The Beautiful Way

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A/N: I know I already have two multi-parts to be working on (Sex and Football and A Modern Courtship), but I really wanted to work on this one too. It's only three parts so it shouldn't take long to finish. (For those who follow my other works, A Modern Courtship should be around 8-10 chapters, while Sex and Football looks like it will end at 15).

Extended Summary: It is the early 1600s in Japan, just as the country is about to isolate itself from the outside world. Under this historical backdrop, the tradition of wakashudo is still practiced among the samurai class: an older samurai is expected to take his young apprentice as a lover, until the apprentice comes of age and in turn takes an apprentice-lover of his own. In Part I, Byakuya is a young apprentice who is reluctant to make a lover out of Kenpachi, his boor of a master. But just when they finally come to understand each other, they are separated. In Part II, a priest named Renji comes to Japan, where he is shocked to see love between men practiced so openly. He tries to lecture Byakuya on the sins of sodomy, all the while fighting an intense attraction to the other man. In Part III, Byakuya has come of age and has taken an apprentice-lover of his own. But when a man from his past comes back into the picture, he's forced to make some unexpected decisions.

Rated: NC-17 for explicit sexual activity and graphic violence


Table of Contents


Part I . . . . . . . . . First Love and Last Rites
Part II . . . . . . The Tempting of Abarai Renji
Part III . . . . . . Ode to the Mercurial Kitsune


Glossary


Wakashudo: A pederastic tradition where an older samurai would take his young apprentice as a lover, until the apprentice came of age and henceforth took a lover/apprentice of his own. It was exclusive of heterosexual relationships, so a man could have a wife or see female prostitutes while having a male lover. Also known as bi-do, which translates as "the beautiful way."

Nenja: The master/teacher in a wakashudo relationship.

Wakashu: The apprentice/student in a wakashudo relationship.

Koku: A unit of currency equal to five bushels of rice.

Botchan: A title given to the young son of a lord.

Tekkou: The black fingerless hand coverings that Byakuya wears in the manga.

Kyahan: Fabric calf coverings.

Onna-girai: Woman-hater. Used to refer to men who only enjoy the company of other men.


Part I: First Love and Last Rites


It had been a long while since he had come to his family estate. It was just as pristine, just as opulent as he remembered, a sharp contrast to the humble dojo that he now called his home. He strode with purpose through those familiar corridors, through the lacquered screen doors that automatically opened before him, pulled apart by unseen servants. It didn't take long until he came to the appropriate room, and he walked to the middle of it before bowing low to the floor.

The tips of Byakuya's ponytail touched the polished wood. The royal blue silk of his kimono sleeves pooled in front of his head as the black tekkou on his wrists and forearms touched the floor. His kimono was cut short and tied with a thick black obi, though the sash did nothing to prevent the kimono from riding up a little in the back as Byakuya bent down. The fabric climbed further up his legs, exposing some more of his slim, muscled thighs, though not any amount that would be considered vulgar. At least the bottom half of his legs were covered by black kyahan.

"You called for me," he said, addressing the men sitting at a long, low table in front of him. They were the elders of his family, and for them to have gathered and called him meant that this meeting was of great importance. Byakuya knew exactly what they wanted to talk about; after all, he had yet to lay with the man the elders had selected to be his master.

Byakuya did his best to lift his eyes up while keeping his head bowed. He could barely see his own grandfather, seated in the exact middle of his table. But Ginrei was leaning back a little bit while the other elders sat upright, surely a physical sign that he was content to let the others discuss Byakuya's transgressions for now.

"We have heard from the owner of your dojo," said one, "that you have failed to consummate your relationship with Zaraki."

Zaraki's name brought a small scowl to young Byakuya's lips. "The man is a boor. He neglects the pen to pursue the sword. He fails to practice any of the refined samurai arts, battle the only thing filling his head. I don't see how I can be expected to-"

"Is it not true that you yourself consented to this relationship?"

Byakuya's teeth clenched together at the reminder. When he had chosen the samurai who would become his teacher, Zaraki had been the obvious choice on paper. Who better to learn the martial arts from, than a man whose countless victories were known as far away as Nagasaki? A man whose name evoked fear from not only his enemies but also several of his peers? Byakuya now knew he should have also conducted research into the man's personality as well, but he had assumed that someone so accomplished on the battlefield would be just as exalted off of it. He had been wrong.

"Need I remind you," said some great-uncle, once removed, "how important the tradition of wakashudo is to the samurai way of life? As your nenja, Zaraki is able to teach you of martial arts and the samurai code of honor. As his wakashu, your influence will encourage him to behave more honorably himself."

Byakuya had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from speaking; he hardly believed he could influence Zaraki to behave honorably.

"A physical relationship is necessary for strengthening the lifelong bonds that will develop between the two of you. At the most practical level, you must at least learn how love between men is conducted, if only to take your own wakashu once you have come of age. Do you not agree, Byakuya?"

"I agree," Byakuya replied, knowing that there was no other response open to him.

"Yes. There is no greater joy, while one is still a boy, to come to brightest bloom among heroic lovers.* And I do not think that you can have any complaints as to Zaraki's heroic stature."

"No," Byakuya agreed, when deliberate silence prompted him to. "I do not."

"Then you will begin your courtship of him henceforth, and enter into a physical relationship as soon as he is willing to. You are dismissed, Byakuya."

Byakuya touched his forehead to the floor once before standing and turning. He made his way out without raising his eyes from the floor, as was expected on this occasion. While his every stride and facial expression was calm, collected, even regal, underneath that placid surface he was stewing. The thought of laying with Zaraki left a taste like bile in his mouth. He knew, though, that this day would come eventually. His family would not allow him to bring dishonor on the tradition of wakashudo. He supposed that it was fortunate he had been allowed to prolong this for so long.

Outside the gates of the sprawling Kuchiki estate stood a solitary horse, the color of a moonless night sky. Her reigns were held by a bowing servant, but they were quickly transfered to Byakuya's hands as the boy walked by. The servant remained bowing as Byakuya straddled his horse and pressed his heels together, sending them on a path towards the dojo they both called home.

It didn't take long to get there, or maybe Byakuya was just accustomed to the distance. He had to admit he enjoyed being on a horse, enjoyed the feel of the land as she galloped over it and the cool, harsh wind against his skin. Coupled with the fact that he was dreading what was to come with Zaraki, it was no wonder the trip seemed as short as it did. Once there, Byakuya was slow to walk his horse to her stable, and he was just as slow making his way inside the dojo.

It was dark. The only light inside the main hall came in from narrow windows, but the stars and quarter-full moon did little to illuminate the room on this particular day. Byakuya could barely see the small futons laid out on the floor, the slim bodies nestled in each one. The main hall doubled as a sleeping space for all the students who had yet to come of age. Byakuya had been chagrined to discover the communal sleeping conditions, until his father had gently but firmly reminded him that he was honor-bound to follow the traditions of the dojo.

For now, though, Byakuya ignored the empty futon that had been laid out for him, no doubt by one of his peers. Instead, he made his way deeper into the dojo, towards the room of the man he had chosen to be his teacher. It was easy to find, despite the lack of lights. All Byakuya had to do was follow the noise; out of everyone in the dojo, only Zaraki and his co-horts kept such late hours. The sound of boisterous laughter and half-slurred taunts became louder and louder, until Byakuya was in front of Zaraki's door. Without so much as a knock Byakuya pushed it open.

Silence took over as three sets of eyes looked up at him, all of them bemused, though to varying degrees. And Zaraki was at the center of it, coal black eyes glowing under the lamp light that flooded the room. Thin, wet black hair flowed down on both sides of his face, framing the large smirk that was spreading over his lips.

"Well, well," Zaraki said, "if it isn't the little prince. It's rare for you to visit me. Don't tell me you came to drink with us?"

"Hardly," Byakuya scoffed, his chin lifting up just slightly. "I have decided that it would be appropriate for us to enter into a physical relationship."

Zaraki let out a loud, crisp laugh. "Yeah? That mean I can finally fuck you?"

