The wisdom of a stray dog

Author’s Note: Fifth chapter, but not the last one. The final part of this story is already in progress. British spelling, vocabulary, idioms and grammar – The Explanatory Notes published and the end of chapter. Renji has to speak slang, so I made him sound like a Scotsman. All “spelling mistakes” made in Renji’s speech are deliberate.

Main Characters: Byakuya; Renji; Zabimaru; Ichihana-san, jimae-no geisha
Pairings: Byakuya x Renji, implied Ichihana+Renji
Summary: Under the beautiful colouring a dirty truth lies. Byakuya, on the verge of decision of committing suicide, makes the most priceless discovery in his life.

Rating: R/NC-17, mildly graphic, no physical violence during sex, no rape etc. Bittersweet sex, shameless proclamation of “ownership” ;-)
Genre: Dramatics/Romance
Disclaimer: BLEACH does not belong to me. At all.
Music: “Ghost Story” Sting; “Roxanne” The Police (yes, THAT song!!!)
Dedication: to all Byakuya x Renji fans
Word count: 2624 (oh waily waily)
Motto: “They say that the prospect of being hanged in the morning concentrates a man’s mind wonderfully (...)” – Terry Pratchett “Going Postal”

BREAKING THE GLASS
(Sarugaku)

He woke up with the sensation of a blissful oblivion. Finally could he claim not remembering anything. He woke up painless, comfortably numb, his mind focused and conscious, sharp like a blade. Abarai Renji got his freedom back. He was independent, self-confident once again. Now he belonged to himself only. No bitterness, no regrets, no sadness, no remorse, just numbness and peace...

Today was the fifth anniversary. Just another fact. But it was time for a change as well. Renji took a small, silver photo frame from the mahogany desk standing beside the bedroom window and held it in his hands for a long while, studying the photograph. The beautiful, delicate face with steel grey, glittering eyes and straight, black eyebrows looked at him from behind the glass, the coldness and distance emanating from it as usual.

That photograph was the only precious thing he took with him before leaving Ichigo and Rukia’s house. At first, he used to carry it everywhere he went, even during the meetings he kept in the inward pocket of his vest or underneath his dark green some, made of the finest, matte silk shantung.

For his tenth go-shûgi he bought a silver frame incrusted with the mother-of-pearl. For many months it stood on the inner window sill – Renji had almost literally no furniture in his flat at first, deciding to rent something more spacious and in better condition rather than to live in a smaller, less prestigious place and buy himself a modern bed, a table and a chair to sit on. For half a year he slept on the futon, ate simple meals and saved all the money he didn’t have to spend for rent, bills or food. Iwasake-san provided him everything necessary for the meetings and performances, and Renji was determined to pay his debt a soon as possible. Tora-tora or Janken game followed by a story of a wounded samurai and his daimyo (or a small fragment of the Tied to the Stick) three evenings a week, late night meetings in various places approximately four times a week. The former fukutaichou of Gotei 13 now had three personalities: one day he was Mamoru, the other he had to become Iwao. Various clients who paid him pictures of the queen after he had ‘satisfied’ them, dear clothes bought in the posh boutiques, costly drinks and restaurant dinners, a new, black Lamborghini Gallardo – the car of his dreams... silk sheets and beautiful furniture... But during the nights he spent on his own futon or in his own bed, Renji was himself again and all he truly wished for was to disappear. Sometimes he cried himself to sleep, embracing the silver frame with Byakuya’s photograph placed safely behind the diaphanous, brittle surface.

At one of the ozashiki-asobi he met Ichihana, who was one of the jikata. The undeniable beauty of her face and graceful movements of her hands caught his attention almost immediately, but when it became obvious that she can play nagauta as well as kouta, he decided to find the way to be introduced to her. Since that evening, he had always asked for her as the accompanist during his performances and never regretted that: she was an excellent musician and an intelligent, reliable person.
Renji even went as far as trying to make love to Ichihana: he liked her appearance and she was attracted to him.
They knew that a probability of anyone knowing about them was minor and so Renji kissed her, touched her soft, round breasts and caressed the porcelain skin... without any ecstasy, without desire burning inside his lonely heart.
Ichihana proved a gentle, considerate person, when, after few minutes of the fruitless attempts to imagine that Ichihana was Byakuya, Renji started crying, apologised to her and began repeatedly whispering words “I’m so sorry, my black-haired angel of death... I’m so sorry, me luv...”, while staring into the emptiness.
It was that night when Renji told Ichihana the story of his one-sided affections towards the beautiful nobleman – though never mentioned his lover’s name or their professional relations. Ichihana listened patiently, neither interjecting her opinions, nor denying Renji’s feelings.
They have been friends ever since. Or rather: their relationship was as close to friendship as it could be.
She knew him very well, almost read him like a book. But Renji was determined to keep his secrets to himself. He did not tell his real name as well.
They’ve never crossed the lines again.

