The Loss Of One To Gain Another

The last chapter title, ‘The Black Butterfly’ was named after Chou which means butterfly in Japanese. Enjoy!

5:30. Sleepy like a dog. Apologize for the lateness and the no doubt barrel full of mistakes. Appreciates the love and reviews. :3 Thank you.

Weekly Tid-bit : Makoto, Chou and Hayato are my first three Bleach OC’s. Usually the word OC makes me cringe. I like already established chars. Less work of development but I chose the OC’ route for this. Hope it wasn’t a mistake.


Chapter three: Daimiki
Word Count: 7777 words hmmm
Un-betaed





A silence as stiff as death hung in the air, breeding and accentuating the palpable tension, which had grown in past weeks. Chou buzzed around wordlessly, wiping down surfaces with deliberately slow movements, pausing to glance at Makoto with each new task.

Out of the corner of his eye, Makoto watched him fold every article of his clothing but said nothing. Chou’s face was twisted in a frown, much was Makoto’s.

Many days they had spent in this terrible silence, filled with things unsaid, and caused by the things that were.

Not known for his patience, Chou had quickly become tired of the hostility, and tried - unsuccessfully- to make peace many times. But Makoto felt no need to reconcile, he held on to his anger and if he did speak to him, the words were few and short and only answered to something he was asked.

Chou could care less about Makoto’s attitude. He did what needed to be done, and even if he was hated for it, Makoto would come to terms with it sooner or later.

He always did.

Chou rolled up his sleeves and started on polishing the floor. He needed tasks to keep his body moving or else his eyes would wonder over to the man and be pulled there. He also needed things to keep his mind busy, left un-occupied it would only conjure up images of their past encounters.

The last thing he wanted to do was make him feel like he had the upper hand. Because he didn’t. He finished sooner than expected and cast around for something else to clean or wipe excessively or shine into oblivion. There was nothing, and so he sat, slowly facing the man, bent on staring relentlessly. If there was one thing he knew about the younger, it was that being constantly stared at made him nervous.

Makoto glanced at him furtively and brought his sake bottle to his lips while watching the flowers sway in the breeze outside. Chou’s brow twitched in frustration, wanting nothing more that to take the stupid thing and empty its contents to better fertilize the grass right in front of Makoto’s face. He restrained himself well, it wouldn’t be in his best interest to do such a drastic thing after walking on eggshells so long.

After several minutes, he noticed that the staring tactic wasn’t working. Had Makoto somehow become stronger without him noticing? No. Impossible. Look at his behavior. He proved that he was still a weak child. Sulking over something like this.

So much so that the sight of his lonely eyes made Chou on occasion want to embrace him, that is, when he wasn’t guarding the Kuchiki boy’s door from who knows what.

A boy protecting his new toy.

Chou wondered how time it would take before he tired of it and discarded it for his favorite. Even if he did consider himself the favorite, it did him little good. Would the favorite be left unattended for so long? Would the favorite have to endure cold nights with nothing to warm him?

Makoto wouldn’t even so much as look him in the eye, and it was becoming difficult to hide the hurt from his face.

A butterfly gently landed on a flower, wings flapping hypnotically, catching both their gazes. Chou’s distracted one and Makoto’s intent one. When Makoto frowned at it, was when Chou decided he’d had enough.

“Ma-chan?” he whispered sweetly, keeping his voice devoid of anything.

Makoto took another sip and this time directed his gaze to the blue sky, pointedly ignoring him.

“How long are you planning to keep this up? ” he asked calmly. Receiving a side-long glare in response he felt his patience shrivel. “You can’t ignore me forever!” His hands clenched oh his lap.

“Man-chan…” His voice dropped to an almost plea, and though it had been a slip, Makoto finally looked at him. His heart squeezed and this time he wasn’t afraid to let some of what he was feeling, his genuine approach, show. If it would get Makoto to talk to him again then it was necessary.

When he spoke it was only one sentence, but his features softened considerably. “I don’t understand you.” It was followed by a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, but Chou knew that it was a respite and that things could be mended from here.

The need to touch him burned his body, but he wasn’t foolish enough to think that he would be granted permission so easily.

He easily slipped back into himself and kept his face blank even though his insides were alight with joy.

Makoto was torn, as if both of his hands were being pulled in opposite directions.

Chou was undeniably smart and to the same degree, cunning. There was nothing he would not resort to, to get what he wanted. What he called ‘life’ was just his way of being cruel to people, justifying it as the harshness of ‘life’.

Makoto knew that there was more to what he was telling him, but if he was ever going to find out, he would have to find a way to look at him without wanting to kill him first.