The question prompted a cold glare from Byakuya. Yumichika and Ikkaku, for their parts, were content to watch the proceedings out of the corners of their eyes. They knew better than to involve themselves in an argument between Zaraki and a Kuchiki, but they were loath to miss this exchange as well. Apparently, though, they had no say in the matter, as Zaraki made a silent gesture for them to get out. They shuffled out past Byakuya, grabbing their lanterns and any still-full sake bottles along the way.

The door shut behind them and Byakuya was left alone with his nenja. There was only one lantern to illuminate the space between them now, and the orange glass cast a strange glow over Zaraki's face.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Zaraki asked. "Come here."

Nose scrunched up in distaste, Byakuya nonetheless obeyed. He wasn't going to give his family cause to call for him again. His bare feet padded across wood, his small footsteps strangely loud in the room. A calloused hand closed around his wrist, and Byakuya felt himself pulled into Zaraki's lap. Zaraki wasted no time in burying his face in the crook of a neck, in pressing his hand against a smooth inner thigh.

"So soft," he murmured, kneading the flesh of Byakuya's thigh. The soft puffs of air the passed his lips sent shivers, quite involuntarily, radiating down Byakuya's spine.

Byakuya shut his eyes and grit his teeth as he forced his body to go relatively limp. It wasn't the sex, of course, that offended him. He had been taught the ways of wakashudo since he had been a mere fledgling, and knew the importance of physical release and pleasure. It was sex with Zaraki that was so distasteful. But, eyes closed, Zaraki could have been any stranger, any man. He even had a surprisingly pleasant smell about him, a soft bouquet of soap and shampoo and cleanliness.

Lips and mouth suckled on his neck in a way Byakuya had to admit was not unpleasant, and a firm hand kneaded its way up his thigh. And all the while he was being lowered, lowered, until his back met the cotton of Zaraki's futon. Zaraki's fingers moved just a little bit higher, just enough to brush, ever so lightly, against the fundoshi that covered Byakuya's groin. A gasp escaped from Byakuya's mouth, and he felt Zaraki's mouth mold itself into a grin against his neck.

"Finally got a response out of you?" Zaraki asked, his voice half smothered in Byakuya's skin.

Byakuya cringed at the question, at Zaraki's reinserted presence in his mind.

"Don't speak," he said, quite surprised when Zaraki actually listened to him.

Instead of an answering response, Zaraki pressed a kiss against Byakuya's neck as he moved his fingers more insistently against Byakuya's crotch. Byakuya gasped in response, his body arching into the touch as though it had a strength of will of its own. Those fingers left him momentarily, moving to pull apart the obi tied around his waist before returning to their previous position.

Fingers kneaded hardening flesh as a wet mouth moved down across a pale chest. It was so easy, Byakuya thought, to let the pleasure consume him To arch his chest towards those kisses, to grow hard under that expert touch. Soon he was completely stiff, straining against the now-tight fabric of his fundoshi. That hot mouth found its way to a nipple, and his fingers couldn't help but tangle themselves in wet hair as gentle suction was applied. He moaned as a tongue moved around the apex of his nipple, as teeth bit against the sensitive flesh ever so lightly.

Too soon the mouth left his nipple, leaving it stiff and cool in the drying air. But more kisses were placed down his abdomen, and then one singular kiss was pressed, with utmost deliberation, against the fabric covering the very tip of his cock. Byakuya moaned as his cock was enveloped by heat and moisture through the fabric of his fundoshi. Lips and tongue mouthed the shape of his erection, sending pleasure flooding through his body. And then it stopped. A cheek nuzzled against Byakuya's groin, pressing against it in a way that sent shivers through Byakuya's body. Then, with one firm pull, his fundoshi was pulled apart like the ribbon on a gift.

He could feel his hard cock bob in the cool air, then cried as it was taken into a hot, wet mouth. The sensation was too different, too much, not at all like anything he had ever felt while playing with himself. His fingers constricted, his legs sprayed outward, and his hips attempted to thrust up into that delicious heat. But when Zaraki started to suck he couldn't contain himself anymore. Utter pleasure flooded his cock and spread out throughout his body. Byakuya cried out as his fingers pulled at Zaraki's hair, as his balls tightened. Every nerve in his body lit up as he came, semen spilling deep into Zaraki's throat.

It took several deep breaths, post-orgasm, for Byakuya to come back to reality. His every muscle was limp, including the one still enjoying the attention of Zaraki's mouth. But then Zaraki let him go and moved up his body, pushing him softly to lay on his side. His kimono, already in a precarious state as it dangled off his arms, was completely pulled away. He grit his teeth as his back made contact with Zaraki's hard, scarred chest, as an arm came to wrap around him. He could feel Zaraki's length, hard as steel, rub against the curves of his backside. Zaraki started to thrust against him, rubbing his large cock against Byakuya's skin, loud grunts sounding from directly behind Byakuya's ear.

A few moments later, understanding dawned on Byakuya. His eyes snapped open as his hands clenched in anger, realizing that Zaraki had no intention of consummating their union. What insult was this. . . Zaraki seemed content to rut against him like an animal. Like a dog humping a pillow. Byakuya shook, wondering why he had expected more than this bit of vulgarity from Zaraki. He attempted to move away, but Zaraki's arm held him back, his thrusts increasing in speed. In a moment he gave a louder grunt than usual, and Byakuya was horrified to feel hot cum splatter onto his back.

Byakuya shoved back against Zaraki as he shot up to his feet.

"Vulgar beast," he spit out, as he wrapped his kimono loosely around himself. "I am your wakashu, not some inanimate object to hump against."

Zaraki was laughing, something that angered Byakuya to no end.

"Yeah? Coulda fooled me, given how much you were participating. Look, kid, you want me to fuck you? Do a better job with your seduction next time around."

"An animal like you doesn't deserve the effort," Byakuya bit out. He turned and headed for the door.

"Hey! Where are you off to?"

"To wash your dirt and stink off me!" Byakuya called back, fuming as he made his way towards the well.

Byakuya held his kimono together with his hands as he made his way through the corridors of the dojo and out the back. As he stepped out of folding screen doors cool air surrounded him, calmed him. Loath as he was to admit it, he realized that he had been too hotheaded. This would no doubt warrant another scolding by his elders, if the news of it ever reached then.

But it was past, and there was nothing he could do about it. Byakuya stepped towards the well, discarding his robe as he did so. His small hands grabbed the harsh rope that hung there and started to pull. The night was relatively silent, and the sound of water sloshing back and forth as it was lifted relatively loud. It wasn't long before he had pulled up the pail, and Byakuya wasted no time in pouring its contents over his body. Cold water washed over his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. As his body was washed clean of Zaraki's wretched seed, Byakuya started to feel better about things. This would never reach his elders, as long as he consummated their relationship soon.

Zaraki's ingratitude, however, continued to perplex Byakuya. If Zaraki had any sense at all he would take his time worshipping every inch of Byakuya's body, instead of treating him as just a common object of lust. It was, Byakuya considered, only proper considering his pedigree.

"Byakuya? That you?"

Byakuya frowned at the use of his given name. He looked over his bare shoulder, at the drowsy man who stood there, one hand running through shaggy hair.

"Shiba," he said, "even though you are my elder, it is still inappropriate for you to address me by my given name."

"Oh, yeah." Kaien yawned as he stepped closer, not even bothering to cover his mouth as he did so. "Sorry, I forgot. So what are you doing out here, Byakuya?"

Byakuya bristled, but only bit his tongue as he lowered the pail into the well once again. "I could ask the same of you. Should you not be at the house you share with your wife?"

As he pulled up some more water Byakuya could hear the rustle of cloth indicating that Kaien had taken a seat on the wooden steps. Just his luck the man was in the mood for conversation.

"Old Man Yama wanted to talk about something with a bunch of us, and then we ended up drinking, and I ended up crashing here."

Of course. Byakuya's hands grabbed the metal rim on the bucket, and once again poured the cold water over his skin. He felt, for the moment, clean enough, and let the pail drop back into the well for the last time.

