Bleach 1. Chapter 1

**Revamped, redone, rewritten and reposted.**

**Disclaimer, the one and only;** _Shiny does not own Bleach, nor get anything from writing this except perverse amusement_.

Welcome, one and all, to the Rosa revamp project. This story was originally written with no real plot in mind other than a romance story. I have concocted a plot for this now, and present to you the Rosa Revamp project!

The chapters haven't changed so much as rewritten and elaborated on.

I hope you enjoy!

_XxX_

Rosa Rubicondior, Lilio Candidior

_Redder than the rose, Whiter than the lily_

血のように赤く  
chi no you ni akaku

_Red like blood_

骨のように白く  
hone no you ni shiroku

_White like bone_

孤独のように赤く  
kodoku no you ni akaku

_Red like solitude_

沈黙のように白く  
chinmoku no you ni shiroku

_White like silence_

獣の神経のように赤く  
kemono no shinkei no you ni akaku

_Red like the beastly instinct_

神の心臓のように白く  
kami no shinzou no you ni shiroku

_White like a god's heart_

溶け出す憎悪のように赤く  
tokedasu zouo no you ni akaku

_Red like thawing hatred_

凍てつく傷歎のように白く  
itetsuku shoutan no you ni shiroku

_White like a frozen, pained cry_

夜を食む影のように赤く  
yoru wo hamu kage no you ni akaku

_Red like the night's hungry shadows_

月を射抜く吐息のように  
tsuki wo inuku toiki no you ni

_So shooting through the moon in a sigh is like_

白く輝き 赤く散る  
shiroku kagayaki, akaku chiru

_radiant white, scattered red_

-_XxX_-

"Rukia."

It was simple in authority, a command by all rights. The few remaining attendants fled the rear porch that encircled the gardens around the Kuchiki mansion. He sat on the edge of the terrace, legs crossed and hands in his lap. His captain's haori was folded neatly by his side, his scarf sitting atop of it. His fingerless gloves were piled atop of his tabi and waraji.

Rukia picked her way to her adoptive brother, watching as he turned his head to her. She almost gasped when she saw him hold his hand out for hers. Instead, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She slid her smaller hand into his, marvelling at the silk-like smoothness of his larger hands as compared to her callused ones. She allowed him to guide her to sit next to him, closer than he usually allowed others but not quite touching. She could smell his scent, something light and masculine, yet undeniably sweet and beautiful just like cherry blossoms.

"You called, Nii-sama?" she asked him.

She had steadily been testing the waters between them since Hueco Mundo. Ever since he came for her in the Hollow realm, he had been oddly affectionate towards her. After almost a century of being treated like an attendant, like she barely existed to him, he was slowly starting to open up to her. She had always wondered why he went through the trouble of adopting her into the clan where he barely even looked at her. Then she learnt about Hisana, her sister, his late wife.

She was the one 'mistake' he was permitted by the clan. The council of the Kuchiki clan, the shadow rulers of the clan, allowed his marriage to her commoner sister under the proviso that he followed all rules from that point onwards. Kuchiki's, by nature, were not warm creatures. They did not break rules, they did not disobey orders, they did not give affectionate gestures, and they did not smile. So, Rukia wondered what had gone so terribly wrong for Byakuya to have been smiling at her, subtle as it was.

"Nii-sama?" she tried again, much softer and with more abandon.

Byakuya gave her a small, rare yet weary smile. Rukia felt her heart hammer in her chest, threatening to burst out at any moment. Something was wrong. The smiles that he gifted her, rare as they were, had a small tinge of happiness and sadness to them. _Something was wrong_. But this smile he gave her, small and subtle and weary, was completely different.

It was heartbreaking

Her mind began to race, her heart pounding almost painfully against her ribcage. What had happened? She had only been back in the Seireitei, in Soul Society, for barely a full day. Most of that was spent reporting to Ukitake-Taicho of her findings, or lake thereof, in Karakura town for the last three months. In the wake of the war against Aizen, there wasn't very much in the way of serious attacks.

The real reason she had been sent there was because the Sexta Espada, Grimmjow Jaegarjacques, sole survivor of the Winter war, was regularly seen in Karakura. As it turned out, the Espada was there for a mixture of fighting and food. Apparently, the loser of their bouts had to shout the other lunch.

Ichigo was graduating in a month, and she had plotted with Urahara to throw a party for him and their friends. Ishida received a full scholarship into a prestigious medical school to take over his father's position as hospital director. Inoue was going to cooking school, much to the joy of her friends. Sado was working to open a dojo to teach the local kids to defend themselves.

And Ichigo, he was going to take over his father's clinic.

"Nii-sama? Byakuya…" she tried to say.