Though these past weeks had been tolerable with Chou not daring to broach him for fear of an outburst. He’d gotten time to himself, not to mention to keep his clothes on, which was always a good thing.

With their new found agreement, Chou padded across his room to pour himself some of that disgusting stuff he liked to drink.

Chou poured a second cup and placed it on the opposite side of the table. An invitation. Obediently, Makoto sat but didn’t touch it.

“Don’t be that way, its only tea,” Chou chided playfully.

Makoto didn’t waste time, jumping right into what was on his mind. “How’d you do it?”

Chou raised his eyebrows in question. “Hmm? Do what, drink tea?”

“How did you get him to agree?”

“What makes you think he agreed? I could have just dragged him here.”

“You didn’t.”

Chou set his cup down. “Truth is, it’s an interesting story.”

“Eh? Do tell.” Makoto pushed the cup away from himself, just the aroma making him feel sick.

Chou looked affronted but made no comment about it. “I found out some things about him,” he said, letting his voice take on a mysterious air.

“Like?”

“Like, he’s the last member of the once famous Kuchiki clan.”

It was Makoto’s turn to be shocked. “K-Kuchiki.”

Chou nodded gravely. “None other.”

No wonder. “Royalty...” he said thoughtfully, more to himself than to Chou.

“Hardly.”Chou snorted but passed it off as a cough when he caught Makoto’s annoyed glare.

“So it was a healthy dose of blackmail then.” Makoto didn’t know if to feel better or worse at this news. It explained a lot. His hesitancy, his pride. But it didn’t change a thing in his mind; he still didn’t want him working here, and if possible, his resolve was firmer now.

He gave him a room and he knew he’d be in some level of trouble when everyone saw. It was troublesome and frustrating. He was in a position of power and yet he couldn’t do something as drastic as putting him as a class three so soon even though that would ensure his safety for a while.

“Oh come now, don’t be so dramatic. I saved him and he came here isn’t he?” Chou said, a little annoyed by the accusation though it was in a way true. It was a hand he’d rather not played, but it couldn’t be avoided.

“He is not in this place by choice!” And Makoto was shouting again, slamming his fist down and rattling the cup of untouched tea.

“You keep saying this place as if it’s somewhere bad. You’re here too, Ma-chan.”

“Yes, but lest you forget-” He looked away and added softly “I’m not here by choice either.”

“Would you rather go back to how you were before?”

Chou found that he did not feel as much satisfaction when the man’s shoulder drooped and his eyes took on a haunted look. “N-No.”

“Then I don’t think he would either,” said Chou softly, setting down his cup and pushing it away. Somehow, he no longer had the stomach for tea.



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The room was by no means small. In fact, it was fairly large and abundant in windows as it seemed to be at a corner. The furniture- he could tell by looking- was exquisite taste. Rich dark woods- a desk and chair in the corner by a window. Another low table sat in the middle of the room with two red cushions at opposite sides, beneath it, a large cherry-blossom printed rug. Large wall fans and framed pictures of Kimono clad men with painted faces hung from the walls. Byakuya tried not his eyes linger there too long. A bookshelf made of the same dark wood was positioned near the door and on the far side of the room, his futon flanked by two lamps and surrounded by the hanging sheer canopy. The colors were very much his taste; red, black and white.

Whoever had done this was meticulous. He had been transferred to this room only yesterday and could admit - though grudgingly- that he preferred it to the other smaller, sparse one. At least this one showed some signs of life.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend to be back at his own home, in his own room, but the time would inevitably come, when he would have to open them again and face his harsh reality. That he was not in fact at home, but in a whore house where he would be assaulted with dreadful noises every night. Self- delusion would get him nowhere. Instead, he focused on thinking about his situation and conversely, a way out of it.

A dull throb still pained his ribs but it had been worse so he was thankful that it had lessened. What in the world could he do to escape? He was basically a prisoner, but was it not his own doing? He turned his head to look out the nearest window, bright sunlight streaming in and washing over him.

Taking a deep breath and stiffening as there was a knock on the door, Byakuya continued to look outside, but said “Enter”.

He wasn’t too surprised to see the tall figure that slinked in and closed the door. He’d been seeing him over the past long weeks and as always he was followed by the other man he came to know as Chou.

With a smile and a wave of his hand, Makoto approached him. “Yo.”

Byakuya inclined his head in greeting. “Takahashi- san.”

