Simple Like Tea

Aaaaaaaaaand I'm back! Incoming chapter.

***

“Byakuya-sama,” she spoke through grit teeth, though her face remained perfectly smooth. “Forewarning would have been greatly appreciated and highly appropriate under the circumstances.”

Strangely, Byakuya found himself resisting the urge to laugh. When she had first seen the Koryou, she had frozen stone still in shock. Byakuya had done the reasonable thing under the circumstances: he had picked her up and carried her, running them at top speed through the dangai. Then, of course, because his luck would have it no other way, the seimichio – the ‘janitor’ – had come rushing out of the mess, and the girl had responded by gripping him tightly around the neck, burying her face in his shoulders in fear. Her tiny fists gripping his captain robe had felt strange, unfamiliar. He’d experienced physical contact very little outside of healing and fighting. He couldn’t remember a time someone had gripped him like this, not in a death grip, but as a lifeline, as a savior. At the thought, his grip had automatically tightened on her, and one of her tiny hands wound itself in his hair – he had almost stumbled in shock at that! – and she had let out a frightened whimper that had filled him with the urge to see her safe. He had succeeded in bringing her out safe and sound, though thoroughly shaken.

Once he stepped into Soul Society, he became very conscious of her grip, of how closely he held her to his chest, how soft and warm her body felt in his hands, and how aware he was of her trembling form. He carefully reached up with one hand, kneeling down on one knee so he could support her against himself with one arm, and tried to untangle her hand from his hair. “We are here,” he said softly, “it’s over now.”

Slowly, she had loosened her grip on his hair and clothes, and opened her eyes, damp with tears to look around her cautiously. He gently helped her rise to her feet, rising to his own, and placed his hands on her shoulders in what he hoped conveyed support. She shook, hugging herself for a time, but then, with astounding speed, she had taken long deep breaths and produced a calm face, even if a little pale, and slightly trembling still.

It was then she had looked up at him with sharp dark eyes and spoken the words that had ignited in him the desire to laugh. He couldn’t honestly remember the last time he had laughed, but now he felt the urge to do so. A part of him warned that it was cruel, very cruel, but that just made the urge to laugh even stronger. He had just nodded, as though making a mental note for future reference, and then led her towards the Kuchiki House, his hand placed carefully on her lower back anticipating unsteadiness in her walk, both her traveling cases in his other hand, one carried, the other secured under his arm. He felt exposed without a hand free to reach for his sword, but tried to remind himself that the likelihood of an attack so close to the noble manor and on Kuchiki grounds was an impossibility. Remembering his purpose here again had killed the small moment of recklessness that had possessed him. Again he was filled with anxiety and nerves.

She adjusted her obi, scowling with disapproval, then discreetly retucked some of the folds of her kimono. He had been impressed with her rather stately appearance in the formal red silk, and now even more impressed with the way tucking the folds seemed second nature to her, without even the use of a mirror. Her hands fluttered to her hair as she walked, her face fixed into a scowl now that she had clearly detected some flaw or disarray in it, and she shot him another accusing glare. The urge to laugh flickered inside him again.

“There are rooms for you to stay in, but they will only be your rooms for two nights. Tonight, there will be a small wedding ceremony in the Kuchiki House, and we will announce our engagement tomorrow. The next day will be…” he found the words difficult to formulate. To say it would be “our wedding day” seemed somehow a lie, a poor word choice. To say it was just another wedding ceremony would be misleading. He had no idea how big a deal this ceremony would be, since the elders had seen to all the arrangements themselves, but he could imagine at least every captain in the Gotei 13 would be invited, with maybe the exception of Zaraki Kenpachi. If he knew the elders right, and he was fairly certain he did, it would be a very lavish affair, a boast to the wealth and privilege of the Kuchiki House, a reminder of its powerful allies in every face present. He decided then he would invite Zaraki Kenpachi himself, including two or three members of his squad. Perhaps his lieutenant-child and the obnoxious third-seat. It would irk the elders.

His brain chimed in that there was no need for that now. His engagement alone and the identity of his bride would enrage them to no end. Irking them seemed so small beside that, but it was an ingrained habit he had no wish to give up on now. Now more than ever, now that the impending arrival of – he forced himself to think it – his wedding was just over the horizon, he wanted more than ever to cause every possible inconvenience for them.