"What about you?" Kaien asked. "Having problems with Zaraki? Again?"

"I made a mistake in choosing that man as my nenja." Byakuya turned around to pick up his kimono, only to realize it had been laid out on the wooden floor next to Kaien. Kaien smiled and patted the space beside him, clearly indicating that he wanted Byakuya to join him.

"It's a nice night," Kaien said, "and you don't look sleepy."

Byakuya had to admit that Kaien had a point. He wasn't going to be able to fall asleep, at least not for a little bit. Besides, there was something about being nude out of doors that Byakuya had always enjoyed. Some combination of the fresh air on his skin and the sensation of being completely unencumbered. He took a seat next to Kaien, even allowing himself to lean back a little bit, though his posture remained nowhere near as relaxed as Kaien's was.

"Zaraki's a good warrior," Kaien said, always one to note the silver lining in a situation.

"A good warrior and a boorish man," Byakuya countered, nose scrunching just slightly in distaste.

Kaien laughed a little at the statement. "Man, you're a lot more difficult than I was at your age."

"At least your nenja was civilized," Byakuya said, protesting Kaien's implication that it was actually Byakuya who was at fault here.

"Yeah, well, now you're making me all nostalgic. Although I guess I should be taking a wakashu of my own pretty soon. What did Zaraki do this time, at any rate?"

"He failed to consummate our relationship," Byakuya said, face wrinkled in disgust, "and spilled himself against my skin."

Kaien cracked up laughing. "Oh, no! Your clean, silky soft skin. What an offense."

Byakuya frowned and hardened his eyes towards Kaien. Now he remembered why he disliked speaking with the blunt, overly-familiar man. "It is, actually, very offensive."

"What, a teaspoon of semen? You couldn't just wipe it off with a cloth?"

"Must you be so vulgar? And to think you actually come from a dignified line of samurai."

"Hey, what's that got to do with this?" Kaien asked. "Besides, you just started to make overtures at him, right? It's not like he's going to go straight to sodomy, he has to get you ready first."

"Ready?" Byakuya asked. He blinked up at Kaien, looking more innocent than he had any right to.

Kaien gulped as Byakuya looked at him. The air between them suddenly felt so heavy, and he was realizing just how pale and smooth Byakuya's flesh seemed. His throat felt all of a sudden dry. "Umm. . . yeah. . . it can hurt, you know. You have to stretch it out."

Byakuya raised an eyebrow. He had never before heard Kaien's voice sound so. . . small. "And how, exactly, did Ukitake-san get you ready for love between men?"

Kaien could feel his skin heat up, could feel his lower body respond to the question. ". . . With. . . fingers. . . usually."

"Hmm." Byakuya looked up into the sky, gray eyes taking on a soft and contemplative hue.

Kaien's eyes, however, remained fixated on Byakuya. Brat though he was, Byakuya was at the age when he would be the most beautiful, with his large eyes and rounded cheeks. It made Kaien wish that he had been eligible to take a wakashu when Byakuya had come onto the market. He watched, riveted, as Byakuya laid his upper body completely down on the kimono-covered floor beneath him. As a smooth leg bent upwards and spread out just a little bit. He watched as Byakuya's hand traced down the contours of his abdomen, past a sparse dusting of pubic hair, past the slim cock that lay limp above two round balls.

Kaien gulped. Byakuya wasn't actually going to. . . oh. So he was. Kaien watched as Byakuya's eyes fluttered half-shut, as the most delicious-sounding sigh spilled from his lips. And his hand reached back, disappearing between two creamy thighs. While Kaien couldn't see what was happening, he could certainly imagine it. He could imagine, in his mind, the sight of a small, pink hole, a long, thin finger pressing against it. His heart raced as he imagined it opening up, imagined that finger sliding deep inside of it.

"How. . . " Kaien had to clear his throat, his voice came out so saturated with lust. "How does it feel?"

Byakuya's features were disappointingly neutral. "It feels. . . strange. It doesn't feel like much of anything. Perhaps I'm not doing it correctly."

"Do you. . . need help?" Kaien was pushing it, he knew. If Byakuya had consummated his relationship with Zaraki, Kaien would never ask such a thing, but. . . Byakuya hadn't, had he? So what was the harm?

"Mmm. . . fine."

Kaien pushed himself off the steps, knees touching down on the grass between Byakuya's spread legs. He was just in time to watch Byakuya pull the top of his finger out, to watch that tiny hole close up round it. His cock ached at the sight, and he rubbed at it through the soft fabric of his yukata as he stuck the middle finger of his other hand into his mouth.

"Okay," he said, taking his finger out of his mouth, "I'm going in."

Kaien gulped, once again, as he looked at that little pink hole. It twitched, slightly, as it waited for him, and the sight sent a jolt straight to his groin. He pulled his yukata apart and pulled his hard cock out of the side of his fundoshi, even as he reached forward with his finger.

As Kaien stroked himself he traced a circle around Byakuya's puckered entrance. He could feel it shiver underneath his fingertip, could see it undulate in front of him. He pressed against the very center of it, ever so slightly, watching as just the pad of his fingertip slid in. He pulled away, just a little bit, before pushing his finger in again. It slid in slowly, unbearably so.

Kaien's heart seemed stopped in his chest. Byakuya was hot and velvet soft, tighter than Miyaki but, unfortunately, not as wet. Still, it was an indescribable feeling to have his finger enveloped in this particular kind of heat. It was, for lack of better words, amazing. He wondered if this is what it felt like the first time Ukitake had fingered him, if this was the pleasure that his former master had felt. Part of him wanted to know what his cock would feel like enveloped in that tight heat, but he knew that doing that would be going too far. Besides, Byakuya was too tight, and while saliva would do for one finger it would certainly not be enough for anything larger.

Soon his finger was buried to the hilt, and though he enjoyed the sight of it he couldn't help but look up into Byakuya's face. The boy's eyelids were half-closed, his lips moist and half-parted. Though he didn't look as though he was in any strong kind of pleasure, it certainly wasn't his usual expression of disdain. Kaien looked back down. He didn't think there was enough lubricant for him to properly finger the boy; saliva, unfortunately, tended to dry out soon enough.

Instead, Kaien slowly, slowly, pulled his finger out, careful to feel along the front of Byakuya's rectum along the way. When he had pulled out the base segment of his finger he felt it, a slight protrusion on Byakuya's rectal wall that felt like wrinkled skin. Apparently Byakuya felt it as well, as he gasped and scrunched his face up in displeasure.

"Sorry," Kaien said, moving his finger slightly to the side, so that it was on the edge of the protrusion. "Too much pressure?"

Byakuya nodded in response, even as his face relaxed.

The boy was, Kaien thought, certainly more sensitive than Kaien himself was at that age. He remembered that he had loved nothing more than for Ukitake to make firm come hither motions against his prostate, but apparently that would be too much for Byakuya, unless he managed to do it as gently as possible. No matter; direct stimulation wasn't the only option.

Kaien started to rub along the edge of Byakuya's prostate in circular motions. From the barely audible sigh that escaped from Byakuya's lips, the boy seemed to like it. Kaien started slow at first, but built up a steady pace, careful never to exert too much pressure. Soon enough Byakuya's eyelids shuttered almost entirely closed, while his cock rose from its previous repose. It was half-hard and curved toward his right hip when it started to leak seminal fluid. The consistency of pre-cum, it dripped from the slit of his cock onto the soft skin of his thigh.

Kaien licked his lips at the sight. He tugged more harshly on his own cock as he watched Byakuya's leaking penis. Every several moments a new drop would appear, the thin consistency causing it to drip down right away. The liquid dripped down Byakuya's thigh, pooling in the crevice where thigh met pelvis. Soon Kaien sped up his motions even more, pressed just a little bit more insistently. A period of draught occurred, followed, out of nowhere, by a flood of fluid. Byakuya's cock leaked like a faucet slightly turned on, thin white liquid dripping out in a steady stream, until there was a good few ounces of it on his thigh. It was a delicious sight, all that cream on Byakuya's silky skin, and all Kaien had to do was look at it and tug, one last time, before he sucked in a breath and spilled himself onto the grass beneath him.