Takahashi Makoto. The owner of this little establishment and his overall caregiver. Unusual as it seemed, he received visits from him every single day, but then again, this was the boss that gave him his ultimatum and sent his thug to recruit him. And who might also be blackmailing him. But Byakuya was unarmed and considered himself lucky that they were still asking his consent for things and treating him like a guest.

“Is the room to your liking?’ Makoto asked, looking around with awe and un-mistakable pride.

Byakuya nodded and he set down a tray with a cup of tea by his side.

“I’m glad. I was worried you wouldn’t like it. Here, I brought this for you.”

“Thank you,” Byakuya replied with another nod, accepting the cup of tea Makoto had presented him and taking a sip. The blend was very appealing. He would’ve guessed that the finer art of tea making would be lost on people like these.

“How are you feeling?” Chou spoke for the first time since entering. He’d taken a seat in the corner under a window, looking around with a mix of distaste and irritation that he apparently wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding.

“I’m-”

Makoto coughed loudly which cause both men to stare at him in confusion.

“Kuchiki-san?” Chou called over his shoulder, recovering first and determined not to let Makoto interfere.

Makoto looked at Byakuya swiftly and made some motions with his face that he couldn’t understand so he dismissed it.

“I’m doing w-” Before he could finish Makoto’s elbow collided painfully with his ribs causing him to grunt in mild discomfort. He hadn’t even seen when the man had moved his hand.

“Are you all right?” Makoto leaned in close to him, hiding his face from Chou’s view and gave Byakuya the tiniest shake of his head.

“As you can see, Chou, he is still n-” A geta colliding with his face cut off whatever he was going to say.

“Why the hell’d you do that for bastard!” Makoto rubbed his forehead. That would leave a mark!

“I SAW THAT!” Chou bellowed, bare foot still held out in kicking position and huffing.

As if now remembering Byakuya’s presence, Makoto, who was a little red in the face, turned away to compose himself. He then turned to face Byakuya again and asked, “M-May I t-tend to your hands?”

He looked about as nervous as he sounded, and even with his back to Chou, he skillfully avoided the second geta that came flying at his skull. Thankfully too, because it was aimed to kill.

Byakuya still had his reservations about these two but co-operation was key now, especially since he was given a choice. He obediently held out his hands.

Every one of his fingers was bandaged, and every time Makoto tended to them, he would sober instantly when he saw them. Makoto examined them and then his face, as if searching for something. The young Kuchiki disliked when he scrutinized him so, and often found it hard to maintain eye contact.

Byakuya looked away, sure it was his imagination when he heard the words, “I’m so sorry,” whispered from his captor, but the way he handled him, almost as if he were a fragile object, was not his imagination. Or was it? It was on his orders that this was done to him in the first place.

Makoto gently lifted each long finger and inspected them, removing the wrappings and exposing the red pigmented skin that were once scratches and scrapes. “I imagine you like to paint?” he asked wistfully.

The question took Byakuya by surprise. He nodded again. Makoto smiled, absently brushing his fingers along the tips Byakuya’s own. “It would suit you. Such delicate hands.”

Byakuya wasn’t sure how to respond, a strange feeling was clawing its way up his chest and he was unsure about how to interpret it. Politeness kept him from wrenching his hands away.

“What else do you like?” asked Makoto with something akin to curiosity making his eyes glow. It was sign of how much time had passed that the man felt comfortable enough to ask him questions. At first, he would merely greet him and tend to him, and as the days turned to weeks he ventured a question or two. But nothing so personal.

Byakuya opened his mouth -to answer? – when Chou cleared his throat.

“In any case, Kuchiki –san, you’ve been here a total of three weeks and some, living free off other’s hard work and sacrifices. How long do you plan to do this?” he said saccharinely.

The bluntness of the question was like a smack across the face, and bothered Byakuya more than shocked him, but he was expecting this conversation from the moment he was brought here. The entire left side of Makoto’s face twitched, unconsciously squeezing Byakuya’s hand, only letting go when he winced, patting them in silent request for forgiveness.

Byakuya eyed Chou, who hadn’t taken his eyes off him, waiting for his no doubt well calculated answer.

Byakuya knew that he had only allowed himself to be brought here because it was what the situation had called for. He was in no condition to fight and if he’d denied, it would only result in his death or being dragged here. So while his body was still intact, he’d agreed. Another grate at the shattering pieces of his pride.

He would have to be tactful if he wanted to escape. Wait for the opportune moment and then take it in one swift strike.

But there was still the matter of his identity, if the shinigami were contacted, and if a bounty were to be placed on his head. It would only make it troublesome for him to hide. And without provisions and shelter, how long would he last this time? If they even had a general idea of where he might be, they would start from there and spread out, wasting no time in finding him.