Within sight of the house, he dropped his hand from her back and she stopped in her tracks, blinking at the large mansion spread out before her. The real world tradition of piling floor upon floor in a house of this size had not touched the noble houses of soul society. The mansion sprawled as far left and right as the eye could see, surrounded on all sides by lush vegetation, koi ponds and zen gardens.

“It’s very… large,” she offered in an awed voice.

Byakuya looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Yes. It takes getting used to.”

Sadness crossed her features for the briefest of moments. Yes. She had a lot of time to get used to it. She would live out the rest of her days here. The thought must have made her sad. “There is something troubling you that you are not telling me, Byakuya-sama,” she said again, her voice careful, guarded. “That is to say, there are many things you are not telling me, but one of those things at least is the source of a great deal of discomfort and agitation to you. Please, tell me.” Her eyes softened as she turned to smile at him, a compassionate, gentle smile that took him by surprise. “I don’t want to see you so troubled.”

Byakuya stood there speechless, thoroughly shocked. She was worried about him! She had sensed something was bothering him and she was worried about him! Strange, foolish, child of a woman. Did she have no sense of self-preservation? She should have worried about herself! He’d brought her to his world where she had no allies, under forced coercion and with little information. He could have slit her throat and no one would have been able to lift a finger to save her. She wouldn’t have been able to lift a finger to save herself! Instead of worrying about her situation, lamenting her position, she wanted to help him unburden himself? Lunacy. The woman was perfect for Abarai if ever there was a woman perfect for him.

“I will show you to your temporary quarters,” was all he said in response, however, leading the way this time and trusting her to follow. He made sure to take dignified calm steps, to betray no further agitation and to allow her to follow him at her own dignified pace. He didn’t want her running after him like some serving girl. She would induce enough gossip as it was.

The servants in the halls of the manor blinked, open confusion in some of their eyes, speculation in others. He ignored them all, walking directly to the guest rooms usually reserved for diplomats and nobility, then opened the door to the sitting chambers where, he was pleased to see, everything had been prepared for the arrival of a guest, as he had ordered. He waited for her to step timidly into the room, her eyes lingering on the terrace it opened to and the pond in view. Placing the two traveling cases carefully inside the room, he began to shut the sliding door behind him, leaving it open a crack. This way, he sent a clear message of privacy, but also left enough open that virtue, his virtue or her own, weren’t being speculated about.

“Byakuya-sama,” she said suddenly, her voice sounding very far away. She didn’t turn to face him only stood looking out at the pond, as though speaking to the water rather than him. “There are certain details of this arrangement that are unclear to me. I presume after we are wed, we will be sharing quarters.” Here she turned to face him, only a tilt of her neck and shoulders, nothing more. “Do I presume correctly?”

A lesser man would have run screaming into the woods. Byakuya shifted his feet.

She seemed to accept this as an answer to her question and nodded. “I assume then that this, like all political unions, will be heavily dependent on… children.”

Byakuya caught his hand halfway to his head, about to run through his hair in agitation. Instead, he fingered his scarf as though adjusting it and firmly put his hand back at his side.

But she nodded again, as though he had given her all the answer she had expected. “Then there are some things I should tell you. About… my abortion.”

He was sweating! She was actually making him sweat! Byakuya took a moment to calm himself before responding. “Perhaps now is not the time nor here the place to discuss this, Reiko-san.”

Her face hardened slightly, and he instantly regretted the words. Surely this was difficult for her to talk about, possibly more difficult for her to talk about than it was for him to hear it. He should have thought of that before he said it. He had never been a sensitive man.

He walked out to the terrace, folding himself elegantly on one of the seats placed there to appreciate the view. It was a soothing view, and he hoped it would soothe him enough to get through the following conversation without becoming an emotional cripple. The girl followed slowly and folded herself into the neighboring seat, just as elegantly, with grace befitting a woman born to his world, not hers. He waited patiently for her to start, though the faraway look in her eyes made him wonder if she even remember where or when she was.

