Simple Like Tea

Byakuya woke up with a start. His heart was racing and his breath came in short quick pants. He ran his hand over his eyes and looked around the room. It was as empty as it had been when he had gone to bed. There was no one there, no trace of spiritual energy, no sign that anything had been touched or disturbed. The side of the bed to his left was still made. Hisana…

With an effort he lay back in bed, swallowing hard. He did not know why he had woken up the way he had, but now his thoughts had turned to Hisana, it felt like the answer somehow. Had he been dreaming of her again? He couldn't remember. It felt like forever since he'd dreamt of her. He closed his eyes and regulated his breathing, a calming exercise that any man with an ounce of self-control learned. Hisana’s face floated in the darkness, her small smile, her calm eyes vividly detailed, not a speck blurred or dimmed after all these years.

His eyes fluttered open and his breathing sped up again. He wondered if she was haunting him somehow.

Taking a deep breath, he forced his mind to other matters. It was only a few short hours now before he would go fetch the human girl. He would still have to deal with the elders. He wondered again if he should tell her some of the circumstances surrounding the union to better prepare her, but all his interactions with the girl so far had shown him she was admirable, more than admirable under pressure.

She will make a fine Lady Wife.

Shocked at himself, Byakuya stopped smiling. It had been a small smile, not very sincere even, but it had been a smile nonetheless. Where had that come from? Had he even smiled during Rukia’s wedding? He couldn’t remember doing so.

Byakuya thought of Abarai. How stupid and foolish he had been after spending time in her company, how calm and serene he had seemed during those days when she had been his own little secret. Was he being infected by the same kind of excitement that came from having a secret? No, he had many secrets, so that couldn’t be it. Perhaps a secret pertaining to the opposite sex? It was a point of uncertainty for him, women and their ways, and he was embarrassed to admit that he knew very little about them. It was only logical that he wouldn’t understand many of his reactions around them or the effect they seem to have on men. They seemed to transform into completely different people when around women somehow, as though the presence of the females flipped an unseen switch.

Yes, that was it. Something to do with the way men were distressed by women.

He thought again about his lieutenant. That he was concerned was only natural. The man had always been something of a loose cannon. When he had lost Rukia, he had wreaked havoc with the ryoka. Now that Reiko had been essentially taken away from him, he was prone to improper outbursts again. He wondered again what Reiko had told him. He seemed to know that Byakuya had some sort of involvement at the very least. To what extent, Byakuya couldn’t say. The last thing he wanted was to fight the boy again.

Byakuya ran his fingers through his hair in agitation, a habit reserved for the privacy of his sleeping chambers. The sleeping chambers that wouldn’t be his anymore once he was married. Likely he would have to move to a larger wing with his new bride. So many changes would have to be made for this, and he still knew nothing about the elders’ motives. A tiny glimmer of doubt was quickly extinguished. He was too far into the mess now to question whether or not he had done the right thing at this point.

With newfound determination, Byakuya got out of bed to go and fetch his new bride.

***

Reiko woke up with a start. Panting heavily in her bed, in the clean sheets she had finally put on the bed, she looked around the room for the source of her sudden distress. But nothing moved but her reflection. The letter she had taped to the mirror was now carefully folded into a book, the only book she had ever truly enjoyed, and everything else in the room gave the impression of abandonment. She stepped out of the bed and walked to the tiny shower she would use for the last time. She wondered what kind of bath she would have in Kuchiki Byakuya’s house, but stopped the line of thinking immediately after it was started. She had already decided to expect nothing, predict nothing and be surprised by nothing. The bath would be whatever it would be. For now, she just needed to concentrate on cleaning herself.

Sighing, she touched the tattoo on her arm. It wasn’t very well-made, and it was hardly original. It was just a flower. She had been foolish to get it. Even now a part of her rebelled in defense of the thing. She had gotten it for Hana.

Reiko shook her head, dispelling the thought. She hadn’t thought of that name in years. No matter. She was just being overly sentimental because she knew what day it was. The sense of finality that hung heavy in the air was playing tricks on her mind. That was all.

