Categories > Anime/Manga > Bleach > Drawn and Inked
Drawn and Inked
His new vice captain was loud, obnoxious and the best new comer Kuchiki Byakuya had ever met.
?Blocked
Disclaimer: I DON’T OWN THEM! Though I wish I did. Just like every other squealing fan out there. –sigh-
Warnings: Spoilers for the entire anime up until the most recent Japanese-release episode (if only because I use future tenses of what the characters will become and the English dub people are nowhere near reaching there yet), yaoi, man schmex, language, general Renji attitude. Renji/Byakuya, implied Ichimaru/Ukitake. Be warned well, there will be NO Ichigo or anyone else from the real world in this fic. It’s Soul Society only and before Ichigo’s time.
Notes: This is my first ever Bleach fic. I’ve only recently become interested in it and so far, it’s a shinigami obsession. Byakuya is number one, Renji, a close second. Ichimaru and Ukitake both make it to third, only because I can’t decide between them. They’re so adorably messed up. Now, this fic is set slightly in the past, during the first few months of Renji’s admittance into the sixth division. I want to focus on the relationship between himself and Byakuya in the very beginning of their comradeship. Please bear with me about little details, as I’m going with as much information as I could possibly gather.
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Step one, dodge one.
Step one, forward attack one.
Step back one, block two, fumble, collapse.
“Abarai-kun, you’re thinking much too hard about this. Get up. Try again.”
“Hai, taichou. Gomen ne.”
Things moved slowly in Soul Society but it was by no means boring. Abarai Renji enjoyed it, along with his newest round of exciting news. The shinigami, in his twenty-third human year, fresh out of training school, had been taken up as vice captain of the sixth division.
It came only a month after the Kuchiki family had taken in his best friend, Rukia’s life forever changed from that day on, leaving Renji to fend for himself for the second time in his life. The redhead smiled broadly as he thought of the look on the girl’s face when he had told her his news. It was a memory he’d never forget, he was sure of it.
Though tired, the tattooed shinigami stared down his opponent and bowed out, offering his hand as he silently asked for the somber man’s bokken, the sun’s position in the sky telling him that it was indeed late, and he had plans for the night.
“Forgive me, Kuchiki-taichou, but I have to go. I’d hate to assume, but you have to be back before dinnertime, don’t you?”
The raven haired noble nodded and handed his weapon over, giving Renji a look that suggested it was alright for him to leave, the smile on the other man’s face causing Byakuya’s to colour slightly.
“Arigato. I’ll see you at first light tomorrow. Goodnight!”
The red ponytail flounced merrily before Renji flash stepped out of sight, the elder man’s eyes following him until he disappeared into the trees, his own feet carrying him quickly to his home. It was comfortably cool in the garden as he carefully lowered himself to sit on the hand carved wooden bench beside the pond, delicately boned hands tucking his robes about himself so he could at least maintain his air of regality even while sitting down. With a light sigh, the elegant shinigami rested his head back against the tree behind himself, falling into a quiet rest as the running water soothed his mind and soul.
----------------------
Reappearing in his small but well kept home, Renji set about getting undressed, quickly bathing and changing into a clean outfit, a sleeveless tank type shirt in blue and his brightest hakama, the yellow and red pattern glaring back at him from the bathroom mirror. He smiled at himself and retied his ponytail, leaving the thick satin ribbon long as it dangled down his back, forgoing any sort of forehead covering in favour of allowing his slowly revealing tattoos to show.
He fingered a new one, just below his hairline, its twin creeping in alongside less than a half an inch each day, soon to be joining up with the lines that already arched out of his eyebrows. The bright swordsman knew what it meant and he smirked, giving himself a wink before heading out, Zabimaru tied securely to his belt.
It was good to be a vice captain. The living quarters were better and the schedule was easy to work with. His only problem, was his sempai. The cold-blooded, solitary warrior, Kuchiki Byakuya. The name itself rolled off of Renji’s tongue as he stepped out into the laneway, his face souring slightly as he thought of the rigorous training he’d be in for the next morning.