He had no way to protect himself. He would surely be found. His hands were literally tied. He had no choice but to do what this situation called for in order for him to survive.

“It only seems fair that I… repay my debt.” Even as he said it, with only the intention of satiating the man asking, he could admit that he felt a sliver of trepidation at these words.

“I knew you would see it our way. You can start tonight then.”

Makoto finally let Byakuya’s hands drop and stood to look at Chou who smiled and covered the lower half of his face with his sleeve. “There’s been dangerous talk Ma- chan. We wouldn’t’ want to lose several for the sake of one.”

They stared at each other for a long time. A power struggle? Byakuya thought.

He couldn’t see Makoto’s face as he spoke next. “Understood. He will start as a class one. That would be appropriate, I think.”

Chou faltered a bit and grunted.

“I will prepare him.”

“There’s no need for that, Ma- chan, I’ll do it. Besides, I’m better suited for it.”

“I said I-”

“I’m sure you have more important things to do than lounging around with the workers isn’t there,” Chou interrupted in a tone above his that could have easily been an order.

There was a tense moment before Makoto turned to leave, muttering, “Of course.”

Chou then resumed speaking to Byakuya, rising and padding over to him. “Now that that’s settled. We’ll have to find a name or you, for obvious reasons.”

“I already have one,” Makoto said form the door, making both men turn to look at him.

“Daimiki, is what he will be called from now on,” he amended with a glance at Byakuya, sliding the door shut.

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Chou ground his teeth.

Makoto possessed the innate talent for rubbing him the wrong way and surprisingly so because he wasn’t overly sensible or annoying. He just seemed to want to clash heads with Chou’s opinions every possible time an occasion presented itself.

And always slamming things! Shoji doors didn’t put themselves on! They cost money. Makoto and his explosions made them spend more money than he earned the shop with his soft ways.

Just look at this room!

You would think they were at some kind of palace the way this thing was decorated. Not even Chou’s room was so nice. Hell, not Even Makoto’s room was this nice. He put this much effort into doing something like this for the Kuchiki while he slept in a cave and Chou in a miniature one that was barely spruced up with his own touches to make it feel homely?

This had obviously come out of Makoto’s personal stash. Chou had wondered what he did with all the money he earned. He didn’t buy a thing except for sake and a new kimono when he felt like indulging.

Chou would call him a cheapskate if he didn’t know the real reason was that Makoto probably didn’t know what to do with it. Not being a man accustomed to money and the freedom it brought, he simply put it away until he could find a use for it. And the only thing that that came to his mind - a simple thought really – was to shower it on someone else. A selfless thought.

He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. He was not that someone.

The afternoon sun was already casting shadows. Night was drawing closer.

With a huge grin he hoped was friendly enough, Chou beckoned Byakuya over to his new fancy little bureau and examined one of the many ornate brushes that were laid out there. Pretty things they were.

Where had Makoto acquired such things?

Chou started brushing his hair with long strokes, taking delight in knowing he was denying Makoto this little pleasure. He, unlike Chou, didn’t have the gift of concealing himself. He wore his heart on his sleeve, where it could be seen by all, and therefore exploited.

What was it about this person that he found so riveting anyway? He was handsome, yes, but could he even hold a candle to Hayato? (He was basically contradicting himself. He’d brought him here because he thought he could, but he ignored that little fact for his own self –satisfaction). Chou wasn’t very fond of self-righteous voices either, so he silenced the one in his head that kept insisting he deserved what he was getting; whispering that he was the one who brought him back, and Makoto had nothing to do with it.

But that aside, the boy wasn’t anything extraordinary. He rarely spoke and even though he was polite, it always felt somewhat cold. Like his polite behavior was only natural, embedded in him from his first breath, something that he had no control over it. And if he hadn’t had the proper training, he would have already told them off with every foul word imaginable. So it was only natural that with his surly disposition, Chou had concerns about his ability to be a host.

A class one at least needed to be jovial and warm. They had to be able to strike up conversation when the moment arrived. That was after all, the main function of their job. He shrugged. Oh well, his looks will make up for what he lacks.

Chou examined his handiwork in the mirror, and with one last brush of his silky tresses, gathered it some to the top of his head in a knot held in place by a gold fastener, and let the rest cascade down his back. He set some loose to fall into his face, just to soften it a bit.

“There we go. Perfect,” he said with a smile at how easily he slid back into the comfort of being pampered.