************

“You have changed, Mamoru-kun” Ichihana calmly stated, pouring the green tea from a black porcelain teapot. She handed Renji one of the bowls, her movements graceful and elegant.

Dressed in white and dark red coloured some tsukesage with long sleeves and a subtle pattern of the cherry tree branches and petals, she looked like a woman from Meji era – she reminded him of Ikumatsu. Renji found her porcelain complexion especially aesthetically pleasing: it was so perfect, that – the only one of many geishas he knew personally – she didn’t have to apply make-up. Her black eyes glistened like two pieces of onyx, dark, mysterious and impenetrable. But never were they cold and repulsive like the eyes he used to know a long, long time ago. The steel grey, oh-so-beautiful eyes... He used to dream of them, and of the black, silky lashes as delicate as butterfly’s wings, touching his cheeks, his temples, his eyelids... Whatever he did, he still remembered. “Who am I trying to swindle... I still luv ‘im, always have and always will... Sich a dipstick ye are, Abarai Renji – all ye dream of is to touch ‘im again, to fall into his arms again, to curl at his feet like a faithful dog is supposed to...” he thought, sipping his tea and watching world going by the window.
Suddenly, he felt Ichihana’s intensive gaze on him.
“Aye, ‘ndeed I have, Ichihana-san... And to prove it, I’ve brought ye something...” bowing deeply, handed her a small, black lacquer box.
Ichihana, eyes wide and fingers trembling, opened the box hurriedly. “Hiki iwai!” she whispered under her breath and dropped the box on the tatami, spilling its contains – a red, cooked rice and a small card covered with kanji. “Are you serious, Mamoru-kun? It is a very important decision, should not be made hastily...” she looked at him, surprised and somewhat indignant, black eyebrows knitted over her small, shapely nose.
“Ichihana-san, please read the note... I’m nae Mamoru any more... Paid me debt to Iwasake-san a long time agoo, ye ken. It’s time for a change noo and I jus’ wantae end this part of me life... Close the door behind me, leave and never come backe. As of noo, the sityeeation is nae guid, me livin’ ‘tis life withoot tomorrow, jus’ borrowin’ time to survive a little bit longer. Me real name is Abarai Renji”
“Alright, Abarai-kun... I understand... But your performances were a true delight to everyone’s eyes! And you know so much about swordsmanship and martial arts, you told so many wonderful, vivid stories about adventure and magic... You were a brilliant entertainer and a faithful friend, I shall never forget your kindness and a story about children living in a dirty street of the dangerous district...”
“Aye, Ichihana-san... But whut I dinnae tell ye wuz that ‘tis tale aboot them children is a story of me bloody life, ye ken. Crivens, I’m not used to posh parties, to ozashiki-asobi, to makin’ small talk and minglin’... I’m nae pretender, Ichihana-san” Renji shook his head “B’sides, I used to be a swordsman. Ye ken, Ichihana-san, ‘tis life of mine cannae be wuss than it already is – it can only get better”
“Then, Abarai-kun, I wish you the best on your new way – wherever your life leads you... I hope you’ll find him – your lost love, I mean. I truly hope you do...”
“Ichihana-san, ye shouldnae say thingies like these... I miss ‘im, miss ‘im so terribly that it hurts, but prob’ly we won’t meet ever agin...” Renji replied quickly, turning his head to hide a crimson blush spreading on his cheeks.
“All I can tell you is that there’s always hope, Abarai-kun” Ichihana smiled faintly.
“Oh waily waily, here ye goes agin! How many times do I have to tell ye that I’m nae one of them bigjobs to receive goody gumdrops? If ye think otherwise, ye must be barmy! I’m an ordinary prostitute, nothin’ more!” saying this, Renji got up and walked out of the room.
“I hope that the future proves you wrong, Abarai-kun” Ichihana’s whisper followed Renji as he closed the door behind him.