“Better not overdo it tonight. Kami knows Kuchiki-taichou’ll skin me raw for it.”
-----------------------
As it was, Byakuya slept through the dinner hour in his homestead, a brave servant slinking out into the garden gently jostled him awake and instructed him of the hour, his curt nod causing the boy to quickly venture back into the large home.
The sixth squad captain sighed out loud and trudged himself back to his rooms, ignoring the various greetings and locking himself inside the posh area, his captain’s haori and scarf taken off and folded neatly. He was a man of habit and though things often happened to cause a change in his routine, the young Kuchiki was forever modifying it to work it around his busy schedule.
Breathing deeply, the dark haired shinigami removed the rest of his clothes, suddenly favouring a bath, the scent of jasmine and sandalwood itching his nose. He greatly enjoyed his bathing area and with good reason.
The primary washing room was large in itself, three wooden stools sitting neatly against the wall, as well as baskets for his bathing supplies, two sets of which never seeing use, considering he was the only person since his late wife to use the room. The larger room with the sunken tub was absolutely immense, able to easily fit ten people, should the need ever arise. Carved wood ladles sat in a small bucket, perfect for scooping the heated water up and over one’s head while relaxing in the deep, lightly scented water.
He set his things down in the first room and sat naked upon the stool, leaning to his right to draw a small bucket of hot water from the available pool, his hair washed and shampooed first, allowing the soap to sit in it as he washed the rest of his body, paying close attention to the small nicks Renji’s fingernails had clawed upon his forearms. When swinging a sword, the sleeve puffs up and reveals the lowermost part of the forearm, the wrist being the most susceptible to cuts and scrapes.
Scrubbed clean, the regal death god stood on slightly shaky legs and headed for the bath, the inlaid steps easing his way in as he lowered his battle hardened body into the steamy depths. A light hiss escaped his lips as his entire form slid into the water, his hands immediately holding his hair up so it could be draped over the edge once he had settled down, his arms tucked into the hot liquid as well as he rested his head back on the rounded stone ledge.
It was customary for his closest male servant to accompany him in the room but because of a sudden decision the week before, Byakuya had decided that it was unnecessary. The boy was glad to remain in the Kuchiki household, even if he wasn’t to directly assist the young heir any longer. In the privacy of his bath, Byakuya replayed the day’s events, especially those involving his new vice captain. He was interesting indeed…
-----------------------
Renji started off his first real practice session with Byakuya by showing up late. It had been a month since being sworn in as the sixth squad’s vice captain and things seemed to be going well for both men. Their duties were easily taken care of and the rest of the squad did their best to get used to the redhead’s outgoing attitude, especially when their taichou was away.
This day however, the sky was a bruised and swollen purple, a massive storm cell threatening the entirety of Soul Society. It was a rare time when a storm so large came about but it was no doubt on its way. The darkened sky lit up for a brief second before the two men squared off, the solitary Abarai holding his bokken out to his right hand side, his legs slightly apart as he took a low battle stance.
Byakuya took a more formal one, his feet together as he stood tall, his sword held lightly in his hand as both arms stayed at his sides. There was a silent acknowledgement of the beginning and it began, both forms hurtling towards each other before they finally touched, the crack of wood against wood seemingly louder than the thunder overhead.
For plain training sessions, they used the execution grounds, if only for the useable open space and the woods beyond, perfect for tactical challenges as well as proper sword fights. Both bodies slid back in the dirt, the elder shinigami stopping neatly and straightening up while the other dragged his empty hand along in front of himself, keeping his balance before coming to a complete stop, dust and debris rising around him, only to be blown away by the rising winds.
“Your strike is formidable, Abarai-kun, but you still fail to block as well as you could. Stand up and try it again.”
“Hai, Kuchiki-taichou.”