Checking the scar in her heel, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in her towel. She secured her hair in its usual tight bun and inspected herself in the mirror. A plain-faced girl like her had very little chance of marriage at the age of twenty-six. Almost twenty-seven now. And to a wealthy noble, who was undeniably handsome. In fact, he was gorgeous enough that had he been in the real world, he would have landed himself an entire career based on nothing but his looks. She thought there were probably many women from Soul Society that would have loved to be in her position. Yes. She should consider herself lucky.

But Reiko couldn’t pull herself away from her reflection. She wished she was beautiful, like her mother. Seeing Sayuri had been a demanding test in self-control, but she had not prepared herself for how beautiful her mother really was. As a sulky teenager in a photograph, she had seemed pretty enough, but in real life, even as a mature mother who was well past the age most women considered their prime, she was strikingly elegant. Reiko was regular to an unnerving degree. Nothing about her would ever stand out as pretty or attractive in the slightest. Yes. She was very lucky.

Hesitantly, Reiko undid her bun and let her hair down again. She experimented with combing it back, or parting it to the side. She was very unused to the sight of herself with her hair down. If anyone that knew her saw her like this, they would have an aneurism. But where she was going today, no one knew her. At least, if Renji had explained it correctly, no one that knew her when they were alive would even remember her. She tried to towel it dry, then experimented with several styles again. No. She was no more attractive or pretty with her hair down than she was with her hair in a bun. Feeling irritated with herself, she coiled her hair into a bun again and turned away from the mirror before she could change her mind. She was acting like some foolish teenage girl getting ready to go on a date.

Very deliberately, Reiko slipped into a fresh change of underwear and picked up the kimono she had set out to wear the night before. It was a very plain unornamented red one with small birds of paradise embroidered on the sleeves in black stitches and soft-looking white cloud patterns across the hem. She had worn it often, so it had no special significance, but in it she felt confident and sure. She wrapped her obi around herself carefully, double-checking all the folds and tucks, and inspecting herself in the mirror from as many angels as she could twist herself to see. The red obi was very decorative, with black and gold patterns embroidered on every spare inch of fabric, but the kimono was plain enough that the combination didn’t look gaudy. It made her feel bold and daring.

With a satisfied nod, she quickly and efficiently made the bed, wrapped her hairbrush in a cloth and packed it away, slipped on her socks and sandals and marched down the stairs carrying the small traveling case that carried her most prized possessions: one book, with Kuchiki Byakuya’s letter carefully folded inside the pages, the photos of her grandparents from the shrine, a small collection of her rarest blends and ingredients, and a solid silver bracelet engraved with flowers and the kanji for health, prosperity, longevity and good fortune. The rest of her things, primarily clothes, tea sets and blends, were in a much larger much heavier traveling case downstairs by the door. Everything else, she would leave here for the man that would be arriving late at night or early the next morning, if Sayuri had followed the instructions Reiko had given her in the letter. Nothing of her personal belongings had been left behind. She had even slept in the nude to avoid having to put away her yukata and her dirty underwear away in the morning. She supposed the only thing left of her was a fair scent in the sheets she had slept in. At least they no longer smelled like Renji.

Downstairs, Reiko set her small travelling case on a table by the window and sat down to wait. She avoided looking at the clock by letting her mind wonder what Akira’s reaction would be. Within a few hours, he would receive his letter, whether by post or by personal delivery. He would read it, and immediately want to come to the teahouse. It would take him at least four hours by train to get to Karakura Town. By then, Reiko would be long gone.

When he arrived, he might still search for her, in vain of course. He would run frantically through the teahouse, searching for any sign of her. He wouldn’t find any sign of her. He would see she was truly gone and then… and then what? Anger? Sadness? Relief?

She played several different scenarios in her mind, substituting various possible reactions and emotions when her imagination exhausted a certain possible outcome. He might lock up the teahouse and never return. He might take up the business himself. He might sell it. He might spend a night in her bed, gripping the sheets. All outcomes seemed equally likely. The sun came out. The shopkeepers would wake soon.