Even as he spent himself, Kaien didn't forgot to take care of Byakuya. Though his orgasm left him momentarily fuzzy, he still continued to rub circles around Byakuya's prostate, until the boy's cock started to go limp again. He slowly pulled his finger out, then looked up to see Byakuya's contented expression. Though someone else's semen touching his skin was a vulgar and offensive thought, Byakuya seemed fine when the mess was his own.

"How was that?" Kaien asked.

"Pleasant enough." Byakuya stretched before lifting himself up. He would have to wash again, but that wasn't such a difficult task. Kaien's attentions had certainly felt. . . different. Not quite an orgasm, but pleasurable in its own right. At any rate he was tired now, and had no doubt that he would easily fall asleep. Tomorrow he would deal with Zaraki, but for now he could content himself to dream.

Dawn came in just a few hours. Byakuya blinked open eyes to see some of his peers had already awaken and were rolling up their futons for storage. He quickly got up himself, not the type to dally. Morning at the dojo brought with it the usual routine for the young samurai. Cleaning the main hall, eating a simple breakfast, and then practicing katas, after which there were more individualized, freeform schedules.

Byakuya was in the middle of practicing katas when he spied Yumichika in the doorway, trying to get his attention. He stopped and made his way over, frowning at the rather effeminate man. Yumichika was obviously trying to live out his glory days as a sought after wakashu, a role Byakuya felt he was too old to be playing.

"What is it?" Byakuya asked.

Yumichika, used to the way Byakuya treated those he felt were lesser beings, ignored the boy's curt tone of voice.

"Ken-chan says to be ready in an hour. The two of you are leaving on a mission." Yumichika fluttered too long eyelashes, no doubt amplified using make-up he had bought from the last traveling acting troupe. "A little honeymoon, perhaps?"

Byakuya walked off without bothering to respond to Yumichika's inane chatter. At any rate, he didn't need an hour to pack. All he needed were his katana and wakizashi, and he gathered them from the same closet his futon was stored in. He tucked them into his waist, along with a pouch of money, and made his way towards the front of the dojo. Along the way he passed by Kaien, who gave him a wink and sheepish grin. Byakuya ignored him, of course. He was in no mood for Kaien's antics. A disheartened murmur of "so cold" was heard from the hallway as he left, though Byakuya hardly cared.

Soon enough Byakuya found himself in front of the dojo, where Zaraki was waiting with their horses. He cocked a grin as he watched Byakuya make his way towards him.

"Figured you wouldn't need an hour," Zaraki said.

"What is our task?" Byakuya asked, wasting no time in jumping onto his horse.

"There's been reports of vandals in the Eastern Forest, near the borders of this land. The daimyo asked us to take care of it."

Byakuya nodded. It was a simple enough assignment. He was excited to be able to put his skills to use, even if it did mean he would have to travel with Zaraki. Byakuya spurred his horse and set off, not surprised when Zaraki caught up a few moments later and took the lead. They rode without stopping for hours, over hilled terrains and through thin forest groves. They didn't stop until sundown. The village by the eastern forest appeared on the horizon just as the sky turned purple with the setting sun. Byakuya and Zaraki slowed down as they approached, riding their horses into dusty, quiet streets, watching as the villagers made their way through their daily lives.

Byakuya had never been to this town, but it was not much different from the town he had grown up in. They came to a small, simple building on the outskirts of the town and tied their horses to a fence on the side.

"Is this the local dojo?" Byakuya asked.

"Close. It's the brothel."

Zaraki laughed at the scowl that appeared on Byakuya's face.

"Don't worry, Kid, this is where the samurai we're meeting hangs out. It's always business before pleasure with you, huh?"

"It is our duty," Byakuya replied, though he scarcely knew why he should have to remind Zaraki that.

"Yeah. Sure."

The two made their way inside the nondescript building, which was more of an inn than a den of ill-repute. Byakuya supposed that in small towns like these, the consolidation of multiple functions was necessary. Zaraki had a quick conversation with the man at the front desk, and then they were led upstairs and down a narrow hallway. A door was opened, and Byakuya found himself staring into a quant yet small room. There was a man laying on the tatami mets, clothes in a loose floral kimono and peach haori, wavy hair swept up into an all-too-messy topknot. Two women in sheer yukata served him sake, and Zaraki and Byakuya came to join him on the floor.

"Kenpachi," he said, "it's been a long time."

"Shunsui. Looking at your face brings back memories. Bad ones."

The two men laughed at Zaraki's words, and the women poured fresh cups of sake for Zaraki and Byakuya. The women left, presumably to bring back food, and Byakuya sipped his cup of sake as the other two started to reminisce about earlier times. A waste of time, Byakuya thought, but he knew that it wasn't his place to say anything. It wasn't until they were all half-full, engorged on the small feast that had been laid out before them, that the two men saw fit to get down to business.

Byakuya couldn't help but drift away as their conversation turned to more serious matters. His lack of sleep from the night before, coupled with the long journey of today, contrived to make his eyelids heavy and thoughts unfocused. Still, even as his head would tilt to one side, Byakuya fought to pay attention to the situation at hand. This is what he had come here for, after all. But Shinsui's voice was like a lullaby, lulling him to sleep.

". . . thieves and vagrants have been attacking travelers taking the route through the Eastern forest. Up until now it's always been the safest way to cross to the next territory, and actually still is. . . all the other alternatives are much too perilous, you know that as well as I. Which is why safeguarding this route is so important. Most of the travelers are allowed to leave; after all, it's valuables the group is looking for. It's only the travelers who resist that are killed, those and. . . well. . ."

"Spit it out, Shunsui, you know you won't scare me away."

"Well, every so often they take a captive. Suffice it to say, that captive is never seen again. One of the samurai were able to follow some of them one day, and he followed them to the rock caves in the forest valley."

"Huh. Those despicable oni still make a nest there?"

"Yes. So what other conclusion could there be? In return for providing an oni with food, they receive a safe place to hide. Lord knows none of our samurai are willing to venture inside of an oni's den, but then again, they're all pretty young."

"Don't tell me you're too soft to do it."

A soft chuckle. "You know me, if there's a fight, I'll try my best to avoid it."

Byakuya scarcely noticed when his eyelids grew to heavy and finally closed. When he woke up it was dawn again, and he was laying on a soft futon that had been laid out in the room. There was an empty futon placed close to his. . . but Zaraki wasn't in it. How rare for the man to wake early. Byakuya stood up and ventured out of the room, not forgetting to take his swords with him. A round, elderly woman in the hallway, no doubt an employ of the inn, smiled and bowed as he passed her, but Byakuya ignored her. He made his way downstairs, also ignoring, at least for now, the smell of miso soup wafting from the kitchen.

Byakuya didn't have to go far to find his master. The was a small dirt lot near the inn, and that's where he found Zaraki, sparring with several local children. They ran at him with their wooden swords, only to laugh and run away when he roared at them. Byakuya, needless to say, was perplexed.

"Didn't know he had a soft spot for children, did you?"

Byakuya looked back and up at the voice, only to see Shunsui, dressed in more appropriate kimono and hakama of solid, non-floral hues. He had his katana at his side and had tekkou on his forearms.

"He no doubt just enjoys terrifying them," Byakuya replied, turning back to watch Zaraki.

Shunsui chuckled at the statement. "Maybe. Maybe not. You should get a good breakfast in, we'll be leaving soon. Word is a large group of thieves are laying in wait on the path today; good opportunity to see how they fare against the three of us."

Byakuya nodded as Shunsui walked away. Zaraki turned to look up at him, grinning as he made his way over, one small child attached to either leg.

"The little prince come out to play?"

Byakuya scrunched his nose up at the question. "Hardly. Although I'm not surprised that you're out here playing instead of doing something worthwhile."