It continued on for the entire course of the day, Renji’s belly growling at him by the time the sun started to set, Byakuya’s eyes widening each time the redhead’s sword came ever closer to his throat. The practice was doing him good. The storm had passed and here stood a clean outlook. The raven haired Kuchiki looked up to the sky before peering back at his opponent, the younger man’s chest heaving tiredly as he held his hand out, waiting to take the practice weapons back to the storehouse before calling it a night.
Then it ended...
----------------------------
The water was still warm but quickly cooling when the squad captain snorted awake slightly, having dozed and dreamt instead of simply imagining his time away, his now soothed but immensely tired body lifting from the water and heading back towards his rooms for a good night’s rest. Faithfully, his servant had laid out his bedclothes and a glass of juice, exactly what Byakuya expected each night.
With a small smile he’d never afford anyone else, the noble slithered his slim form under the sheets and curled onto his right hand side, a habit from his time as a married man, his lovely wife always sleeping on his right. He enjoyed draping an arm over her belly and burying his nose against her neck, comfortably pressed along the length of her ever smooth, warm body.
The night was young but afraid of wasting it by pondering the past, the formal shinigami had decided to sleep, an easy way out of the pain he so often felt. He doubted if any of it actually showed through his icy exterior but in some ways, he was most certain that it did, his mind still protesting the fact as he started to doze again. With his new vice captain though, he’d have to be careful. He couldn’t allow anyone into his heart the same way again. No matter how lovely they looked while mastering basic sword techniques on a cloudy day…
------------------
“Ahh, kuso! Not again!” A loud wail echoed through the tavern as Renji lost a handful of coins at yet another game. “Let me try again. Just once more. I can do it.”
The barkeep snorted in doubt but still handed the redhead the pair of dice after he had slapped down another stack of money. Shaking his fist viciously, Zabimaru’s master tossed the little ivory cubes at the far wall, both of them jumping back as he called out his bet, eagerly awaiting the turnout.
“Even!, Kami save me, please let it be even!”
His cheerful shout of excitement less than a second later indicated that he had indeed won the bet. Hours later, with a smirk borne of a half dozen bottles of hot sake, he collected his doubled wager and stood up, immediately staggering to the doorway and leaning heavily against it, his body feeling nearly ten times its normal weight as he waved and headed for home.
Passing house after house, Renji found his own by sheer luck, something he could have used less than an hour prior, his pockets somewhat empty after his continued loses. He had money saved up in his bedroom so it didn’t bother him too much but any loss was an insult. The long haired shinigami stomped up to his place and immediately sat down on the bed once reaching the bedroom, his head spinning and his stomach doing dangerous flops that threatened to unload its happy deep fried fish passengers.
Burping loudly he rolled onto his side and undressed while lying down, a feat he doubted even his captain could do, his pants kicked off and his shirt tangled in his ponytail, a sharp grunt and a struggle later and the cloth lay on the floor while his hair sat in a shambles, the tie flicked across the room accidentally after he had tried to fix it. It was too late for a fight with his own body. The pooped soul stretched out on his back and tugged the covers up to his chin, noticing with some contempt that the sky above the building across the street, was already colouring with the first signs of dawn.
----------------------------
It was an early dawn, what some of the elder Soul Society inhabitants called a breeched birthing of the sun, the faintest trickles of it reaching Byakuya’s eyes as he sat up in bed, stretching his lithe, powerful form and yawned lightly, ever the delicate flower, even in the privacy of his own rooms. He swung his legs out over the edge and padded to the bathroom, making use of everything he needed to before returning and picking out his morning practice clothes, still donning the traditional black uniform overtop, as well as his Captain’s haori. It was a sign of dignity to him. Something he could be proud of because of his devotion to the cause.
A brief knock on the double chamber doors caught his attention and he called for the person to enter, patiently reattaching his kenseikan before turning to face the young boy. It was a saddening sight, to see the loyal servant shaking slightly as he was in the presence of his lord, his arms holding a heavy tray with the elder man’s breakfast. Lifting his right hand, Byakuya pointed to the sitting room, the boy immediately moving to fulfill his task, the ceramics tinkling against each other before he backed away and hurried out of the room, the door closing silently behind him.
