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Hymns to the Wind	By : BookMaggot Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2057 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I do not make money. I do not pass Go. I do not Collect 200 dollars.

Chapter List
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A/N: okay I know I said like over a week ago I would have updated... all did not go as planned >_< but I am getting to the others and hopefully they'll all be up by tonight... egads I really shouldn't make deadlines for my self... I am horrible at those :(
In regards to this chapter, I am NOT sure about it, any an all constructive criticism is more than welcome, thanks in advance and hope you like it :)
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Precious Mourning
Days turned to weeks and soon the sweet scent disappeared, and Byakuya slowly let go of the ache to hear the music. The anniversary of his wife’s death was looming closer, and in the spiral of his grief he soon forgot about the sweet sounds.
Upon the day of her anniversary he locked his offices and headed home, keeping to himself on the busy streets. He closed the doors to her room and lit the incense, kneeling before the smiling face of his dear wife. On this day he wanted only to remember her, the wonderful moments they shared, and the first time they had met…
The sound of a flute whispered over the winds.
At first Byakuya wasn’t certain he’d heard right but there was no mistaking it. It was a different song, happy, sparkly, fast, loud…
It was annoying. There was no emotion in it, there was no feeling in the notes, and it was a cacophony of brightly lit notes that ruined the mood of this precious and sacred day.
He felt red anger rising in his soul. For years his anger had not only been controlled but viciously contained. It was easier to avoid the confrontation but this… he barely knew the man! Byakuya was noble but he would not stand for such impudence.
Grabbing his coat he stormed from the house and flash-stepped to the forest, his hand tightly held on Senbonzakura’s hilt. He would cut him down for meddling in something he could never understand. How dare he presume he would need anything from him on this day? He had no right to share in this! No one had!
He came through the trees but the flutist didn’t turn to look at him. Byakuya charged, brandishing his sword. He had to stop him!
His sword sliced, aiming for the soft shoulder, but it cut through air. He started and looked up to find the man standing precariously on the branch of a tree, and still playing.
His fury ignited and he charged again, aiming at his legs. His blade slammed into the tree. Without missing a beat, he kicked off against the branch and flipped over now aiming his sword at the man’s tengai. The Flutist ducked effortlessly as the blade swiped, and kept playing without pause. The notes were grating on his nerves now, where once they brought joy and serenity now all he could feel was burning anger tearing up through him.
And the anger at the flutist turned to the world as he continued his assault, and failing miserably. The fury was directed at the unfairness and injustice of losing a wife he barely had. Of staying devoted and still getting kicked in the teeth, and the cry that tore through him drowned out the music but it couldn’t drown out the endless suffering of watching her die. And the music fed that flame.
The flutist leapt clear of him, and the music stopped.
Byakuya stood panting in the middle of the forest. The cool air drifting into his soul, and just as the music had stopped so had his anger drained away, leaving a hollow shell of emptiness and loss in its wake. His legs trembled, and despite his best efforts he collapsed. His sword still gripped in his hand he stared at the forest floor. He blinked his vision blurred, and drops of rain fell to the dry forest bedding…
He blinked.
Not rain…
….but tears
“Damn you…” he muttered wiping his eyes angrily, “Who gave you the right?” he yelled at him, “I never shared this with you! You will never understand this!”
There was a long stifling silence and for a moment he wondered if the man had left.
But Byakuya felt the flutist kneel in front of him, some small part of his bitter heart was grateful for his presence. But his pride prevented him from looking at him. A bandaged hand hovered a breath away from his cheek, but he was so spent, so angry he didn’t think much of it. The fingers brushed his face. Byakuya started and finally looked up at the flutist.
His tengai was removed.
But the face was covered in more worn bandages. A black sash over his eyes, and only his lips and ears were open. Was he blind? He thought, but even if he was Byakuya felt some anger start to drain away. He too reached up in turn and touched the black locks that had escaped the many bandages.
They were thick and oily.
The flutist leaned forwards, and gently let their foreheads touch. The hand on his face brushed away the drying tears tenderly, and also held him in place. His breath smelled sweet, and through the spent energy Byakuya pressed closer, sharing in the little heat the flutist offered, partly wishing for more.
The small comfort he received from a nameless man held more meaning to him than the entire Gotei thirteenth sympathies.
He couldn’t understand why. But he was grateful.
The hand slid away and Byakuya watched quietly as the flutist turned around and disappeared into the forest. For a moment he stayed, watching the spot where he’d disappeared through the trees, and with the anger drained away, and the bitter loneliness banished, he felt something akin to peace settle close to his heart..
He stared at his fingers, stained black where he had touched the hair, and sniffed it tenderly. It smelled of soot and oil, and he frowned leaving more questions that answer. Finally he rose, seethed his sword and headed out.
And as he left his favourite song followed him out, the winds carrying the haunting tune above the trees and gently encasing him in this moment. All was not perfect but for now he had found peace.
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Hymns to the Wind