“His name was Akira,” she said then, again her voice faraway, and Byakuya appreciated the need to be distant when speaking of something difficult. “He was working with the construction workers that were making repairs on O-jii-san’s store. He was a country boy, rough around the edges, clumsy and large, but kind and polite. At first I only used him as a way of irritating my grandfather,” she blushed as though ashamed of her past actions, “but then I truly cared for him. He was the only boy that never treated me like I was beneath him, like I was a delinquent doomed to a life on the streets. And he was big and strong, bigger than most of the men he worked with, though he was so kind I’d never seen him fight with anyone. He made me feel safe, nonetheless. But all that my grandfather saw was a low class country lout. O-jii-san was furious. He tried to make me stop seeing him. It didn’t work. We truly cared for one another. We might have been in love, but I was so young, who could possibly tell? And then, I discovered I was pregnant, and Akira was… overjoyed. Like I said, he was a country boy, and to him having a family, a wife and child, was everything he ever wanted. I was frightened. I wanted to marry Akira, but I didn’t want to be a mother. My grandfather showed me a picture of my mother. He told me how young and foolish she had been at my age. He asked me if I wanted to bring a child into the world that would-” her voice cracked and her face was stone as she recollected herself. “He asked me if I wanted to bring a child into the world that would be just like me. I didn’t. I let him convince me to have an abortion. I didn’t tell Akira about it until after it was done.

“I ran away to see him the same night, still sore and tired, and explained to him the fear, the uncertainty. I told him we could be together, we could marry, and wait a few years before having a child. We would be so happy together. But his eyes looked… so hurt. He was so betrayed. He said I killed his baby, and he couldn’t even look at me anymore. He said he would never forgive me, and it hurt him not being able to forgive the woman he loved. I was too ashamed to go back to my grandfather. I blamed him on some level. I couldn’t return and face him again, prove to him that he had been right, that Akira would leave me, that I would be left alone, that I had no one in the world but him to turn to. What I did or how I lived while I was a runaway is not important here. The important thing is that every day since I have regretted that abortion. I had been more than twelve weeks pregnant when I did it. I was certain it was a girl I felt growing inside me. I wanted to name her Hana*. I tried everything to forget what I'd done, to distract myself from the horrible price I'd paid, but nothing helped. I still regret that decision.”

She turned the full power of her dark eyes on him then, and Byakuya found himself facing an intensity previously unseen in this woman.

“I will be a good mother. I know I never had a mother, but that changes nothing. I will be the best mother in the world, in all the worlds, when I have my child. Even if you end up being the father of that child,” she narrowed her eyes in challenge, “I will not let you use my child as a pawn in any of your political games. Do we understand one another?”

Suddenly, Byakuya felt a surge of agreement, a wild untamed desire to protect all of his unborn children form the strings the elders would want to attach, to keep them out of the plots and dramas of the world he lived in. He tried to convey this with his eyes, locking her gaze with his, and nodded firmly. “Yes,” he hissed, his voice heated with the passion of this new mission, “perfectly.”

***

When Byakuya left her alone in the rooms to recuperate, she didn’t move immediately. Reiko sat for hours on the terrace, letting the pond and its perfect surroundings soothe her. Her grandfather would have loved to live in a place like this, all stately elegance and traditions, everyone in appropriate attire, everything as it should have been. Akira would have hated it.

She had told Byakuya more of the story than she had initially decided to, but it had felt right. It had seemed fair to let him know. She had thought about a lot of things in the past days, not all of them wrapped around her broken heart. She knew nothing about Byakuya’s motives or his intentions, but she had guessed right on enough to take a chance. His transparent discomfort at being cornered by her questions, likely more direct than he was used to dealing with when it came to personal matters, had given her small satisfaction.

She had already decided that she was going to do this right. She was going to be the best mother, but she would also be the perfect wife. She would stand beside him, demure and supportive, and she would be his confidant. She already guessed her time with him would be short and irregular. She would focus her existence on her children. Those unborn children that would be the embodiment of everything she had wanted since she had been old enough to realize she was the only girl in school that didn’t have a mother.

Sighing, she got up from the terrace and unlatched her small traveling case, pulling out the portraits of her grandfather and grandmother. Likely they were already incarnated here somewhere, out there in the wide world that was Soul Society. Was keeping a shrine for them even appropriate here? She would have to ask Byakuya about that the next time he came to speak with her.