It was tea and rice, a thick soup and small rolls of omelet spiced with pepper sauce, a favourite of the stoic young Kuchiki. He ate silently as always, refusing to sit as he stalked the rooms he resided in, nibbling delicately out of his bowl as he stepped around furniture and belongings that would have tripped up a visitor to the slightly cluttered living space. He was a neat freak but on days when the sky was dark and his mind was elsewhere, no one could blame the captain for his sudden bouts of laziness.
Leaving his dishes to be cleaned up later, the formally dressed taichou headed for the execution grounds for the second time that week, taking the long way and passing Renji’s home on the way, his feet slowing as he approached the building. He could feel the younger shinigami’s reiatsu still inside and because of its weak, uninteresting level, Byakuya could tell that the redhead was still sleeping. It was an irritation he didn’t need that morning, simply something else to black mark the new vice captain on. He craned his neck and peered up at an open window, his flash step carrying him swiftly as he slid inside the small apartment, managing to find the bedroom by chance, his feet failing him when they came down on soft ground instead of a hard floor.
His landing pad grunted out loud and rolled away from the window, causing the raven-haired death god to fall forward, two bodies and a tangle of black and white material landing hard on the solid wood floor. A grumbled string of curses came from the blanketed body as he pushed the heavier man off of himself, his face a scowl of anger before he brushed the hair out of his eyes and blinked strongly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes.
“Aww, what the hell do you think you’re doing, falling into someone’s house?! And so early in the mor…” Renji opened his eyes mid-rant and stared noticeably, taking in the sight of his captain, the man’s dark haired ruffled but still in its decorative state, his haori lifted up and flipped forward over his right shoulder. He looked as calm as usual, but also seemed loathe to move from where he sat. Dark eyes drifted down and caught a glimpse of the younger shinigami’s nude form, Renji quickly noticing and tugging the covers around his waist.
“A..ano, Kuchiki-taichou…is it time for practice already?”
Warnings: Spoilers for the entire anime up until the most recent Japanese-release episode (if only because I use future tenses of what the characters will become and the English dub people are nowhere near reaching there yet), yaoi, man schmex, language, general Renji attitude. Renji/Byakuya, implied Ichimaru/Ukitake. Be warned well, there will be NO Ichigo or anyone else from the real world in this fic. It’s Soul Society only and before Ichigo’s time.
Notes: This is my first ever Bleach fic. I’ve only recently become interested in it and so far, it’s a shinigami obsession. Byakuya is number one, Renji, a close second. Ichimaru and Ukitake both make it to third, only because I can’t decide between them. They’re so adorably messed up. Now, this fic is set slightly in the past, during the first few months of Renji’s admittance into the sixth division. I want to focus on the relationship between himself and Byakuya in the very beginning of their comradeship. Please bear with me about little details, as I’m going with as much information as I could possibly gather.
--------------------
Step one, dodge one.
Step one, forward attack one.
Step back one, block two, fumble, collapse.
“Abarai-kun, you’re thinking much too hard about this. Get up. Try again.”
“Hai, taichou. Gomen ne.”
Things moved slowly in Soul Society but it was by no means boring. Abarai Renji enjoyed it, along with his newest round of exciting news. The shinigami, in his twenty-third human year, fresh out of training school, had been taken up as vice captain of the sixth division.
It came only a month after the Kuchiki family had taken in his best friend, Rukia’s life forever changed from that day on, leaving Renji to fend for himself for the second time in his life. The redhead smiled broadly as he thought of the look on the girl’s face when he had told her his news. It was a memory he’d never forget, he was sure of it.
Though tired, the tattooed shinigami stared down his opponent and bowed out, offering his hand as he silently asked for the somber man’s bokken, the sun’s position in the sky telling him that it was indeed late, and he had plans for the night.