Chou poured Byakuya a fresh cup of tea and when he sat at the table with him, he asked, “Do you have any questions? I’m sure there’s a lot you want to know.”

He didn’t really expect the Kuchiki to have questions. He was sure the boy desired no less tan to kill them all slowly, but tolerated them because there was no other choice. At the moment.

He did in fact have a question.

“What exactly does a class one do?”

A logical question. Chou took a sip of his tea and tried not to grimace. Awful. Figures it was a bad idea to let a man who hated tea prepare it. The flavor was too subtle.

“There are three levels of workers here,” he began. “A class one is the basic host, for those who aren’t blessed aesthetically, those who want a mild setting, or those who are just starting out, like you. They serve the customers and make friendly conversation while others entertain -which reminds me, do you have any special skills?”

He made sure to emphasize the two words to make sure Byakuya knew he wasn’t talking about things like painting.

He caught on quickly and asked, “In reference to what?”

“Parlor tricks. Some sing, some dance, some…”

“No, I do not possess any skills of that kind.”

Chou sighed and shook his head. What a mechanical tone of voice he had and his face didn’t change when he talked!

“Well it wouldn’t hurt to learn something. Maybe you’d like me to ask someone to teach you?”

The look on his face said it, the way his brow furrowed, but he voiced it anyway. “That is not necessary.”

I thought as much. “Uh… okay then. Well… think of a class one as a waiter in a restaurant.”

Byakuya very, very, slightly, nodded.

“Class two, ” Chou paused here to choose his words wisely, the least he could do was sugar coat it to make it easier to swallow. “-Pleasures the guests.”

To his credit, he didn’t flinch, cringe or show his disgust.

Taking this as an incentive, Chou continued.

“As a class two, you can be chosen by any customer. If you are well sought after, then you reach the highest promotion and move to a class three. A class three has many privileges. You will only be chosen by a select group of patrons, who are approved, meet the requirements and who can afford you. And you will come at a high price. You then have the freedom to refuse them but you still have a quota to fill so don’t think you can refuse them all. How much money you make, secures your rank and how you are treated. In short, how you live here depends on how much money you make.”

Kuchiki was staring hard at the steaming cup in front of him, hands folded neatly in his lap. Chou wondered if he understood or just blanked out what he had said. He had been a bit long- winded.

“And what class are you?” he asked after a hefty silence.

“I’m a class three… and I have one patron of my choosing.” Chou answered truthfully but didn’t like where the conversation was going so he steered it away. “We open for business at night and rest during the day. Class three’s can have visits from their patrons during the day if they so wish. They may also leave for visits outside for personal reasons. Only class threes receive payment. Half of what they earn. If-”

There was a loud series of knocks outside the door, attracting both their attentions.

“Yes?”

Sliding open the shoji door was a small faced boy who bowed his head, pushing forward a parcel in his hands. “Courtesy of Makoto –sama.”

Another gift!? How ridiculous. Chou frowned but took it.

Unfolding it, he held it out at arm’s length. A new kimono. Spring blue, deepening purple at the bottom and ripples of white flowers.

He looked back to find Kuchiki only watching him from the corner of his eye.

“You should be more grateful. This cost Ma-chan a lot of money. He’s a very generous man.”

Byakuya coldly averted his eyes. After a venomous glare, of course. All Chou could do was to sigh again, entertaining visions of how nice this Kimono would look on him and the many ways he would show his gratitude.




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Byakuya had never left his room the entire time he was there, save for when he first arrived and when he switched rooms. The shop at night was a different affair from the shop in the day, he observed.

As soon as he stepped out of his door, he felt as if in another world. Red paper hand been slipped in floor lamps that lined the hallway and each door had two lamps flanking it. It made everything eerie and surreal. At the end of the corridor, there laid a staircase leading upwards. He could already hear the footfalls of people walking above.

No later than when twilight had set in and the few stars appeared above, Chou came to fetch him. He’d offered to help him dress, which Byakuya declined. The state of his hands incapacitating, he still managed.

“Ready?” he’d asked, after a grueling ten minutes, looking him over and sizing him up as if expecting him to be untidy or half dressed. In any case, Byakuya could have sworn he caught a disapproving look when Chou saw just how tightly he had his kimono wrapped around himself, revealing little to none of his skin.

“Wouldn’t hurt you to show a little more skin you know.”

I think it would was what Byakuya thought but didn’t say for Chou also had his clothing tightly clinging to his body, exposing absolutely nothing.

Walking directly behind him and actually standing in his presence, Byakuya truly noticed how small the man was. He barely scrapped Byakuya’s shoulder and his petite frame could almost be feminine. He was again dressed in a red kimono, patterns of dark branches reaching across, and his azure hair just brushing below his ears.

