Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Whisper To Me	By : Strailo Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 9093 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, Kuroshitsuji or any of the characters. their respective owners do. I make absolutely no money from this or any fanfiction I write.

Chapter List
- 30
- 31
- 32
Title: Whisper to Me

Fandom: Bleach/Kuroshitsuji

Part: 30

Characters: Byakuya, Ichigo, some Grell

Word count: 2,190

Warnings: none, hints of past

AN: And we introduce some more of Ichigo's family history. *coos* Okay, so to say the family history goes something like this:
Ichigo:

Mother: Masaki

Father: Isshin

Siblings: Karin and Yuzu
Break down:

Isshin:

Father: Officially – Shiba head, really: Yamamoto

Mother: Shiba Head

Siblings: Kaien, Kukaku, and Ganju
Masaki:

Mother: Second Wife of Byakuya's father

Father: Byakuya's father

Siblings: Byakuya
You got it? Yes? We're all clear right? Good. Wonderful. I've explained it. Or at least explained it as well as I can remind it.
Enjoy!
*~*~*~*
“This place is really dusty,” Ichigo sighed lightly as Grell stood by the window, peeking out of the thick curtains that they had just slipped through.
Grell snorted and shook his head as he dropped the curtain, certain that no one had seen them slip into the room. “Well, yeah. Are you that surprised?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Ichigo just gave him a cool look before brushing off a bit of dust on a jewelry box with his fingers.
“No, not really considering that she was hidden after she left this world to live a life amongst the humans,” Ichigo hummed, shaking his head with a sad smile on his face. “I remember her telling me one day that before she had found her place next to my father, her life didn’t feel right,” he continued, opening the box, smiling at finding the necklace that his mother had one day sketched out for him.
It looked just like he thought it would, just as it had looked when she had drawn it. It had the three soft blue jewels that were rounded like pearls, small and shone with an inner light. The jewels were held in place by the elegant silver vines with tiny details that wrapped around each pearl. The rest was a soft fabric that connected to the chains that would latch around the back of his neck. Hanging off of one latch was a small leaf that would rest against one’s skin. It made him smile softly as he remembered his mother’s love of leaves and ivy vines.
“It’s pretty. Your mother’s?” Grell asked, looking at the necklace over Ichigo’s shoulder, taking in the delicateness of it.
“At one time,” Ichigo hummed, closing the box with a smile, stroking the top before looking around. The futon had been long cleared away, the padding gone along with any bedding, but everything else was still there, making it look quite a bit like what his mother had drawn so many years ago. The raised area where her futon would have sat was still there, dusty. But it still had drawers lining one side where she would have placed her special kimonos away until she needed them for a party, a dinner or some other special occasion. She also hid away some of the things that she wanted no one else to know.
Looking around, he took in the small desk that she would sit at, at night, writing in her journals and planning her next day, the small alter that she had kept to her mother during that life, and the almost closet like extra that kept her kimonos and all the needed accessories that came with them.
“Your mother was well treated, that’s for sure,” Grell hummed, peeking into the closet, eyeing the various boxes of kimonos that were still carefully wrapped to prevent anything from getting on them.
“She was. She may have been the first child of the second wife, but she was the first girl. In the clans, despite how they act, the eldest girl of the newest generation is well cared for,” Ichigo hummed. “Even if it is only physically and not emotionally,” he continued, kneeling down next to the platform and pulled out one of the drawers, memories of listening to the words of his mother as she talked about her life in stories of a woman who left all she had to try to find love.
All those stories he had read and kept close to his heart, never sharing them except with William when he had finally opened up one day about it. Ciel and Sebastian had filled in the blanks that the stories had, making him smile. But now they were coming in handy as he shifted the silky silvery colored kimono to the side, stroking the ivy lines that trailed over the fabric before finding the small box that had been hidden under it.
“Ah, here it is,” he breathed, pulling it out and placing it onto the platform. Taking off his backpack, he rifled through a small pocket before pulling out a tiny key that hung on a gold chain.
“I’m still surprised that you were able to hide so much information from me, Ichi,” Grell whined at him, Ichigo just smirking as he unlocked the box.
“No need to make it easy for you, my friend,” he teased, getting huffed at by the other. Opening the top, he smiled and stroked over the three hair sticks that he found within. He himself had a hair stick that he had received for his seventeenth birthday from William that he loved dearly. It was shaped like an English sword but decorated in delicate flowers on the rounded guard and had two chains, one with three little balls hanging from the middle of it while more of the stones that made up the flowers hung from the very ends of the chain. He could still feel the energy that had pulsed that first time in his hands from the rose quartz, and still felt every time he wore the pin.
But these? These were made from high quality stones and metals, made for a child of a high class clan, for all that they were day hair sticks. One held two beautifully crafted origami cranes hanging from a chain with a deep red tassel hanging from the end of the chain. Two onyx beads sat at the beginning of the chain and at the end just before the tassel. The cranes looked to be made out of silver with dusting of precious stone dusts to give them their red and blue colorings. The stick part looked as if it too had been made of gold, giving it an elegant look.