"Yeah? Spending time with the people we're supposed to be protecting isn't worthwhile? I guess they're too beneath you to be worth your time, huh?"

Byakuya crossed his arms in front of his chest as he stepped forward a little bit. "I will have you know that the Kuchiki family donates at least twenty koku to the local village every year. Philanthropy is-"

"Yeah, yeah," Zaraki said, lopsided grin still plastered on his face, "you rich types give out rice and coins like it's nothing and congratulate yourselves for it, but you're only doing it to make yourselves feel good. When was the last time you went into your local village, huh? When was the last time you helped one of those villagers build a house, or teach a kid some swordplay skills? I'm willing to bet you never have, cause your kind would rather write poems or draw the same characters over and over again instead of actually giving a shit about the world around you."

Byayuka flushed as Zaraki insulted the noble arts of haiku and calligraphy. He turned on his heel and stomped off. "You are the most infuriating man I have ever met!"

"Yeah, well, you're still a spoiled brat!"

Byakuya stomped his way back into the inn, then into the dining area, where he sat down across a table from Shunsui. Before Shunsui could even say anything Byauya grabbed a bowl of rice porridge and started shoveling it into his mouth, not exactly caring if he was being rude for once.

Shunsui blinked at him. "Argument with Kenpachi? He told me that happened a lot."

Byakuya only shoveled the food in faster as a response. It wasn't long, however, before all three of them were gathered at the front of the town, about to make their way into the forest on foot. Byakuya had been intent on ignoring Zaraki as much as he could, but he couldn't help but stare at the larger man's back as they walked along the dirt road. Byakuya was loath to admit it, but now that he had calmed down he had to admit that Zaraki had made a point, albeit a tiny one. While Zaraki was wrong about haiku and calligraphy not being valid pursuits, maybe he was right about samurai spending more time with the people they were supposed to protect. Maybe Byakuya had been too harsh on him. . . just a little bit.

Still, Byakuya kept silent as they made their way into the forest. The two men were relatively quiet as well, keeping their conversation light-hearted compared to the night before. As they walked deeper into the forest the vegetation overhead grew thicker, but never enough to completely block out the sunlight that would scatter through the leaves and onto the road. The forest hummed with life, noises giving clues as to the action going on past the trees and undergrowth that blocked their vision. It was, Byakuya was pleased to admit, pleasant.

At one point, Byakuya saw a glimpse of silver fur through the trees, and thought he heard the cry of a small animal. He looked ahead. Zaraki and Shunsui were walking forward, but at a slow pace, and he could catch up. He stepped off the path and walked towards the pitiful mewling. He had gone just a few meters when he realized he was directly overhead the noise. He parted the leaves underneath him, and his breath caught at what he saw.

A fox lay there, his left paw caught in a common trap. The animal himself, however, was not just a common fox. His fur was silver, and seemed to glow with an ethereal light all its own. A kitsune. One of the fox spirits that lived on the daimyo's lands. With careful hands, Byakuya pried the trap apart, and watched as the young fox bounded away, casting him just one look backwards as he did so. Byakuya watched him leave, then returned to follow his master.

Fifteen minutes after they had started walking Zaraki stopped and walked off the road, gesturing for the other two to follow. He gestured Byajuya closer towards him.

"Do you see these indentations?" he asked, pointing at a dip in the vegetation.

Byakuya nodded.

"Footprints. Because of the consistency of the undergrowth they end up looking like big dips like these, but no one can make these but humans. They spring back up after a few hours, so these look like they're pretty fresh."

Byakuya nodded again, taking in Zaraki's little lesson.

"They're probably laying in wait not very far away," Shunsui said. "And they're probably watching the road. I doubt that we can get away with a sneak attack, considering how noisy the vegetation is."

Zaraki grinned. "Then we walk down the road, and hope to hell that they attack us."

Shunsui sighed, but seemed ready enough to capitulate. "Nothing for it, then."

The trio returned to the road and resumed their walk. Though they hadn't necessarily discussed it in detail, the plan was clear: lure out as many of the thieves as they could, kill as many of the thieves as they could. Even if there were vandals that didn't participate in the attack, as they suspected there would be, it would send a message. It took about an hour of walking, but then it happened. A noise in the bush that was too loud, too clumsy, to belong to an animal, and Byakuya's hand went to rest on the hilt of his katana. All three men slowed, but didn't stop, not wanting to raise suspicion.

They came around a bend in the road, and Byakuya almost ran into Zaraki as the older man stopped abruptly. There were two men in front of them, armed with spears. They were wearing the nondescript clothes of peasants, conical hats hiding their faces in shadow. One aimed the tip of his spear right at the soft flesh of Zaraki's neck.

"Your swords and your valuables," said one.

Zaraki only grinned. "Yeah? And who's going to make me? As far as I can see it, it's three against two here."

Just like clockwork, a circle of men surrounded them. Zaraki's grin grew larger as he glanced back at the other two. Silent agreement passed through them, and all at once they flew into action.

Byakuya spun behind him, going down on one knee as he plunged his katana into a waiting stomach. Fast as lightning he stood up and pulled it out in an upward slash, sending blood and guts out to spray all over the front of his chest ad his face. In the corner of his eyes he could see Shunsui faring no worse; for someone who avoided fights, he was certainly adept at swordplay. The vandals were running away, but the trio were quick to take after them, Zaraki leading the way.

They were quick, quicker than the thieves were, and the noise of the vegetation made them easy to follow. As Byakuya ran behind Zaraki he had the opportunity to see his master in action. Zaraki barely stopped each time he caught up with a vandal. As his feet hesitated for just a fraction of a second in their run, Zaraki would slash out with his katana, the elegant blade cutting clean, deep lines through their marks. A splatter of blood would arch through the air and onto the leaves, and the victim would fall mid-step, crumpled to the ground. This was the Zaraki that Byakuya had respected, that Byakuya had chosen: the Zaraki of the battlefield.

Eventually the forest changed. Byakuya noticed a declination in the ground, and deduced that they were entering the forest valley. It was an abrupt change; one second they were in inviting forest, the next in dark green near-darkness. The growth overhead here was ridiculously dens, and cut all but a few scattered rays of sun from falling to the ground. The trees were thick, the undergrowth covering rock and vine when once there was soil. And even more eerie was the silence. There was little life here, that much was clear.

Eventually they came to a cave, the opening of it gaping open like a monster's mouth. They could see but a few feet in; the rest was consumed by blackness.

"I guess this is where we stop," Shunsui said, his voice echoing strangely off the cave walls.

Zaraki snorted. "How many of them do you think we killed?"

"Enough that they'll think twice before attacking that route again." Shunsui turned towards Byakuya and smiled. "You're drenched in red. Happy that you got some action today?"

Byakuya nodded. "It's a much better experience than practicing swordplay in the dojo."

Shunsui chuckled. "Yeah. Bet it is. Well, I guess there's nothing more to do here. We should go clean up any bodies on the road. Wouldn't want to scare the travelers."

"You sure you don't want to head inside?" Zaraki asked, swinging his katana. "Could be a lot of fun."

"Yeah. Not interested."

Byakuya watched as Shunsui and Zaraki turned to leave, but couldn't help but look back one last time. He stepped just one foot farther into the cave, expecting to be able to see in just a little bit more. Nothing. He turned around, about to follow the two older samurai, when something wrapped around his waist.

Byakuya's eyes widened as he cried out. "Zara-"

Something closed over his mouth, but Zaraki had heard him. The man turned around, eyes widening in abject terror as he did so. He ran as fast as he could towards Byakuya, faster than Byakuya had ever seen him run. Byakuya reached forward even as he was pulled away. Zaraki's fingers just brushed his before he was wrenched away, and the Earth itself seemed to close up around him. The next thing he knew was blackness.

When Byakuya came conscious again, he still couldn't see anything. It was complete blackness. He could hear, every now and then, the dripping of water through hollow space. . . most likely, he was in an underground cavern. He shifted, then stopped. There was something coming towards him, through the large space. He tried not to move, but yelped when he was easily lifted off the floor by a large hand. His heart raced. . . it couldn't have been anything other than an oni.