He was led down a set of stairs, catching glimpses of the people scurrying below. They emerged down into a small room and through its door Byakuya could see the main area.
In front of him, Chou stopped, so he also halted. A group of young males quickly stopped what they were doing to throw themselves on the floor to bow in front of Chou.

Chou received great pleasure from this.

“You may raise your heads. I have someone I would like to introduce.”

As if reluctantly, they one by one looked up at them with varying reactions. One thing that jumped right to the forefront was their exotic looks. Each of them had unique attributes that would set them apart from others. From the unusual shades of their hair, to their eyes, and even right down to their skin.

“I’d like you to welcome K –Daimiki -san, the newest member of our little family,” said Chou, turning to look at him with a little tremble. It was impossible for him to fabricate anything resembling a friendly gesture, so he didn’t, to which Chou frowned and steered him around them, calling over his shoulder, “Okay, get to work!”

“Why do they bow to you? Takahashi-san is in charge,” he asked, not caring that they weren’t out of earshot and several eyes were glued to his back.

“They’re class ones and twos. I’m a three so that makes me their superior. I told you, class determines how you are treated. That’s something you should know well.”

In the main area, there was a buzz of conversation and laughter and a lingering smell Byakuya couldn’t pin-point the origin of. He doubted he could even if the layer of smoke hovering above them was gone. Additional lamps and added paper lanterns splayed more of the dizzying red light.

“Hmm, looks like a full house, excellent night to make your debut, Daimiki –san,” Chou tip-toed up to whisper in his ear.

Indeed the space was packed to capacity; every table contained a drunken man, surrounded by exotic boys engaging them in mindless conversation while inebriating them to the point of madness.

Surely he couldn’t be expected to do the same.

An elevated part of the ground- just next to the entrance to the back room where he was standing- was acting as a stage, and being utilized by two scantily clad men making use of poles rooted to the ground and stretching to the ceiling in motions they would probably consider dancing.

A separated area on the opposite side which held limitless flasks of alcohol was pointed out to him as where he would refill.

“Good luck!” Chou said, shoving a warm sake bottle and sakazuki into his hand, his eyes turned up with laughter.




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No more than a half of an hour later, Chou was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Keeping out of sight in a dark corner, he thought it was best to keep an eye on the Kuchiki for a while. He still wasn’t sure if it was a good idea –to keep an eye on him, that is. A headache was coming because of what he was seeing.

“How’s it going?” an all too cheery voice asked from behind him. Makoto threw his arms casually over Chou’s shoulders and rested his chin in the man’s mess of azure hair.

“Not well,” he replied, his irritation forgotten for a minute and replaced with a warmth at Makoto’s simple gesture. It would be meaningless to the other party but it wasn’t to him.

Makoto laughed, sending the vibrations through him. Byakuya was sitting rigidly, hands clasped in his lap next to a very frightened looking man who didn’t even touch the sake bottle in front of him for fear of a painful death from the daggers Byakuya were shooting. They were quiet. Very quiet.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

Makoto Laughed again. “That shouldn’t be any bit surprising Chou –chan, considering that’s how he always is.”

“This isn’t funny Ma-chan. Do you have any idea how bad this is for business.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Makoto said, standing straight and stretching his arms upward.

“Where are you going?!”

“Surely, you don’t expect me to help do you. I have work to do but have fun!” Makoto said already halfway up the stairs and waving.

Makoto was obviously ecstatic about this but Chou was seething! Kuchiki- san had potential but it would never be realized if things continued like this.

So, sauntering up the two flights of stairs, he stopped at the third door. He slid open the door, not bothering to knock.

Inside Hayato was checking his reflection in a full length mirror, adjusting the sleeves of his sky blue kimono.

He spotted Chou in the mirror and turned around, smiling broadly. “Well looky looky what we have here. Considering adding me to your clientele?”

It was a spur of the moment kind of decision that brought him here to this man, seeking something he was not likely to get. It was not too late to turn back. Chou watched the rising smoke from burning incense coiling upwards, milling over what he was going to say in his head.

“As if. And you should only light those things when your guests arrive,” Chou warned. It was a good idea to keep an eye on those things.

“Ahh but you see I had a premonition you would visit me so I lit it especially for you.” He teased a lock of his magenta hair, curling it around his finger and then letting it fall into his eyes. Stepping in front of Chou, he ghosted a finger tip over his cheek. “But I doubt that’s what you came here to say so, what can I do for you tonight, little Chou?”