*****
“How may I help you, sire?” Iwasake Tsunehiko asked the tall, pale, raven-haired man sitting at the opposite side of the antique oaken desk.
“I have heard about your abilities to arrange a professional companionship for men who need such, Iwasake-san” Iwasake’s interlocutor replied, giving him a cold, sharp look.
“Yes, yes, of course! Our customer’s wish is our command, sire” Iwasake felt sudden dryness in his throat and his muscles tense. ‘This man is a despotic and incredibly powerful individual’ he thought. “Would you care to look at some photographs of our best employees?”
“That would be suitable” the answer came short and simple.
Iwasake Tsunehiko handed his client an album filled with glossy, colourful photographs – portraits, nudes, poses...
Kuchiki heir leafed through the album, barely looking at the photographs. Then, suddenly, he became tense and anxious.
“Who... who is this man?” he asked, pointing at one of the pages, his voice barely audible.
Iwasake-san got up, came closer and took a look over his customer’s shoulder.
“Oh, this is the best man you can find it the whole world, sire. But his hourly wage is a grand. Incredibly talented he is and, moreover, a brilliant storyteller – used to be the taikomochi. Wonderful, shapely body. His name is Iwao”
“Iwasake-san, please tell him to come tonight to my residence – here is the address, and here is one thousand pounds. Costs are insignificant – do whatever is necessary”
“Yes, sire”

****
After the nobleman left, Iwasake Tsunehiko picked up his mobile and dialled the number.
“Abarai-san, you have a meeting tonight”

****

Finding the residence was quite easy and Abarai, as the gate opened, drove into the courtyard and parked his Lamborghini Gallardo in front of the impressive looking building.
“Iwao-san? Please, come in” an elderly maid greeted Renji at the door “The master awaits you”
Renji followed her inside the house.
The lamps in the living room were turned off and only the fireplace gave some warm-coloured, dim light. Beside the table, face shadowed, a man wearing a black three-piece suit had been sitting. His hair was cut short, but a long, black fringe covered half of the man’s face down to the shapely chin.
“Sit down, please”
“Can I pinch a fag, mate?” Renji asked, reaching for a silver cigarette box standing on the table and taking one cigarette out of it.
“Yes, if you wish” the other man answered the question absentmindedly.
Renji lit the cigarette up and inhaled deeply.
“Did Iwasake-san explain to you why I wished you to come?” the owner of the house asked in a deep, rich baritone voice.
“Iwasake-san dinnae have to say anythin’... I ken what ye need and ye ken how to make me give it to ye, mate...” Renji crushed the cigarette in the ashtray and got up. Approaching the raven-haired man from behind, he kissed the top of his head gently.
“What... are you... doing?”
“Hush yer gob, ‘tis be fine, geezer... Ye like that?” a slight touch on the cheek. “I’ll help ye reach the stars, mate” the magenta-haired man encircled the other’s waist with his muscular arms, pulling him closer, kissing his neck delicately.
“I do not want you... to touch me!” the brunet freed himself from the other man’s embrace. “I only wanted to talk to someone who... who resembled the one I lost a few years ago” the brunet squeezed his eyelids shut and two translucent, warm tears run down his pale cheek. That man’s touches, his embrace... they felt like Renji’s. The man himself resembled Renji in so many ways – he talked like him, moved like him, had the same hair colour – ‘most probably artificial’, Byakuya thought.
“Oh, dinnae fash yersel’, mister. If ye wantae talk, ‘tis awright with me. Whut izzut ye wantae talk aboot?” Renji sat down in an armchair upholstered with velvet. “Izzut why ye asked specific’ly for me, mate? ‘Cause I resemble him?”
“Yes, you resemble him. Although it was not the only reason why I have arranged this meeting. First of all, I wanted company and a conversation” the raven-haired nobleman replied, trying to regain his calm and self-confidence. “To begin with, I have lost someone immensely important to me a long time ago...” Byakuya said, blushing slightly. “I lost the one I love due to my own mistakes... I have tried to look for him, but he seems to have vanished off the face of the earth – he is nowhere to be found. It has been five years since I last saw him... And all I wanted was to apologise to him for the pain I have caused him, for making him leave the place... the world he belonged to... Wanted to tell him that I still love him. And I wanted to give him this” the black-haired man reached somewhere behind him.

"You were my compass star
You were my measure
You were a pirate's map
A buried treasure"

Byakuya touched Zabimaru and in an instant he could feel someone waiting. He could feel Renji waiting for Zabimaru, even if it had been a subconscious waiting... Renji? The zanpaktou slid out of his hand and began falling down to the floor...

Something awoke Renji’s senses, the ones, seemingly, long forgotten and unused. There was energy in the air... Reiatsu! It hit Renji’s mind abruptly, forcefully. What was even more frightening, that particular reiastu felt painfully familiar... ‘Someone who had been left behind... Someone who had been lonely, mistreated and...’