Byakuya struggled, but to little effect. Something grabbed the bottom of his kimono, and then it was ripped off like a sheet of paper. Those large fingers tightened on him as Byakuya struggled more, frantic and unsure. Inexperience had his nerves on edge, and he could not grasp for a way to escape this predicament. His breath caught as something large and wet swept up his body. A tongue, licking the blood off of him. It swept up and down his body as he lay frozen, too shocked and overpowered to do more. The saliva it left in its wake was a disgusting, sticky feeling.

Byakuya cringed as the hand moved him forward. Large lips pressed against his limp cock before drawing it into a cavernous mouth, that tongue coming to swirl around it. His arms reached out to touch the top of the thing's head. . . if he could find an eye, he could blind him. He felt along the bald head, finding only four strange, ridge-like protrusions, two of them curved down into what he could only assume were horns.

Before he could shift and explore lower, the wind was knocked out of him as Byakuya was turned upside down. Each of his legs was being held in a different hand, and he was facing away from the oni. That tongue came out to meet his skin this time, but this time it came to lick between the cleft of his ass. Byakuya sucked in a breath as it came to the hole between his thighs, then cried out as it pushed in.

The tip of the oni's tongue was as large as a man's cock, if not more so. Byakuya gasped and cried out as it was forced inside of him, as the slippery organ squirmed against his inner walls. It hurt, the discomfort overshadowing any small undercurrent of pleasure that might have been present. Byakuya moaned as it forced its way even deeper inside of him, deeper than he thought possible. If the oni kept going, he'd be ripped apart. Byakuya started to struggle again, but it was even harder now that he was speared on the demon's tongue.

Light and heat filled the room. The oni's tongue was removed from Byakuya's body as the thing cried out in pain, and Byakuya could see the flames that were consuming his back. His body jerked as the oni let go with one arm, leaving Byakuya to dangle in the air by one leg. But then the oni gave out an even louder cry, and in a rainfall of blood the arm that was holding onto Byakuya fell onto the floor of the cavern. Byakuya hit the ground with a thud, but was quick to jump up and try to run past the screaming oni. He was halfway past him when the oni turned, reaching a hand into the air, the tips of its fingers twisted and sharp like claws. Byakuya's eyes widened as the hand flew down towards him, but then he was being shoved out of the way. His head hit the floor with a hard bang, and he looked up to see Zaraki sheltering him, a pained grimace on his face.

"Come on, Kid," Zaraki said, "be a little quicker on your feet."

Byakuya didn't need to be told twice. He stood up and tried to run away, but his legs stumbled beneath him. As he almost fell on the floor Zaraki scooped him up, and carried him out as he ran out of the cavern. The oni was too distracted to follow, and soon enough they were out of that infinite darkness and back inside the forest. About half a kilometer from the cave entrance Zaraki set Byakuya down, hands grabbing onto Byakuya's shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still breathing heavy.

"I'm fine," Byakuya said, but as soon as he did so he was falling to the floor, his legs unable to support him. His ass still ached from the deep penetration, but he struggled to get up.

"Crap, kid." Zaraki took off his blood-soaked haori and draped it around Byakuya's shoulders, then leaned down in front of him. "Come on, grab on. I'll have to carry you."

Byakuya frowned to see four slashes swiping across the back of Zaraki's kimono, revealing long cuts still bubbling with dark red blood. Zaraki was in no position to carry him.

"Just do it," Zaraki said, "the sooner we get back, the sooner the both of us can be treated."

Byakuya couldn't argue with that. He scooted forward, then wrapped his arms and legs around Zaraki's torso. The man stood up, and they began the long walk back to town. Byakuya nestled his face into Zaraki's hair, feeling a little bit ashamed of the fact that he had gotten himself into that situation, hadn't been able to get out of it, and couldn't even walk himself back. But at the same time. . .

"Thank you," he said, hoping that he didn't sound too grateful. "For coming back for me."

"Of course I'd come back for you," Zaraki said. "You're my wakashu."

Byakuya's arms tightened around Zaraki's shoulders. Zaraki may not have been proficient with haiku or calligraphy, but. . . he was a good samurai. Byakuya realized how lucky he was to have him as his nenja.

They made there way back to the village in silence, and Zaraki all but collapsed as soon as they were inside the town, his adrenaline leaving him and his injuries taking over. They were both brought back to the inn, where the local healers separated them into different rooms. Byakuya let himself be washed, treated with ointment, and dressed, and by then he was too tired to go search out Zaraki. As soon as his head hit the futon he was out, fast asleep.

The next morning, as soon as Byakuya awoke he went to see Zaraki. The man was in the room next door, and Byakuya slid open the door and walked in on the tips of his toes. Zaraki was still asleep on his back in the futon, blanket tucked around his waist to reveal bandages wrapped all around his chest.

Byakuya sunk to the floor next to Zaraki, lifted up the blanket, and crawled in next to him. As he laid his head on Zaraki's shoulder he heard the man give a grunt, and then an arm came to wrap around his back.

"What's this?" Zaraki asked, voice half-muffled with sleep. "Are you seducing me properly now?"

Byakuya frowned at the question, but he didn't move away. "If I am, will you consummate our relationship?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you, kid? That has to be done formally anyway, so we can't do it without the help of the local dojo."

Byakuya lifted his head up so that he could glare at Zaraki. "And I assume there is a good explanation for why you withheld this piece of information from me?"

He pressed down on Zaraki's bandages, enough to elicit a grunt of pain from the other man. Before Zaraki could reply, though, the door opened, and both of them watched as Shunsui entered the room, dressed again in his more casual attire.

"Good to see you two so energetic in the morning," Shunsui said with a wink.

"If only," Zaraki muttered, as Byakuya sat up in their futon.

"At any rate," Shunsui said, "I'm glad to see you're both okay after what happened. Apparently we were able to kill seven of their men, so I don't think they'll be attacking that route anymore. Just in case, though, I'd like to ask you to stay for a few more days. Maybe once you're feeling up to it, you can help us with the daily patrols."

"What makes you think I'm not up to it now?" Zaraki asked, grinning as he sat up. "These little paper cuts aren't enough to keep me down."

But as soon as he said it he was falling over again.

"Or not."

"You did have quite a bit of blood loss," Shunsui noted. He turned his attention towards Byakuya. "You wouldn't want to go out on patrol with us, would you?"

Byakuya's eyes lit up as he shot out of the futon. "Of course I'll go."

"That settles it then." Shunsui chuckled as Byakuya strode out of the room without even giving Zaraki a second glance. "Have fun recuperating, Kenpachi."

"Yeah," Zaraki grumbled, "I'm sure it'll be tons of fun."

The next few days passed peacefully enough, and soon Byakuya found himself on the night that was to be the consummation of their union.

The evening started innocently enough, with a walk to the local dojo. It was smaller than the one Byakuya was used to, but familiar enough that it calmed his nerves just a little bit. He had been given an overview of the ceremony, but was not privy to the details. An attendant met him and led him to a heated bath, where he was careful to clean himself sufficiently. Thereafter his hair was brushed to a smooth sheen, and he was led to a room where he was instructed to lay, nude, on the cushioned floor.

As he lay there, Byakuya had the chance to think over what was to happen that night. The formality of the affair set small butterflies aflight in his stomach; if this had been a private affair, he would no doubt be less unsure of himself. The opening of a door startled Byakuya from his reverie, as did the rich smell of vanilla that filled the room. A young boy, one of the dojo's wakashu, if his style of dress was to be considered, entered the room. He held a small wooden bowl in his hands, no doubt the source of that fragrant scent.

Byakuya swallowed and looked up at the ceiling as he bent and spread his legs. Someone will come to prepare you, he had been told, a rather clinical way to describe the intimate procedure. Byakuya closed his eyes as an oiled finger pressed against the hole between his thighs. It lingered, there, for one long moment, pressing hard enough to titillate but not enough to penetrate. It rubbed circles there, applying only gentle pressure until Byakuya grew more and more relaxed. Until all the tension drained out of his muscles. Then, with one small push, the finger moved inward.