She set the photos aside and picked up the silver bracelet. Akira had given it to her, when she had first told him she was pregnant. He had told her she would need it, to keep the baby healthy and happy. She had called him foolish and superstitious, but it had made her happier than she could have told him. That she hadn’t sold it or pawned it even when she had slept under park benches in the cold wasn’t a coincidence. She adored the thing, so much so that even after all these years, she still had it. She turned it over and over in her hands, reading and rereading the kanji engravings. Making a decision, she slipped it onto her wrist, and it clicked shut with a comforting secure sound. She needed all the luck she could get now. The bracelet would be a reminder, too. A reminder that from now on, her life was dedicated to not repeating the mistakes she and her mother had made as children.

Finally, she pulled out the bag of herbs and mixes, inhaling the comforting scent and imagining herself back in her little kitchen overlooking the small street she had lived on most of her life. When she had been a teenager, her grandfather had let her live in the upstairs bedroom, and a portion of the store downstairs had been converted to his living quarters. She knew it had been because he was too old to go up and down the stairs, but also because he wanted to keep an eye on her comings and goings, and she hadn’t been able to leave the store without his hearing her. After his death, she had redesigned the entire downstairs portion of the shop, putting the large, clinically clean kitchen in the place where his room had been. Her room upstairs had been converted to an attic during her absence, and she had done little to change it besides moving everything out and having the pipes in the kitchenette and the bathroom checked. She held the bags of herbs to her face and inhaled. It smelled like home.

She reluctantly opened her eyes, reaching for the small string that would summon servants. Byakuya had pointed it out to her before he left. A young serving girl appeared within moments, bowing respectfully and asking if the lady needed anything. The lady! Of all the things she had ever been called, a 'lady' had never been on the list.

Reiko held out one of the small baggies. “Please place this in cold water, and then set it to boil over a low fire until the powder floats back to the surface of the water. Then strain it and serve it. Be sure to leave some for when Byakuya-sama returns, so that he can have some as well.”

The serving girl held the baggy in both hands, her eyes wide and awed. “Hai, Sujishi-dono.”

“Also, please find out for me what herbs are available here, which are best dry and which are preserved fresh. Perhaps also what kinds of fruits grow in your orchards.”

“Hai, Sujishi-dono!” The girl practically squeaked, bowing extra low and rushing out of the room.

Reiko sat patiently to wait for the girl. So they knew her name. Did they know that she was to become their new mistress? If not, what had Byakuya told them? Who did they think she was? There were so many things she needed to ask him about, and yet asking him felt too intrusive. She saw how troubled he always seemed to be, how tense and anxious. She didn’t want to trouble him any further.

Besides, she told herself again, her knowing made little difference on the outcome of all this.

The young girl tapped at the door, sliding it open respectfully with her head bowed, and offered the tray of tea. It smelled familiar, yet somehow more potent than she would have liked. Clearly, whoever had prepared this tea was no master. But she smiled her thanks as the girl poured the tea dutifully, bowing her head again as she offered up the list of available herbs, fruits and their various states of preservation and asking if she required anything else. Reiko shook her head, picking up the porcelain cup and swishing the tea under her nose, putting aside the list for later study. The set was a masterpiece, truly exquisite, with gold trimmings on all the rose petals that made them look like they quivered with life when turned this way and that in the light. She drank her tea, then went back to the terrace and watched the pond some more. Renji was out there somewhere, walking around this world, working or whatever it was shinigami did when they were in soul society. What was he doing? How was he? Her mind raged at her for caring, but her heart still ached for him. Her treacherous heart actually missed him.

***

Byakuya woke up slowly, sitting up in his bed and squinting in the darkness at the presence he sensed in his sleeping chamber.

“Byakuya-sama,” she breathed, and he gulped. It was her! In his room! Standing there while he was in bed!

He clutched the sheets to his waist and squinted harder at the outline he could now make out in the dark. “What is it, Reiko-san?” His voice was surprisingly steady.

“Byakuya-sama, I couldn’t sleep.” She stepped forward into a slanting ray of moonlight, and her face lit up as though glowing, her plain features looking luminous and aristocratic, her pale complexion looking ethereal. She was wearing a soft blue cotton yukata, her hands clutching it at her chest, and Byakuya swallowed again when he realized it was untied. “Byakuya-sama,” she breathed again, and his blood raced at the quality of her voice. She took another step forward, dropping her hands to her waist, and the yukata fell open to expose smooth white skin in uninterrupted perfection all the way down to her navel, the swell of her breasts visible, one of her nipples exposed and hard while the other was tantalizingly hidden behind the drape of cloth. She took another step forward, her hands now reaching out for him, and her sex was visible when the yukata fell open, dark curls glistening damply in the moonlight, making Byakuya stiffen involuntarily. He was erect, and she was going to notice…