Chou ignored the silly pet name that he normally would not. “I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

“And what might this favor entail?” he asked silkily.

Chou braced himself. Hayato was in a favorable mood but still….

“Byakuya-san is new and he doesn’t know the ropes-”

It didn’t even take a minute for the expected outburst to come. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Chou!” Hayato exclaimed, that wild look that lay dormant in his eyes coming forth.

“I’d be grateful to you if you could assist him. Just entertain his patron. Don’t let him do any talking. Conversation seems to be lost on him. Just show him-”

“There aint no fucking way I’m helping that Kuchiki bitch!” Snarling he turned back to the mirror, tugging at his sleeves and avoiding eye contact.

“Please Hayato…” Chou plowed on.

“Absolutely not! I’d rather die than help-”

“The shop needs the money!”he snapped before he could stop himself.

“What?” Hayato froze.

He hadn’t meant to say it but it was out now and it could not be retracted. With a sigh, he conceded that there was no point in hiding it further. He might as well continue. Hayato wouldn’t leave him be after saying something like that.

“Business isn’t good. We need the money to survive. Other than you and I there are only two other class threes. It isn’t enough.”
“ We need him,” he amended softly.

“What?” Hayato’s echoed dumbly, mouth flapping open. His ears must be deceiving him. They were having money troubles? He whirled around.“S-Since when?”

Chou exhaled, the only indication that the conversation was bothering him. “A while.”

“Wha-”

“There are plenty of class two’s, but they aren’t requested enough to make it to class three. They don’t make enough money and try as they might, the class one’s tips aren’t enough. We’ve got competition. The Green Dragon over there in forty-fourth. We need this or we’ll all be back out onto the streets!”

Chou was panting; having released all that he’d kept bottled inside he now felt empty, but he refused to break. He met Hayato’s eyes and held them, refusing to look away as the gravity of their situation crushed down on their shoulders.

Hayato on the other hand still hadn’t gotten around to his unhinged his jaw and his eyes remained wide. He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear the fog that had settled in his brain.

“O-Okay, I understand that maybe we’re in some moderate shit, but I don’t see why we need him. I could handle it. If I take on more offers I can-”

“You can’t do it on your own!”

“Well I sure as hell don’t need his fucking help!”

Hayato’s stubbornness was exhausting and the headache that had been quiet to allow him his shouting match was screaming again. “This is not up for discussion, Hayato.”

The both stood straighter, weighing the other’s determination.

Chou turned away to leave. Hopefully, something would come out of their little screaming session other than the whole third floor hearing them bicker like an old married couple.

“I’d do anything for you, Chou,” Hayato said to his retreating back. “You know that.”

Chou tensed and nodded but said nothing.

“Except this,” he added quietly after he left.

^)^)^)^)^)^)^)^^(^(^(^(^(^(^(^(^(^(^)^)^)^)^)^)^)^)^(^(^(^(^(^


Three weeks. Three short weeks was all it had taken from Byakuya’s entrance into the night world for him to become sought after and on some level, enough to warrant the rank of a class three. Makoto was surprised, unpleasantly so, by this. It was not Byakuya’s doing, he knew that, if anything he was just as startled as Makoto was at his sky-rocketing popularity.

Because, to be one hundred percent truthful, Kuchiki-san was a poor host. The worst he’d had in a while actually. He still chuckled to himself every time the vision of the man’s petrified face came to mind and the way he nearly broke the door down trying to escape. Kuchiki’s first customer and what he thought would have been his last. It was funny then. It was even funnier watching him serving people. An individual like himself was not brought up in any way to serve or to be less than anything or anyone, and here he was, serving what he must have thought to be lower class peasants considering his background and how he was brought up.

Often the tokkuri and sakazuki were thrown down on the table, or slammed down if the patrons looked at him for more than six seconds –and that was if he was in a good mood. When he wasn’t, sake would be thrown in faces, in heads of hair and down crotches. What was even funnier, was when anyone had the bright idea to grope him from in front or behind when he passed. People were throttled, tables were overturned, so many things broken and all the sake lain to waste. Ahh the ruckus.

He hadn’t had so much fun in years! Not that it was fun watching him being touched by others, but his reactions were priceless.

But what was not funny -what was not entertaining or hilarious or even remotely amusing, was when people’s attitudes towards him changed. One incident that lingered in Makoto’s mind that he remembered clearly was a week back.

He’d been doing a routine check of the general area to make sure everything was in order. That was his sole reason really…. If he so happened to be in the opposite place of where Chou was, well that that was pure coincidence.