The second one held a round disk at the top, a smaller hole sitting near the top of the disk with a spinel bead hanging in the center of the hole. A blood stone shaped into a round bead sat over the gold disk while three long pieces of spinel hung from the bottom curve of it, creating a beautiful design while the stick was made from what he figured was platinum.
But it was the last piece that he had known was his mother’s favorite at one time. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship, made of dark wood with delicate slivers of opal, aventurine, orange chalcedony, and aqua blue chalcedony embedded into the wood. Opal and rubellite made up the few beaded shape gems that hung on the chain. But it was the delicately shaped gold butterfly that hung from one of them that made him smile as he stroked his fingers over it.
“Wow, someone loved your mother quite a bit,” Grell breathed, taking in the gorgeousness of the work a little closer.
“Yes, her brother,” Ichigo hummed, closing the box with one last stroke over the hair sticks before tucking the box into his backpack as they felt the tickle of power coming their way. “Show time,” he drawled. He silently pushed the drawer back in and standing, bag held in one hand as Grell slipped behind the curtain, making sure that he was well hidden away from everyone. He would come out when they either left or if he needed to intervene.
It was to Ichigo kneeling by the altar, lighting a stick of incense that Byakuya walked into, his eyes widening as he went stiff with the sight of some intruder daring to defile the room that his sister had left oh too long ago. “Who are you?” he hissed, teeth bared as Ichigo placed the stick into the black sand held in a small pot.
“You can call me Ichigo,” Ichigo replied, staying kneeling before the altar as he sent up a silent prayer to the family that he had lost over the years and those whom he had never met before. “I’m not here to fight you so take your hand off of your zanpactou, would you?” he asked, standing up finally after he looked to his uncle, smiling at the defensive yet hesitant stance of the other male. “I’m not here to fight, just talk,” he continued, sliding his backpack over one shoulder.
“What do you mean talk?” Byakuya asked, narrowing his eyes at the soft smile that made him think of his sister. She had been the eldest, but not of his mother, instead of their father’s second wife, so she hadn’t been the heir to the clan, but she always had a smile for him. Sometimes it was knowing. Sometimes it was sad.
And sometimes it just was, like the one that danced on Ichigo’s lips. He narrowed his eyes at the young man as he turned to look at the altar.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed odd happenings, heard things that others barely say above a whisper lest they get looked at too closely,” Ichigo hummed softly, brushing off a bit of dust from the top of the altar. Byakuya stiffened and took in the outfit that the young man wore. It wasn’t that of a Shinigami much less of anyone that he had ever seen before in his life, so it didn’t help him in identifying just who the male before him was, or how he knew of things that were better left in the dark for the time being. “You see, those things, those hidden actions, caused me to lose what little family I had living. My mother died when I was young, leaving my two sisters, me and my father without her.”
Byakuya twitched as he remembered the gossip of a death of a living clan member nearly thirteen years before. “Did she?” he asked, shaking the thought that it was connected to the gossip of so long ago.
“Yes. A hollow killed her because I was just a child with no knowledge of what I saw or what it could be, but she still saved me. Then about three years ago I lost my father and sisters to a plot. I’m not completely sure what plot it was but it is connected to this place, to this world that throws everything out of balance,” he continued, moving over to the curtains and standing there, sadness in his eyes. “For three years I have lived with two very special people that my mother helped long before I was born. They kept me out of the eyes of those who would kill me just because I represent something that they don’t want to have known about. I have power that they can’t control.”
“Power?” Byakuya asked, soaking up every bit of detail that he could. Ichigo just smiled softly and looked at him with amusement in his eyes.
“Oh yes, power. Quite a bit spiritual power but also just...power. Power of the mind, heart and body. I won’t say yes or no to something without questioning it until I have all of the answers that I wish for,” Ichigo said, smirking slightly and running a hand over the curtains before shrugging. “They do not like people thinking. They tend to want puppets after all. Just look at how the clan elders treat you, as if you are nothing but a puppet to pull the strings on.”
Byakuya stiffened as the barb hit right where it was supposed to, Ichigo’s eyes showing that he knew it had. The younger male tugged the curtains open, a flash of red hair slipping around the corner as Ichigo moved to perch on the sill, looking over his shoulder.
“Mother always said that despite your cold exterior, you were brilliant and caring. Loving,” he said, eyes staring right into Byakuya’s eyes. “And that you were like your grandfather in that you would not be used, but would make your own decisions based on the knowledge that you have and the information that you gather. Do not let her memories that she passed onto me go untrue. Find the information and make your decisions properly,” he said before disappearing out of the window.
Byakuya stared at the empty window for a second, shocked into stillness before he ran to the window and looked out of it. He saw Ichigo drop from the wall that surrounded his and his sister’s private garden alongside a man with blood red hair, making him slowly breath out. “Could you truly be her child, Ichigo?” he asked as he pulled back inside and closed the windows. Fully closing the curtains, he sighed and looked to the rather small painting that sat on the wall across from the window, hidden from all those but those who knew what to look for, his sister smiling from the frame. “Could it be you did find love in the living world?” he asked the portrait. Sighing, he left the room, closing the door behind him to think on the heavy words that the young man had given him.
Oh yes, he had much to think of and much to do.
- 30
- 31
- 32
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Whisper To Me