“Forgive me, Kuchiki-taichou, but I have to go. I’d hate to assume, but you have to be back before dinnertime, don’t you?”
The raven haired noble nodded and handed his weapon over, giving Renji a look that suggested it was alright for him to leave, the smile on the other man’s face causing Byakuya’s to colour slightly.
“Arigato. I’ll see you at first light tomorrow. Goodnight!”
The red ponytail flounced merrily before Renji flash stepped out of sight, the elder man’s eyes following him until he disappeared into the trees, his own feet carrying him quickly to his home. It was comfortably cool in the garden as he carefully lowered himself to sit on the hand carved wooden bench beside the pond, delicately boned hands tucking his robes about himself so he could at least maintain his air of regality even while sitting down. With a light sigh, the elegant shinigami rested his head back against the tree behind himself, falling into a quiet rest as the running water soothed his mind and soul.
----------------------
Reappearing in his small but well kept home, Renji set about getting undressed, quickly bathing and changing into a clean outfit, a sleeveless tank type shirt in blue and his brightest hakama, the yellow and red pattern glaring back at him from the bathroom mirror. He smiled at himself and retied his ponytail, leaving the thick satin ribbon long as it dangled down his back, forgoing any sort of forehead covering in favour of allowing his slowly revealing tattoos to show.
He fingered a new one, just below his hairline, its twin creeping in alongside less than a half an inch each day, soon to be joining up with the lines that already arched out of his eyebrows. The bright swordsman knew what it meant and he smirked, giving himself a wink before heading out, Zabimaru tied securely to his belt.
It was good to be a vice captain. The living quarters were better and the schedule was easy to work with. His only problem, was his sempai. The cold-blooded, solitary warrior, Kuchiki Byakuya. The name itself rolled off of Renji’s tongue as he stepped out into the laneway, his face souring slightly as he thought of the rigorous training he’d be in for the next morning.
“Better not overdo it tonight. Kami knows Kuchiki-taichou’ll skin me raw for it.”
-----------------------
As it was, Byakuya slept through the dinner hour in his homestead, a brave servant slinking out into the garden gently jostled him awake and instructed him of the hour, his curt nod causing the boy to quickly venture back into the large home.
The sixth squad captain sighed out loud and trudged himself back to his rooms, ignoring the various greetings and locking himself inside the posh area, his captain’s haori and scarf taken off and folded neatly. He was a man of habit and though things often happened to cause a change in his routine, the young Kuchiki was forever modifying it to work it around his busy schedule.
Breathing deeply, the dark haired shinigami removed the rest of his clothes, suddenly favouring a bath, the scent of jasmine and sandalwood itching his nose. He greatly enjoyed his bathing area and with good reason.
The primary washing room was large in itself, three wooden stools sitting neatly against the wall, as well as baskets for his bathing supplies, two sets of which never seeing use, considering he was the only person since his late wife to use the room. The larger room with the sunken tub was absolutely immense, able to easily fit ten people, should the need ever arise. Carved wood ladles sat in a small bucket, perfect for scooping the heated water up and over one’s head while relaxing in the deep, lightly scented water.
He set his things down in the first room and sat naked upon the stool, leaning to his right to draw a small bucket of hot water from the available pool, his hair washed and shampooed first, allowing the soap to sit in it as he washed the rest of his body, paying close attention to the small nicks Renji’s fingernails had clawed upon his forearms. When swinging a sword, the sleeve puffs up and reveals the lowermost part of the forearm, the wrist being the most susceptible to cuts and scrapes.
Scrubbed clean, the regal death god stood on slightly shaky legs and headed for the bath, the inlaid steps easing his way in as he lowered his battle hardened body into the steamy depths. A light hiss escaped his lips as his entire form slid into the water, his hands immediately holding his hair up so it could be draped over the edge once he had settled down, his arms tucked into the hot liquid as well as he rested his head back on the rounded stone ledge.