Byakuya sucked in a breath as the finger slid easily inside of him. It moved and turned, drawing out and pushing in, and was eventually joined by another. Byakuya heard his breath grow ragged as the two fingers moved inside of him, scissoring and twisting, stretching him in a way that he never knew would feel so pleasurable. It was so easy to relax into that touch, to feel his body mold to accommodate it. When the finger left him, Byakuya couldn't help but feel a bit needy and wanton, and more than a little bit in anticipation of what was to come.

The boy was moving, his hands moving to Byakuya's shoulders as he helped the other boy into a seated position. Emerald green silk robes were drawn from some hiding place and wrapped around Byakuya's naked body. Byakuya rose his arms, swathed in voluminous sleeves, so that the boy could wrap a thin strand of gray fabric around his waist. The strand was tied in a way that would, later, be easily pulled apart.

The boy stood, and gestured for Byakuya to follow. He was led through the corridor, through a courtyard, and finally into a small, dimly lit room that was divided in half by a screen. He couldn't see the other half of the room, only the silhouettes of the three men seated there, only their hands and the knees of their kimonos visible through the bottom of the screen. Byakuya kneeled down on the soft futon that had been laid on the floor, calves tucked neatly underneath his thighs, and the boy left.

Zaraki entered a few moments later. Byakuya looked at him through the corner of his eye, not sure if he was allowed to look directly at Zaraki. And forgot to breath for a second, such was his shock. In contrast to the loosely tied cotton kimonos Zaraki usually favored, he was dressed in neatly tied formal silk, complete with haori and hakama. With those clothes, and with his hair tied into a topknot, Zaraki actually looked. . . like a respectable man.

A cough from the other side of the screen brought Byakuya's attention back to the ceremony. Zaraki sat down next to him, and a small sake cup on a square platter was pushed through the bottom of the screen to sit between them.

"You are both here today to enter the sacred contract of wakashudo," said a voice, probably from the figure in the middle of the trio, "and we are here to bear witness to the event. There is no loftier love than that between an older warrior and a young apprentice, no greater love to which a samurai can aspire. It is important for us to never forget, even to our last moment, the spirit of shudo. If we should forget it, it will not be possible for us to maintain the decencies, gentleness of speech, or refinements of polite behavior.**

"Now, vow your intentions, and drink from your shared cup. Zaraki Kenpachi, until the day your wakashu comes of age, you will not gift your seed to any other man, nor take any other male as a lover."

"I will not," Zaraki replied, a serious tone to his voice that Byakuya had never heard before. Zaraki leaned forward with both hands to hold the cup, and took a long drink from its rim.

"Kuchiki Byakuya, until the day you come of age, you will not receive the seed of any other man, nor take any other male as a lover."

"I will not." Byakuya leaned forward and grasped the cup, bringing it to the lips. As he tasted it he realized it wasn't sake but some kind of honey wine, fragrant with floral hints. It made him heady, made his skin flush. Perhaps, he thought, it was some manner of aphrodisiac.

Two hands reached through the opening to reclaim the cup, and it disappeared behind the screen. "You will now seal your contract as we bear witness. Seal your emotional bond with a physical one."

Byakuya's breath caught in his throat as he realized that it was finally time to consummate their union. He looked up to see Zaraki smirking down at him. There was an awkward moment as Byakuya leaned forward, then leaned back, not sure of what to do. But it was solved when Zaraki reached forward himself, his hands coming to wrap around Byakuya's waist.

Byakuya allowed himself to be pulled into Zaraki's lap. He wrapped his arms around Zaraki's broad shoulders as Zaraki nuzzled his face against Byakuya's neck. Lips pressed against his skin as hands pulled at his kimono, and soon the fabric covering him melted away into a silken puddle on the floor. Zaraki licked a trail from the base of Byakuya's throat to his jawline, then brushed their cheeks together to whisper in his ear.

"Get on your hands and knees," he said, every syllable dripping with lust.

Byakuya shivered at the promise heavy in the words. He turned, hands and knees falling to the silk-covered futon. Hands brushed over his sides, down his thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They came back up to rest on the curve of his lower back and pulled him backwards just a bit. Soon he felt hot breath inside the cleft of his ass, teasing, tantalizing.

He arched as lips met his skin, as a wet tongue came out to trace the edge of his hole. The heat and moisture made his skin shiver, the touch made his limp cock twitch. He couldn't help but moan as Zaraki swirled his tongue over his entrance, over and over again, pressing down more and more firmly, until it finally breached that tight right of muscle.

Byakuya moaned as his body leaned back, desperate for more even if he wasn't entirely conscious of it. Zaraki's tongue delved even deeper, stretching his innermost recesses. Byakuya couldn't help but gasp and moan at the feeling of that hot wet, tongue, twisting and moving inside of him. He felt like he was being consumed, Zaraki was eating him so voraciously. The wet noises filled the air around them, filled the space of the small room. After forever, after no time at all, Zaraki drew away, and Byakuya mewled in protest as his hole was once again empty. But then he felt Zaraki come to his knees behind him, heard the rustling of fabric.

Byakuya could imagine what was happening. He could imagine Zaraki undoing the straps of his hakama, imagine the culottes falling to the side. He could imagine Zaraki pull apart the folds of his kimono, revealing a large, veined erection. He was tempted to look back, to replace imagination with reality, but than Zaraki started to touch him again. One of Zaraki's hands came to grab onto his backside while the other came to rest on his shoulder. It pushed him down, so that his head was pressed against the floor, while his lower body remained in the air, and held him there. Byakuya gulped as the hand on his backside pulled his ass apart, open, and something hard and blunt pressed against his hole.

With a grunt, Zaraki pushed himself in. Byakuya made an embarrassing noise of half pleasure and half pain as he was breached, as the thick spear of a man opened him up for the first time. It felt like nothing he had ever felt before. It pulsed inside of him, hot and thick, and Zaraki was sliding in even more.

Byakuya's fingers scrambled to grab onto the sheets even as his eyes fluttered shut. Soon he felt the front of Zaraki's thighs come to rest against the back of his. His master was now completely inside of him, and he had never felt anything so amazing. He used his ass muscles to clench around it, wanted to feel every ridge inside of him, and his movements elicited a strangled grunt from Zaraki.

Zaraki started to fuck him then, pulling out and thrusting back in with shallow, circular movements of his hips. Each rotation left Byakuya just a little bit more breathless. Each one sent immense pleasure radiating out from between his thighs. He realized then that there was no greater pleasure than being filled by a powerful man, and realized why wakashudo was such a sacred tradition.

Soon the room was filled with their noises. The slap of flesh against flesh, of Zaraki's grunts, of Byakuya's mewls and blissful cries. The pleasure built up inside both of them as Zaraki's pace grew, as he thrust into the younger samurai with all the force of his powerful thigh and ass muscles.

Eventually Zaraki's body pitched forward, sending them both to the ground. He continued to fuck Byakuya as they lay in this prone position, his chest against Byakuya's back, his mouth sucking at the flesh at Byakuya's neck. Byakuya could feel his hard cock rub up against silk cushions, and the sensation drove him over the edge. He cried out as he spilled himself onto the sheets, his entire body attempting to curl up with the orgasm. Zaraki continued to thrust into him until, moments later, he also cried out, and Byakuya felt his insides being filled with hot liquid.

They lay there, still, Zaraki's weight a comforting presence on Byakuya's back as both of them tried to remember to breath.

"It is done," said a voice. "The tradition of wakashudo now binds you. Live as samurai, live as lovers, and never forget the ties between you."

A kiss was pressed against the back of his neck, and Byakuya sighed in contentment. He could hear the elders shuffling out, leaving the two to their privacy.

A few days later, Byakuya blinked open his eyes to feel a comforting body at his back and a heavy arm thrown over him. He shoved it off, eliciting a small grunt from its owner, and stood up to get dressed for the day. Zaraki, on the other hand, just rolled onto his back and resumed snoring.