Reiko lifted her head to look out the window and saw Kuchiki Byakuya standing on the road outside her shop, watching her with unblinking eyes that conveyed… pity. Perhaps a certain measure of regret even, or sympathy. Reiko rose out of her seat to go let him in, wondering how long he had been standing outside watching her with those unblinking eyes.

“It’s time to go, Reiko-san” he said quietly when she opened the door, standing outside with a clear unwillingness to go into the teahouse.

“Hai. If you could please help me, Kuchiki-sama,” she gestured to the large traveling case by the door and turned to retrieve the small one she had left on the table. Holding the handle, she hesitated. She could not bring herself to look up and say goodbye to the teahouse, but she couldn’t leave it just yet. Leaving it now, like this, with nothing but a fading scent of mint upstairs to prove she was ever here was too difficult now that she had to actually do it.

“Reiko-san?”

Reiko opened the small case and took out the book. Romeo and Juliet. She retrieved the letter from its pages and dropped that back in the case. The book, she placed lovingly on the table, lingeringly running her fingers over the embossed title on the leather cover, old and battered with the gold leaf peeling away. “Coming, Kuchiki-sama.”

Reluctantly taking her hand off the book, she snapped her case shut and walked away from the table, picking up the key from the hook on the wall, keeping her head lowered to walk past Kuchiki Byakuya until she was outside the teashop. She heard the door slide shut behind her, and no sound ever held such finality. He took a few steps and stood beside her, her large case held in his hand as though it weighed nothing. With an effort, Reiko smoothed her face and looked up at him, the key to the door gripped tightly in her shaking fist. “I-”

He seemed on the verge of saying something, but it was with silence that he gently took her fist in his hand and pried open her fingers with frightening ease. He looked in her eyes, as though waiting for confirmation, and Reiko nodded minutely, dropping her gaze to the triangle of pale skin visible between his kimono and his scarf. The skin looked smooth, but cold. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it for fear she would have to meet his eyes again, and he would see her weakness. He picked up the key and went back to the door, locking it twice, then bringing it back to her. “Are you taking this with you?” he asked, his voice soothingly detached.

Reiko looked at it and nodded. She had sent a copy of the key with her letter. There was no reason to leave it behind. Kuchiki Byakuya nodded, and when she made no motion to take the key from him, he put it away, seeming to understand. Realizing there was nothing left to be done, he finally began to lead the way, Reiko walking behind him, taking quick steps to match his large stride.

“Perhaps,” he spoke suddenly, not slowing in his steps after a few minutes of silent walking, “perhaps under the circumstances, you can call me Byakuya.”

And Reiko decided she would.

***

Renji fidgeted. He knew he had never been a role model of calm behavior, but still, he didn’t like fidgeting. He adjusted his position and recrossed his legs, trying to balance the thick book in his hands. But it was no use. He could understand nothing. Agitated, he shut the book and set it aside. Romeo and Juliet was supposed to be some kind of big deal in the real world, but he couldn’t see the appeal. Sighing, he leaned back on his hands and looked around again.

She had only been gone for a few short hours, but already the teahouse felt lonely and empty. He had watched her go, saw the captain arrive in the morning and stand for what felt like an eternity, watching her silently through the window. She had been motionless and stiff the entire time, not moving a muscle. When he had first arrived at her window and seen her sleeping – in the nude no less! Reiko! – his heart had hardened with betrayal and anger. He had struggled to keep silent, even when she groaned in her sleep, twitching so that the faint droplets of sweat on her skin gleamed in the moonlight.

He hadn't planned to talk to her. He was unprepared, with nothing to say. But still, he had wanted to see her. The captain's arrival had been a shock, and the betrayal and anger had sharpened to a fine point when he realized that all the packing and the preparations she had made were for this moment, to be taken away by him. She had said she was going to marry him. He had not wanted to believe. Watching her experiment with different hairstyles in the mirror, always with her hair playfully down, had reminded him of a young girl, nervous and excited about a secret rendezvous with her sweetheart. He had asked her often to let her hair down when they had been... whatever they had been. He thought if she had ended up letting her hair down for the captain, a part of him would have died forever. Foolish, but inescapabley true.