It was customary for his closest male servant to accompany him in the room but because of a sudden decision the week before, Byakuya had decided that it was unnecessary. The boy was glad to remain in the Kuchiki household, even if he wasn’t to directly assist the young heir any longer. In the privacy of his bath, Byakuya replayed the day’s events, especially those involving his new vice captain. He was interesting indeed…
-----------------------
Renji started off his first real practice session with Byakuya by showing up late. It had been a month since being sworn in as the sixth squad’s vice captain and things seemed to be going well for both men. Their duties were easily taken care of and the rest of the squad did their best to get used to the redhead’s outgoing attitude, especially when their taichou was away.
This day however, the sky was a bruised and swollen purple, a massive storm cell threatening the entirety of Soul Society. It was a rare time when a storm so large came about but it was no doubt on its way. The darkened sky lit up for a brief second before the two men squared off, the solitary Abarai holding his bokken out to his right hand side, his legs slightly apart as he took a low battle stance.
Byakuya took a more formal one, his feet together as he stood tall, his sword held lightly in his hand as both arms stayed at his sides. There was a silent acknowledgement of the beginning and it began, both forms hurtling towards each other before they finally touched, the crack of wood against wood seemingly louder than the thunder overhead.
For plain training sessions, they used the execution grounds, if only for the useable open space and the woods beyond, perfect for tactical challenges as well as proper sword fights. Both bodies slid back in the dirt, the elder shinigami stopping neatly and straightening up while the other dragged his empty hand along in front of himself, keeping his balance before coming to a complete stop, dust and debris rising around him, only to be blown away by the rising winds.
“Your strike is formidable, Abarai-kun, but you still fail to block as well as you could. Stand up and try it again.”
“Hai, Kuchiki-taichou.”
It continued on for the entire course of the day, Renji’s belly growling at him by the time the sun started to set, Byakuya’s eyes widening each time the redhead’s sword came ever closer to his throat. The practice was doing him good. The storm had passed and here stood a clean outlook. The raven haired Kuchiki looked up to the sky before peering back at his opponent, the younger man’s chest heaving tiredly as he held his hand out, waiting to take the practice weapons back to the storehouse before calling it a night.
Then it ended...
----------------------------
The water was still warm but quickly cooling when the squad captain snorted awake slightly, having dozed and dreamt instead of simply imagining his time away, his now soothed but immensely tired body lifting from the water and heading back towards his rooms for a good night’s rest. Faithfully, his servant had laid out his bedclothes and a glass of juice, exactly what Byakuya expected each night.
With a small smile he’d never afford anyone else, the noble slithered his slim form under the sheets and curled onto his right hand side, a habit from his time as a married man, his lovely wife always sleeping on his right. He enjoyed draping an arm over her belly and burying his nose against her neck, comfortably pressed along the length of her ever smooth, warm body.
The night was young but afraid of wasting it by pondering the past, the formal shinigami had decided to sleep, an easy way out of the pain he so often felt. He doubted if any of it actually showed through his icy exterior but in some ways, he was most certain that it did, his mind still protesting the fact as he started to doze again. With his new vice captain though, he’d have to be careful. He couldn’t allow anyone into his heart the same way again. No matter how lovely they looked while mastering basic sword techniques on a cloudy day…
------------------
“Ahh, kuso! Not again!” A loud wail echoed through the tavern as Renji lost a handful of coins at yet another game. “Let me try again. Just once more. I can do it.”
The barkeep snorted in doubt but still handed the redhead the pair of dice after he had slapped down another stack of money. Shaking his fist viciously, Zabimaru’s master tossed the little ivory cubes at the far wall, both of them jumping back as he called out his bet, eagerly awaiting the turnout.
“Even!, Kami save me, please let it be even!”
His cheerful shout of excitement less than a second later indicated that he had indeed won the bet. Hours later, with a smirk borne of a half dozen bottles of hot sake, he collected his doubled wager and stood up, immediately staggering to the doorway and leaning heavily against it, his body feeling nearly ten times its normal weight as he waved and headed for home.