“Renji!!! RENJI!!!” , two voices – one of the serpent and one of the baboon – shouted in perfect unison, momentarily reaching Renji’s mind and heart.

The redhead reached out instinctively, somehow knowing what direction the reiatsu was coming from. The hard, long object landed on the inner side of Renji’s palm. The long fingers clutched on the cherry wood scabbard, the other hand automatically pulled the blade out of it. It was a well-remembered rhythm, the habitual movement practised for many, many centuries passed.
Renji’s reiatsu emerged and rose suddenly, no longer hidden or tamed by the owner’s will.
“My... Zabimaru...” he managed to utter, his voice hoarse. “How...? Bya... Byakuya???”
“Renji...” it was the only word the nobleman could say.

The world around them vanished within a second. Clinging on to one another, Byakuya and Renji pressed their lips in a mutual, passionate kiss, filled with sadness, overwhelming desire, despair and bittersweet happiness. Teeth clashing, hands everywhere, both men fell on the floor, taking clothes off hastily, their kisses hungry, eyes filled with tears and love... On the hard, wooden floor they made love slowly and tenderly, savouring each moment of it. They made love to one another without regrets, without hesitation... Both reaching the zenith of ecstasy in the same moment, declarations of love strong and sonorous.

****
Byakuya watched Renji sleeping peacefuly, the delicate smile enlightening the redhead’s features. He lift him up and carefully, lovingly carried him to bed.


“Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light
Those days are over
You don't have to sell your body to the night
Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money”

***
“Mine” Byakuya boldly stated, sliding a platinum ring with a square-cut onyx on Renji’s finger. “Forever” he added, looking Renji straight in the eyes.

“I have to tell you just how I feel
I won't share you with another boy
I know my mind is made up
So put away your make up
Told you once I won't tell you again it's a bad way”

“Aye, yers till the bloody end of the world, my black-haired angel of death...” Renji replied and slid a golden ring with a glittering ruby on Byakuya’s slender finger promptly afterwards.


EXPLANATORY NOTES

Sarugaku - literally meaning “monkey music”, a Japanese traditional form of performing art that developed into the prototype of Noh play

Jimae-no geisha – a financially independent geisha

Some tsukesage – a kimono sewn from a dyed piece of silk, appropriate for almost all official receptions, though it is less formal than hômongi (the latter, as far as I know, has richer patterns).

Jikata – literally: a sitting person; a geisha who plays the shamisen - music is her gei, her art
Go-shûgi – a tip

Ikumatsu – a Meji geisha from Gion (not Pontochô!!!); Ikumatsu was Kido Kôina’s wife (see: Geisha by Liza Dalby)
Tora-tora (Tiger-tiger) - a popular game played at banquet between Maiko and Taikomochi across traditional folding screen by posing as any one of the three - a hunter, a tiger and an old woman - so that both can be seen by the guests.
Janken – Rock-paper-scissors game

Tied to the Stick – a Kyogen play (the Americans and Europeans would call it a slapstick comedy) about two servants and their master

Hiki iwai – literally: pulling out; when a geisha decides to stop working as one, she is obliged to show her gratitude to everyone who had contributed to her success – that is the way of untying the ties that bound her with karyûkai (literally: the world of flowers and willows; the geisha community). Enough said that Renji, by placing the red rice inside the box, stated that he does not want to come back to karyûkai ever again.

Dear - expensive
Crivens – used here as a curse word
Posh – elegant, glamorous etc. (Well, we all know V.B. alias Posh Spice, don’t we?)
Pictures of the Queen – paper money, notes (in America it would probably be ‘pictures of the presidents’)
Dipstick – idiot, stupid, dimwit
Ozashiki-asobi – a banquet with maiko and geiko who’s role is to provide entertainment
Goody gumdrops – in this context it means pleasure
Barmy- mad, foolish
Grand – one thousand pounds
Can I pinch a fag, mate? – may I have a cigarette, please? :-D

According to the information I have found on the internet (specifically on Wikipedia and the sites about kimono), at first, geishas (the meaning of the word is: person of the arts) were all male, and the first female geisha was a courtesan named Kako. Hence Renji’s profession in this fiction – he is a male geisha (taikomochi) and, secretly, a male yûjo. Bloody hell, what a wicked mind I have!

And one more thing: even the colours of Ichihana’s obi and kimono and the pattern are meaningful: they are suitable for April. Ichihana is a geisha who knows how to be iki.


My undying gratitude to Silver Wolf (Thank you for the beautiful pictures, my dear) and all my reviewers!