Byakuya frowned but decided to leave it be for today. It's not like there was much they had to do this morning; the town and the Eastern forest had been quiet for the last few days, and today it was finally time for them to go home. He had his kimono halfway on when the door to the room slammed open, revealing an out-of-breath Shunsui.

"Kenpachi. Byakuya. We have a problem."

Zaraki grumbled as Byakuya frowned. He reached for his obi as Zaraki started to get up, that customary grin on his face.

"Sounds like fun," Zaraki said.

A few hours later they found themselves back in the Eastern forest. The scene in front of them was gore and death. A caravan of merchants had tried to come through, but now they were all dead. Their corpses were left in a loose pile on the road, their blood staining red rivers in the ground. Some of them were missing limbs, some were ripped completely in half. It was a loathsome, disgusting sight. Behind them was a giant arm, sliced off cleanly and half decayed, with a note written on it: No one passes through this forest until the man who took my arm is given to me.

"So," Shunsui said, cringing as he looked at the sight, "what do you suppose we do now?"

Zaraki laughed. "Do you even have to ask? What happens now is I go hunt down the oni who did this and kill him."

Shunsui sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"What's this? You worried about me? What can a one-armed, half-melted oni do against a samurai like me?"

"Lots, if he has friends with him."

"His cavern seemed rather empty," Byakuya interjected. "It's reasonable to conclude that he lives alone."

"Don't tell me you're okay with this," Shunsui said, frowning. He sighed again. "Though I don't know why I expected otherwise."

"Let's hurry up and go already," Zaraki said, "I want to leave this town before noon."

The trio made their way back into the forest valley, and soon came to the opening of the oni's cave. Shunsui placed his hand on the jagged rock of the cave entrance as he stared inside, the absolute darkness within disconcerting him.

"Maybe we should just turn around," Shunsui said. "We can have convoys escort travelers back and forth, deal with it then."

"Don't be such a wimp," Zaraki said, swinging his katana over his shoulders. "Besides, I could use a little exercise. You wait here and act as lookout, yell down if anything funny happens."

Shunsui nodded. He wasn't in a rush to go in there, though he did have issues with Zaraki's young apprentice joining him. Though Byakuya didn't seem any less confident than Zaraki; he had lit a lantern they had brought with them and was walking to his master's side.

"What do you say, Byakuya?" Zaraki asked. "You think we can take care of this in an hour?"

"Maybe it would take that long for someone like you," Byakuya said. His nose was lifted up in his typical arrogance, but there was a teasing gleam in his eyes. "With my help it should take half of that at least."

Zaraki laughed, a loud, boisterous sound. "Let's go see what we can do then."

They made heir way into the cave, feeling along the wall as a guide. Zaraki went first, but Byakuya followed just a few steps behind, the light from his lantern swinging to and fro and casting light and shadows through the darkness. It didn't help much, but at least it helped. At one point Zaraki stopped and held him arm out. Byakuya stopped as well. He could hear it now, a deep, rumbling breathing, too heavy and loud to belong to be a human.

They started to walk again, but slower this time, more carefully. they had gone maybe five more meters when it happened. Something knocked against Zaraki's side, sending the other man flying into the far wall. Zaraki was able to catch himself and absorb most of the impact, but it didn't change the fact that the force that sent him into the cavern wall was enough to leave an indent and send chunks of rock falling to the ground.

Byakuya placed the lantern on the ground and got into defensive position now. He could see the oni now, a large, hulking giant with tan skin that almost had a red hue to it. He was bald except for fringes of hair coming out from either side of his face, and there were four ridges on the top of his head, two of which curved down to form the horns of a ram. He held a spiked club with his one hand, and chuckled as he saw Zaraki fly. When he spoke his voice was deep and slow, rumbling like the shifting of the Earth.

"So you came after all." His eyes shifted, taking in Byakuya. "And you bought the boy who was so tasty before. I'll have to savor him once I'm through with you."

"Byakuya," Zaraki said, "now."

Byakuya ran to the right as Zaraki ran to the left, both of them slashing across the oni's body. The oni yelled as blood sprayed out into the air like rain, his body falling backwards. But, to both their surprises, after a moment the oni stood back up again. An exchange of looks was all that was necessary to spur their next attack.

For the next twenty minutes they battled with the oni. Their swords cut flesh and surrounding stone as they attacked, as the oni swung at them with that large club, sometimes missing and sometimes connecting. It was a hard fight, harder than Byakuya had thought it would be. He had no idea that the body of an oni would be so resilient. Towards the end he wasn't just dodging the oni's club, he was dodging the rocks that were falling from the ceiling, hit loose due to their activities. His whole body ached, and he was sure he was bleeding from some cuts and punctures. Though it was nothing he couldn't handle. The oni looked even worse, drenched in red, with deep cuts all over his body. It shouldn't take long before he fell.

Then, drifting through the vacuous cavern, was Shunsui's voice. Something about the cave entrance. It didn't take much intelligence to see what was going to happen; Byakuya looked around at the falling rocks and the crumbling walls. The cavern was caving in.

"Zaraki," he yelled out," we have to go."

Zaraki turned towards him, disappointment clear on his features. "Yeah."

Zaraki thrust forward, cutting upward against the side of the oni's stomach. The oni gave a loud scream and stumbled back, giving them the opening to run away. As they ran more and more rocks came down upon them. And then the oni roared and gave chase.

"If I'm to be buried here, so will you two!"

The oni's footsteps were loud and surprisingly fast. He ran right behind them, a series of loud thuds following him, and as he did the walls shook and protested. As the cavern crumbled even more Byakuya realized what was going on. . . as the oni ran, he was swinging his club against the walls. He was intending to trap them there.

Finally, Byakuya could see the light of the cave entrance. He could see the forest beyond and Shunsui's silhouette. But the cave was crumbling all around them, and he realized that they weren't going to make it. Resignation fell heavy through his entire body even as he kept running. But then he was being lifted into the air, an arm around his waist.

"See you later, Kid," Zaraki said, and then Byakuya felt himself being thrown into the air.

Byakuya flew through the air for awhile before falling, body landing harshly and rolling through tough undergrowth and vines. As soon as he was able to, though, he was standing up and running back towards the cave. He couldn't see inside anymore, but he could see it crumbling, could see the mouth of it closing up.

"Zaraki!"

But then Byakuya felt himself jerked backwards as Shunsui held him back.

"Don't worry," Shunsui said, though his tone of voice belied whatever comfort his words were meant to give, "he'll make it in time."

But Byakuya could hear it, could hear Zaraki's sword as it hit against flesh and rock. And if Zaraki was fighting, he wasn't running. Byakuya could feel his eyes sting as he struggled uselessly in Shunsui's arm. The rocks were falling down too fast, it was going to be too late. He watched it horror as they fell, as they closed up around the entrance. After awhile he couldn't hear Zaraki's sword anymore. He couldn't hear anything. Just the sound of stones as they settled over the earth.

"Zaraki." His voice sounded broken and hoarse, and he couldn't deny the tears that were leaving tracks down his cheeks.

Shunsui let go, but all Byakuya could do was collapse. It was too late. After awhile he struggled to his feet and walked towards the pile of rubble that once was a cave. With his small hands, he started to remove the stones there. Without a word, Shunsui joined him in his task. But it was a hopeless cause. . . there was no way Zaraki had survived, and no way they would ever be able to dig out his dead body. They worked all day, but before nightfall Shunsui forced Byakuya back to the inn.

They sent convoys out every day to look for Zaraki, but everyone had already agreed that it was a useless endeavor. Soon enough they stopped doing even that. Byakuya stayed in the town for weeks. But the longer he waited, the more it became clear.

Zaraki was gone.


* This sentence was originally (as far as we know) said by Simonedes in an ancient Greek drinking song.

** These last two sentences are quoted, with some small changes, from the anonymous author who wrote Inu Tsurezure.