And suddenly, she was in his lap, mewling, warm, responsive, panting as she ran her hands over his bare chest, dropping them down and gripping him through the sheet, making him gasp in uncharacteristic surprise and pleasure. He pulled her close to steal her lips with his-

Byakuya sat bolt upright in his bed, panting heavily. Just a dream, it was just a dream. He put his hand to his forehead and wiped away sweat. Just a dream, but he was hard and pulsing now, every inch of his skin tight and sensitive. What kind of dream was that?! Panic filled his mind, panic and loathing and excitement, and under it all, disappointment. Disappointment because he had wanted to see how it ended. Disappointment because he had enjoyed it. Disappointment at waking up before seeing the conclusion, disappointment because it had felt so real and so good to have a woman in his lap, a breathing body that would be his to enjoy and please as he saw fit.

He stared in disbelief at the tent in his sheets. A dream had never done that to him before, not even in his youth when all his cousins had shared whispers about this kind of thing. He felt juvenile and embarrassed, but the hard flesh didn’t waver, didn’t alter in the slightest, and the blood was pulsing inside it, making it ache. Hesitantly, he removed the sheet and brought his hand around his shaft. The ache instantly ceased, and he sighed with relief, but as soon as he released himself the ache started up again with renewed vigor, more painful and more demanding. He wrapped his large hand around it, and again, the ache subsided. It wasn’t that he had never masturbated before. He had been young once, and his hormones had raged even around the less pretty serving girls and students in the academy. But he had thought he had grown out of it, had been certain the age in which such a thing was necessary had already passed. Now, because of a vivid dream that had come out of only the gods knew where, he had to do it again. He moved his hand. It had been so long…

The knock on the door was so startling, Byakuya actually jumped. His heart was racing again, and he hurriedly got up to wrap himself in his thick robe. “Come in,” he almost growled, sitting in his bed and tucking the folds so that his arousal was practically unnoticeable. Whoever it was that had interrupted him was either going to get the finest reward of his life or experience a slow and painful death; he hadn’t decided which yet.

“Byakuya-sama.”

He felt the wind being knocked out from him as though he’d been on the receiving end of a rather nasty kick to the gut. “What is it, Reiko-san?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized they had been the same words he had spoken to her in his dream. His mouth went very very dry, and again he shifted the sheets around him to better shield himself from her view.

“Byakuya-sama, I couldn’t sleep.” She stepped into a slanting ray of moonlight and her face lit up. She was wearing a plain yellow yukata, not a blue one, and it was thankfully tied in a secure but hasty looking knot. Still, Byakuya tensed.

“Perhaps this isn’t entirely appropriate,” he ventured. Maybe she would just leave. She was a polite, dignified woman, after all, and surely she saw how ludicrous this all was. She was in his bedchamber, barely decent, in the middle of the night! “Is there something you wish to discuss at a later time?”

But she took another step towards him, shaking her head and clutching the folds of her yukata. “This cannot wait, Byakuya-sama. I have precious time left before I’m permanently thrown into your world, and I know nothing about it. I know you are important in it, and I know that for whatever reason, I have become important for your plans in it, but that’s all. I thought it didn't matter, that it wouldn’t make a difference, but I have to know. I can be a powerful ally to you, Byakuya-sama, even if I know no one and am of no exceptional strength or beauty. I can help you, I may even want to help you if you would just tell me what it is you mean to do, and why I’m important to your plans. Please, it’s a small asking price for what lies ahead.” Her jaw was set in a firm shape that reminded Byakuya of Rukia. The resemblance was alarming, but also amusing. They would be great friends if they ever got to know one another.

But more importantly, she was right on all counts. It was a small asking price, and though he saw no way she could possibly be a powerful ally to him, she might yet surprise him, as she’d done so many times already. But now that he was asked to explain himself, he found himself lacking the words. He would be hard-pressed to tell her exactly why he was so against the union the elders had planned for him. He knew he couldn’t go with their plans, but he didn’t know why. If he said that out loud, it would seem a poor excuse for ripping her out of her life, her entire world. In a sense, he had killed her, and he couldn’t even satisfactorily explain why to her.