Passing house after house, Renji found his own by sheer luck, something he could have used less than an hour prior, his pockets somewhat empty after his continued loses. He had money saved up in his bedroom so it didn’t bother him too much but any loss was an insult. The long haired shinigami stomped up to his place and immediately sat down on the bed once reaching the bedroom, his head spinning and his stomach doing dangerous flops that threatened to unload its happy deep fried fish passengers.
Burping loudly he rolled onto his side and undressed while lying down, a feat he doubted even his captain could do, his pants kicked off and his shirt tangled in his ponytail, a sharp grunt and a struggle later and the cloth lay on the floor while his hair sat in a shambles, the tie flicked across the room accidentally after he had tried to fix it. It was too late for a fight with his own body. The pooped soul stretched out on his back and tugged the covers up to his chin, noticing with some contempt that the sky above the building across the street, was already colouring with the first signs of dawn.
----------------------------
It was an early dawn, what some of the elder Soul Society inhabitants called a breeched birthing of the sun, the faintest trickles of it reaching Byakuya’s eyes as he sat up in bed, stretching his lithe, powerful form and yawned lightly, ever the delicate flower, even in the privacy of his own rooms. He swung his legs out over the edge and padded to the bathroom, making use of everything he needed to before returning and picking out his morning practice clothes, still donning the traditional black uniform overtop, as well as his Captain’s haori. It was a sign of dignity to him. Something he could be proud of because of his devotion to the cause.
A brief knock on the double chamber doors caught his attention and he called for the person to enter, patiently reattaching his kenseikan before turning to face the young boy. It was a saddening sight, to see the loyal servant shaking slightly as he was in the presence of his lord, his arms holding a heavy tray with the elder man’s breakfast. Lifting his right hand, Byakuya pointed to the sitting room, the boy immediately moving to fulfill his task, the ceramics tinkling against each other before he backed away and hurried out of the room, the door closing silently behind him.
It was tea and rice, a thick soup and small rolls of omelet spiced with pepper sauce, a favourite of the stoic young Kuchiki. He ate silently as always, refusing to sit as he stalked the rooms he resided in, nibbling delicately out of his bowl as he stepped around furniture and belongings that would have tripped up a visitor to the slightly cluttered living space. He was a neat freak but on days when the sky was dark and his mind was elsewhere, no one could blame the captain for his sudden bouts of laziness.
Leaving his dishes to be cleaned up later, the formally dressed taichou headed for the execution grounds for the second time that week, taking the long way and passing Renji’s home on the way, his feet slowing as he approached the building. He could feel the younger shinigami’s reiatsu still inside and because of its weak, uninteresting level, Byakuya could tell that the redhead was still sleeping. It was an irritation he didn’t need that morning, simply something else to black mark the new vice captain on. He craned his neck and peered up at an open window, his flash step carrying him swiftly as he slid inside the small apartment, managing to find the bedroom by chance, his feet failing him when they came down on soft ground instead of a hard floor.
His landing pad grunted out loud and rolled away from the window, causing the raven-haired death god to fall forward, two bodies and a tangle of black and white material landing hard on the solid wood floor. A grumbled string of curses came from the blanketed body as he pushed the heavier man off of himself, his face a scowl of anger before he brushed the hair out of his eyes and blinked strongly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes.
“Aww, what the hell do you think you’re doing, falling into someone’s house?! And so early in the mor…” Renji opened his eyes mid-rant and stared noticeably, taking in the sight of his captain, the man’s dark haired ruffled but still in its decorative state, his haori lifted up and flipped forward over his right shoulder. He looked as calm as usual, but also seemed loathe to move from where he sat. Dark eyes drifted down and caught a glimpse of the younger shinigami’s nude form, Renji quickly noticing and tugging the covers around his waist.
“A..ano, Kuchiki-taichou…is it time for practice already?”
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