Up until she left with the captain, walking a few steps behind him carrying a small travelling case while the captain carried a larger identical one, he had been certain he would be discovered. But the captain – thankfully – had not noticed his presence at all. A surprise, but a pleasant one.

He had come inside then, to see what he could find that would indicate something of what had happened to him. But the hollow emptiness had been too heavy, and he had found no sign of her beyond the book on the table and a faint smell of mint in the apartment upstairs. The room looked strangely large without the folding screens, which had been put away under the bed. The altar where the shrine for her grandparents had been could have been an ordinary desk now. The ceiling looked higher without the herbs hanging from the rafters.

Renji considered leaving, returning to Soul Society. He was certain that was where she and the captain went. But he didn’t want to leave this place yet. Suddenly, there was a heavy sense of abandonment in the place, and he desperately wanted to alleviate it somehow.

He sat on the bad carefully, touching the pillows and running his hands over the sheets with something akin to reverence. That night he had spent with her had been wonderful. He had been with women before, usually whores or nameless faceless bodies that had been warm and willing, and it had always been nice; pleasant even. Being with Reiko had been the first time he had been with a woman that had meant anything more to him than an answer to a physical urge. He had desired her, truly desired her, without doubt or hesitation, and in ways he had never desired a woman before – except Rukia.

Here, his heart stuttered, and Renji had to close his eyes and bite his lip to keep from screaming in frustration. He so badly wanted to get over Rukia. He so badly wanted the things that had hurt Reiko to be untrue. He wished he could have said, “No, the captain lied, I only care for you.”

But the sleepless night that had followed his last conversation with her had revealed two important truths.

First: The reason she had been so hurt was likely because of the fact that he had come to mean something to her. He knew she must have loved him, or felt something very similar to love towards him, or else she wouldn’t have reacted the way she had.

Second: The reason he had been so hurt by her words was because they had been true. He had used her just like she had accused him of using her, had been a fiend and an inexcusable monster that had kept things from her that she should have known. But he had cared for her, too, more than she knew. More than he himself knew until it was over.

Renji leaned back and lay down, staring at the ceiling, going over these truths yet again in his head. The sheets smelled faintly minty, and his stomach seemed to tie itself into a knot with the agony of missing her. He turned his head to the side and breathed her in…

And woke up to the sound of frantic footsteps running around downstairs. “Reiko!” The voice was reedy and nasal, kind of like Ichigo’s voice, but the heavy steps said this was someone larger, much larger.

Renji looked out of the window, surprised he had fallen asleep like this, and here of all places! The sleepless nights since he had last been here had finally caught up to him.

“Reiko!”

The clomping of big feet up the stairs made Renji jump up and run into the bathroom where he could watch from behind the door, and hopefully this was just some human that couldn’t see his spirit form.

“Reiko!” the door to the little apartment burst open, and a bear of a man was panting in the doorway, a red bandana tied around his forehead, his arms massive and his shoulders proportional to the rest. His eyes were scanning the empty room, his face crumpled into a mask of disbelief, shock and dismay. In his giant fist he clutched a crumpled piece of paper that had the look of something that had been folded and refolded many times. The bear-man groaned, and his eyes passed over the place where Renji now stood in the bathroom doorway without giving any indication of having seen anything.

Relieved, Renji tiptoed across the room to the window, and launched himself into the night. Sleeping on that bed, smelling her in those sheets, had made things painstakingly clear to him; he had to go after her, and he had to fight to win her back.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Renji ran as fast as he could through the silent empty streets.



TBC

AN/ I've been way too busy these past few weeks, how I manage to get anything done is BEYOND me. You've all been very patient - and very kind! - through it all, and for that I am endlessly grateful. Next chapter might give us a tiny peak into Akira's part in all this, but if it does it would be miniscule, because he's not really an important character. If you guys would like to read it, please let me know, and if not, please also let me know.

Thanks for staying tuned and continuing to read my humble brainchild. Until next time, bye bye! ^^