“Please,” she whispered, and the set of her jaw was more resigned than stubborn. She looked defeated, helpless, and he was struck by how weak and fragile she was, this human girl of no exceptional strength or beauty. Her quiet dignity looked strained somehow, as though the very thought of being dignified was exhausting her, and though her shoulders were straight, he got the impression of a hunched back when he looked into her eyes, soft and desperate in the moonlight.

“As far as anyone outside this room is concerned,” he heard himself say, “you came here tonight to share my bed.” He felt no shame in saying this, no embarrassment, but rather a strange sense of resignation, like he too were helpless and defeated. In his inability to explain to her why he had done what he’d done, he found an inability to explain it to himself. The elders suddenly seemed unimportant. Old men and women trying to cling to the last shreds of power and influence left to them, widows and widowers whose children and children’s children had long since abandoned them and asserted their independence for themselves. “I was given little choice in this matter, almost as little as I have given you. I had to marry, and I had to produce heirs. I didn’t want to. I still love my first wife.” As he went on, Byakuya felt like he was floating outside his body and watching himself. “I will always love her. The alternative to marrying you was a power play that would have upset a delicate balance in my world, a power play with potentially disastrous consequences that would have repercussions for centuries, maybe even millennia to come. You do not love me, you love my lieutenant. For now, all you can do is be my wife and bear my children. Just by marrying you, I have accomplished all that needed to be accomplished and averted disaster. The politics in my life will be over.”

Her lips moved wordlessly, as though in prayer, and she lowered her head. “Do people know that I’m your… betrothed?”

“No. The servants may suspect or gossip that you are my lover, but as of now, you are only a family acquaintance.” The entire time at Futaba’s wedding ceremony, Byakuya had been distracted, wondering what it was he had averted. The elders and their plot had plagued him, and his insides had writhed with worry. The sense of imminent danger he always felt and trusted when dealing with the complicated political dance he had become so adept at had thrummed insistently, demanding his attention. The Kuchiki family producing the next commander of the Gotei 13, such a long-term goal and a plan that would take hundreds of years to achieve, had seemed like a looming darkness so far down the horizon he wasn't even sure it was there, and he had tried to comfort his raging thoughts with the certainty that, by marrying Reiko, he had stopped it from ever coming any closer. But as he looked at her in that ray of moonlight, looking like a shattered dream, his heart hammered with discomfort and pain that he knew was not his own. He had used her, perhaps no better than the way Renji had used her, but at least he was telling her she was being used. “Tomorrow," he heard himself say, and again he felt like he was outside his body, "I will announce our engagement to the elders of my clan over tea in the afternoon. I would be pleased if you would accompany me when I do. Your presence… would help me.”

She lifted her head, smiling serenely, as though accommodating the unreasonable request of a child she loved, but also as though it pleased her to be asked. “I will be dressed and ready and by your side, Byakuya-sama.” For all intents and purposes, the smile seemed real, but her eyes were still soft and desperate, and the impression of a hunched back was now the collapsed form of a broken soul in her soft and desperate eyes. She was alive, he saw, but something inside her had died when he had brought her here. The realization had his heart hammering again, and he swallowed a large lump in his throat.

She turned as though to leave, and Byakuya reached out without thinking, stepping out of his bed to catch her by the arm. "Wait." She looked at him with puzzled eyes, and he took a deep breath. “If you leave now, it will be obvious we were just talking.”

She nodded, gazing at him as though his soul lay bare before her eyes.

“Are your accommodations comfortable?” he asked to fill the silence.

She nodded slowly at him. “Hai.”

“Good.” She was still gazing at him when, after an eternity, he let go of her arm and nodded at her, signaling that she could leave. As she left the room, as quietly as she did everything else, Byakuya put his hand over his heart and closed his eyes. The girl was doing something to him, something he didn’t understand.

And he couldn’t stop it.






TBC

***

AN/ Good news is, I'm alive. Bad news is, it's taking me forever to write, one painful paragraph at a time. I know, I suck, but you guys rock, so that's why you've read this chapter despite my great suckiness. And if you have, thank you very very much. The break promises to be busy, but hopefully not so busy that I won't be able to squeeze in one more chapter before the new year. I make no promises, though, because I suck and I don't need broken promises to heighten my suck-factor.

Thanks for your time everyone. Happy tidings! ^^


*PS. 'Hana' means 'flower'.