The words were getting caught in her throat as she tried to get them out. Her eyes widened as he shook his head, silently asking for a moment. He averted his gaze, trying desperately to avoid the crushing blue depths of Rukia's eyes. His grey-violet-blue eyes widened slightly as he felt a small hand grasp the sleeve of his shihakusho. He turned his head to meet her big blue eyes, feeling the ice that cased his heart begin to melt.

He swallowed, feeling completely out of his element. He was still new to the whole external emotional display, and it didn't help what he had to say. He trailed his hand up to hers, grasping his hand over it as her other hand clung to his sleeve of his kosode as well. Tears began to well in her bug eyes, the storm-tossed blue depths glazing over. She made a little moaning-pleading noise and leaned her head against his bicep.

"Please, Byakuya-Nii, what happened?" she asked.

She raised her head to look at him. All the worse scenarios were running through her head. What if something happened to her friends? What if someone was hurt, or worse, dead? It had to be the latter. Nothing else could make Byakuya wrap his arm around her so awkwardly.

"Rukia. It's Abarai. He…"

Rukia stopped breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_Clarification: it's a beautiful thing._

_XxX_

It was unnaturally dark in the room, considering it was coming to midday on a rather sunny Thursday. Thick drapes blocked out all but the smallest slivers of natural light, trickling through the small cracks between the thick material. One of those slivers fell across an nightstand, pushed against the window. It was fairly innocuous, and covered in inconsequential things; strips of cloth, a roll of parchment, ink, a folded newspaper from the human world. And propped on top of that newspaper, sat a framed photograph.

A red-haired and tattooed man being grappled in a choke-hold by a small, blue-eyed woman. Ichigo was pointing and laughing, Orihime following the line of her finger to the point where she went cross-eyed. Ishida was in the midst of attempting to beat his head against the table, with Momo and Kira trying desperately to stop him. Hitsugaya had his arms crossed over his chest with a scowl as Matsumoto cuddled him, crushing the back of his head into her large breasts. Hisagi was trying to wrestle a bottle out of Ikkaku's grip, with Yumichika watched with mock concern.

The nightstand was wedged between the window and the monitor of a large machine. The room were crowded with different machines, each giving its own whirl, beep, click and hum. The gave off an artificial glow, a faint green colouring that flooded over pale sheets, and the paler skin of the man occupying it.

His usual healthy sun-kissed tan was reduced to near white – almost sickly grey – making him look like a ghost. Vibrant red hair splayed over the pillow in every direction, only obscured by the thick white bandaging around his forehead and eyes. There were tubes and wires running from the whirling machines to the redhead, closely monitoring every bodily function the man produced. A mask was clamped over his mouth, a tube down his throat to breathe for him. His left arm was heavily bandaged, the thick wooden splint visible under the layers of gauze.

Violet eyes shifted from the prone fukutaichou to the woman by his bed. And nestled as close to the bed as she could get, in a high backed wooden chair, sat Kuchiki Rukia. Byakuya watched as she clutched his only good hand in hers, leaning over to whisper desperately to the redhead. In her other hand sat Zabimaru, small fingers tightly wound around its hilt, almost like if the three of them were connected, he would get better.

"Renji?"

Rukia's voice cracked as she called his name. The man before her didn't respond, didn't stir. Only the beeps of the heart monitor and the rasps of the life support met her croaking voice. She tightened her grip on both Renji's hand and his zanpakuto. Tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks, and Byakuya could almost feel his heart breaking at the sight.

He would be lying if he said it hurt him to see his fukutaichou in this state, but Rukia had a past with him. She had a whole twenty years, a whole other life, with Renji that Byakuya couldn't even begin to fathom. They relied on each other, supported each other and loved one another. And suddenly Byakuya wondered who he was to her, with the way she was gripping his hand and his zanpakuto.

Who was it that she had lost – that she was losing, so painful that it was Earth shattering to her?

A hand came up to the door he was leaning against, startling him out of his thoughts. His features were perfectly schooled as he turned his head to meet the dark, soft eyes of the Fourth Squad's Taicho. He nodded by way of greeting, turning back to look at his sister and his fukutaichou. He frowned in thought for a moment. It almost seemed like everyone he cared for in the slightest was being taken from him, one way or another.

"Kuchiki-Taicho," Unohana Retsu greeted amicably.

There were standing in a private room in the 4th Division barracks intensive care ward. Renji had been here for the past five days, since they found him staggering back through a Senkaimon, covered in blood and broken like a ragdoll. It had Byakuya concerned. Abarai Renji was by no means a weak man, and for something to do this kind of damage to him was truly worrying. He sustained lesser wounds in Hueco Mundo.