It wasn’t like he was finding things to do so the he wouldn’t be alone with him. Right? Right.

Kuchiki-san had been sitting at the very end of table. He had the unfortunate pleasure of having a man by the name of Oshirou Akio that night.

Akio was a callous man, hard jawed and rugged. He looked good for his age and he was by no means young. His black hair had only a few white strands running through, and his blue eyes were cold and hard. A jagged scar sealed his left eye shut and he made up for it by training his right eye to see everything short of the particles in the air.

Makoto watched as the man eyed a bit of exposed skin from a gap in Kuchiki-san’s kimono with frosty hunger. “Pour me some sake.”

Kuchiki refused, he didn’t even look his way. Akio wasn’t deterred by this. “I said, pour me some sake,” he repeated tapping the cane hat he carried –though it wasn’t needed –against the floor. His cold eyes slid over Byakuya’s fingers and the numerous bandages across his body. This made Makoto shudder.

Aiko was known for his wealth, but every time he came he just drank sake, engaged the class ones in talk and watched the little performances on stage. He never requested anything higher than a class one. Pinching his pennies or whatever his reason.

Byakuya replied with a look of utter hatred. He didn’t have enough time to react, Makoto hadn’t even seen when the man moved, but faster that lightning he had sprang up and lashed Byakuya across his fingers with his cane, squeezing his jaw with a big hand and forcing him to meet his eyes.

All Makoto could think was oh shit. His heart hammered against his rib cage. He’d heard rumors, but that was all he thought them to be. Now he knew they were not. This man was dangerous. Not someone to mess with.

“Now, in the future, when I tell you to do something, I trust you’ll obey?”

His foot come up to the table with ease crushing the fingers, while the other hand continued its bruising squeeze.

“No?”

Makoto was willing Byakuya in his head to just say yes. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t.

Akio laughed dryly. “I like your type. I’ll take pleasure in making you obey.” It was a threat with the promise of being carried out.

They had an audience by now, every eye drawn to their little scene. And those who were like Akio, those who got immeasurable pleasure from dominance, were especially attentive. Those who craved the credit for the subjugation of a wild beast. Those who lived for the thrill and adrenalin rush of taming the untamable. And that was what Kuchiki-san was.

Makoto still had a reputation and image to uphold, so he’d chosen that exact moment to come out. Casting an indifferent look on the Kuchiki heir as he would a regular worker, he’d politely reminded him that ill treatment of the charges wasn’t tolerated. Akio had indulged him with an apologetic nod of the head and a bulging satchel for his misconduct.

He’d turned away, using all his strength to ignore Byakuya and his trembling hands, but the damage had already been done.

The hungry looks were already eating the Kuchiki alive. He was young, beautiful and most importantly, a challenge. An obstacle to overcome in order to gain the ultimate prize.

Word spread quickly throughout the districts, too quickly, and Kuchiki –san was at the stage now where everyone knew the name Daimiki of Ecstasy.

Chou, had been sulky and reserved for a week. Makoto figured it was because Kuchiki –san wasn’t doing so well and he was correct because as soon as the tables turned, he was walking on air. He was still a little too light footed even today when he told Makoto that he’d be in his office at one o’clock that afternoon for a discussion.

It was cryptic but it was still the middle of the day so Makoto didn’t have to worry about him using that as an excuse and jumping him as soon as he went in.

Knowing full well that he detested tea, Chou still insisted he brew some and bring two cups. Stopping outside the door to his office, he winced when he thought about all cleaning Chou might be up top. Honestly what was it with them and cleaning?

He opened the door, balancing the trey in one hand. “You’d better not be t-”

His gaze fell upon a second guest in the room who Chou had just turned away from talking to.

“Oh, Ma- chan. What took you.”

“K-Kuchiki- san…”

He found it strange, how Byakuya wasn’t looking at him. He found it strange how Chou was trying to wrestle his features into choosing between showing his contriteness or his victorious smirk. “I was just explainging to Kuchiki –san here, what you discussed with me last night.”

Last night…. What the….what is he talking about?

Makoto’s voice failed him. Why was Byakuya here?

What was this foreboding feeling?

Chou finally decided on an expression. Malevolent, victorious toothy sneer. “You know, about his promotion to a class two. It’s well earned and a wise decision on your part, Ma-chan.”

With a loud crash,two expensive tea- cups and ceremonial tray were added to the list of replaceables.



Tokkuri – Sake flask
Sakazuki –saucer-like cup used to drink sake

Daimiki means Great beautiful noble in Japanese