to continue.
“So?”
“If I am separated from Byakuya-sama, I will cease to exist…. and his soul will shatter,” Senbonzakura answered in a tortured whisper.
Yammy’s face scrunched up in confusion for a second.
“You mean like Szayel’s pet used to be?”
Senbonzakura nodded his head.
“Hmm,” Yammy seemed to think about it for a second, before he continued thrusting.
This time there was no physical pain in his soul, so that at least meant that Yammy had given up trying to Claim his Zanpakuto. There was no guarantee that a Claim might have actually sundered their bond, but it wasn’t something Byakuya wanted to test and the relief from that pain was welcome. After such an assault though, he was mentally and physically exhausted. He didn’t have the energy to fight Yammy’s hold on him any longer and slumped against it. Truthfully, he feared that more resistance might encourage the monster to try Claiming Senbonzakura again. His vision started to darken and Yammy must have gotten his amusement’s worth of the act because he finished a minute later.
“Aren’t you two a pretty sight,” he sniggered, putting himself away and adjusting his hakama. “Alright, Chicchai Hime… You can let your little friend go home.”
Byakuya quickly dispelled Senbonzakura before Yammy could change his mind or think up another way to hurt and humiliate them. He felt his soul wrench as they fully rejoined and all of his Zanpakuto’s pain, humiliation, and horror merged into his injured soul, further damaging it.
“I trust you will be more attentive, Chicchai-Hime. If you are not, I will take my frustration out on your little friend again while you watch. Or…” Yammy suddenly smirked evilly, “make you do it”.
He froze up at the suggestion. It was such a vile thought! Not even Aizen had ever dared to sink so low as to inflict that on one of the captives. It would be infinitely worse than when Yammy had made Renji’s shuffling body mount him. At least Renji had been soulless and hadn’t had to suffer as well. Yammy forcing him to assault his own Zanpakuto would be the equivalent of self-mutilation, feeling everything twice-over as it happened
“I trust you will remember this lesson,” Yammy warned before fixing the rest of his clothing and storming away. On his way out, the monster deliberately stepped on the remains of Hisana’s picture, tracking the ashes behind him and smearing them in gray streaks across the floor.
He couldn’t even pretend to be noble with the horror that had just occurred. He fought back tears until he managed to crawl his way over to what was left of his futon, where he finally did break down and rush into his inner world.
Byakuya found Senbonzakura shivering under their cherry tree, the one he’d managed to regrow over the last few years. To the Shinigami’s sorrow, it looked as if someone had poured kerosene over the roots. The once-healthy bark had withered and curled up, and the tree’s branches had lost all of their fluttering green leaves. Most of the tiny patch of grass he’d worked to salvage had turned a sickly yellow as it died. After years of hard work, of progress to rebuild and put his inner world back on a firmer footing, the last few hours had reduced the place back to rubble.
He could only hold Senbonzakura as his Zanpakuto‘s body shook against his own. Never in a million years had Byakuya guessed that Yammy would discover a way to attack his very soul like this, but the brute had, and now the beast knew how to go about doing it again...
He’d bent during the long years of training and the subservience Yammy had forced upon him. He’d done it to protect his family and those that relied on him, but he’d never truly given in. Now his very sanity was on the line and Byakuya admitted that he’d finally arrived at his breaking point. If this kind of torture continued, if Yammy were to persist in beating and raping him physically and spiritually, he would crack and let madness take him. The pain, oh god the pain of losing his last piece of Hisana, not to mention the agony the hulking bastard inflicted on him by trying to Claim Senbonzakura, felt like a red-hot knife in the gut. How much worse must it have been for his Zanpakuto, to have to experience the overwhelming pain combined with the hateful pleasure Yammy’s Claims always induced, even if the bastard hadn’t gone through with it?
‘Somehow, some way, we will find a way to flay the meat from his very bones,’ he vowed.
Senbonzakura only nodded in agreement, but his trembling never ceased. His Zanpkauto could have taken a beating, but rape… His last sanctuary had been annihilated more than any room in the Estate ever had. Senbonzakura’s blood soaked into the wooden floor where it would remain, a silent reminder of what would happen should he even twitch a finger the wrong way. Yammy would make sure the stain remained there, in his private quarters, even if it meant the floors remained dirty. As he bleakly looked around the shambles of his inner world, he felt the last bit of defiance die, snuffed out like a pinched candle. Only smoke and ash remained behind.
Kuchiki Byakuya’s only recourse now was to try to submit in order to survive and thus ensure the survival of his Zanpakuto. The small spark of hope he’d managed to keep alive fizzled out, replaced with the knowledge that no rescue was possible, not as long as Yammy lived and the brute had so far proved too strong for anyone or anything to kill.
Even if it meant he had to destroy what was left of his pride in the process, even if it meant he had to suffer through every whim Yammy had, he vowed that he would make sure Yammy never again touched Senbonzakura in such a way.

I swear, this is the darkest this story will get. This will also be the last chapter that showcases what Byakuya is put through. Well, I did promise that Byakuya wasn’t going to be the one target this chapter.
Kain: I have no plans on implementing anything past the Arrancar arc into this story. I honestly still don’t know how I feel about this new Quincy arc, the full bring arc was just pure crap, and we still don’t know enough about any of them to really work with it reliably.
Mudbloodmalfoy: I refuse to answer any question as to how the story is going to end and who is going to live and die in the final battle, other than to say that Yammy will, indeed, die in a very horrible and painful way.
Anon: but if you punch me I might not be able to finish the story, and Byakuya would never get his revenge on Yammy.

This Weeks Question: When do you think it will be safe for me to come out of my bunker?

Next Chapter: Orihime invites her friends over for dinner, and we get some loving sexing. All in all, a light Chapter to brush the dark one off. In fact, I may post it sooner so people can wash the dark taste of this Chapter out of their mouths.
- 14
- 15
- 16
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Prize of Victory 2	By : NovaAlexandria Category: Bleach > General Views: 56251 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach nor make a profit from this story

Prize of Victory 2