"How is he?" Byakuya asked, deep voice quiet yet demanding yet managing to keep the shake out.

Unohana sighed and smiled that polite smile.

"He's stabilized, but there's been no other change," she said slowly, as if to let the words sink into her fellow taicho's head.

She sighed again, smiled slipping from her face. Her usual demeanour was betrayed by the dark circles under her eyes and the slight sway in her stance. The woman had spent the last five days awake consecutively, so there was no doubt she was exhausted.

"Now that he is stable, I cannot be here all the time. I will leave Isane nearby, though, just in case," she told him.

It had been incredibly difficult to stabilize the rokuban fukutaichou, with all his injuries. For some reason, they hadn't responded well to her healing reiatsu like they usually did. She had never seen such extensive injuries in centuries, as she had told Byakuya a day earlier. He had broken ribs, a punctured lung, a broken arm, his liver had lacerated and his kidneys bruised.

And that was just internal. He had heavy external damage to his torso and face, especially his eyes. She had managed to save them, and as far as she could tell, they would not loose any function. The whole time, Byakuya had been in the room, watching intently as the 4th division had to heal his wounds manually. Unohana allowed it because she found it almost sweet, that he actually did care.

Byakuya nodded in thanks to her and crossed the room where Rukia was still clutching onto Renji.

"Renji? Come on, baby. Renji, honey, it's Rukia-nee-chan. Nee-chan's here now, lovely. You can wake up now, nee-chan's not going anywhere," she whimpered.

She rested her head against his thick bicep, mumbling nonsense under her breath as she bit back more tears. Her hand had wound so tightly into Zabimaru that the hilt had cut her hand. The sheets were stained with tears and blood from her hand as she rested the zanpakuto on the bed by his hand.

Byakuya hesitated before resting his hand on her shoulder. She was so small, and he had only just noticed it. And Renji's gruff voice rang through his ears like an apparition standing beside him.

_She always takes everything upon herself. __She had such small shoulders, and she tries to carry the weight of the world upon them, Taicho. She's not strong enough to bear that burden, so I'll help her. If I can alleviate any of that blood she sheds, I don't mind being in the thick of it._

He was right. He's always _right_ when it comes to her.

She held back so much, trying to shoulder all the burden to problems that weren't her problem or cause.

"Don't hold back, Rukia," he whispered.

It happened in a flurry of movement. Her hand dropped the sword hilt, tore away from the redhead's cold limb, and latched around his neck. She flung herself onto Byakuya, wrapping her arms around his neck while sobbing. Before he could fully comprehend his actions, he was pulling her tight against his, cradling her in his arms. Her feet were off the ground, his arms tight around her and holding her flush against him as she cried.

"Let me help. Let me alleviate some of that blood on your hands," he whispered to her.

She sobbed out a moan, grasping his hair as she buried her face into his scarf. He took a step backwards and toppled into her high backed seat, shifting Rukia into his lap. He ran his hands through her hair, petting it as she began to shake and hiccup. He used to do this for Hisana before she passed, stroke her hair while she coughed or shook.

And how Rukia looked so like her. So like his dead wife. Like the dying redhead not three feet from him.

He unhooked one hand from his sister's body and tentatively, gently, caringly, touched the back of the redhead's hand.

_XxX_

Unohana smiled and slid the door shut. She walked wearily to the staff station next to the fukutaichou's room. She filled a glass of water for herself and took a sip. She was beyond exhausted now, and only the energy pills her squad was famous for were keeping her conscious. The redhead fukutaichou had kept her quiet busy for almost five days straight, and only today had he finally stabilised.

"Isane?" she asked.

The silver-haired girl looked up from where she was filling out a form and smiled at seeing her taicho. Unohana returned the gesture, resisting the urge to laugh at the ink stain running across her fukutaichou's nose. Kotetsu Isane was one of her best healers, ignoring the fact she was her fukutaichou. She trusted the girl implicitly, and allowed her to see the small emotions she allowed through her visage.

"Watch Abarai-kun, if you please?" she asked, exhaustion evident in her voice now.

"Of course, taicho. Please, go get some rest. I'll call for you if anything changes," she said, dark eyes sparkling as she beamed at the older woman.

Unohana nodded and gave her a grateful smile. Before she left, she licked her forefinger and wiped the smudge from Isane's nose. The fukutaichou blushed and stuttered about checking in on Abarai. Unohana chuckled tiredly and left the intensive care ward. She made her way back to her private quarters, racking her brain on how to heal Abarai's wounds and on staying awake.

Once safely behind her door, she sighed and rested her head in her hands. She didn't know what to do, no idea how to heal the man with him unresponsive to her reiatsu. By all accounts, he should be healed, awake and bickering with her own fukutaichou and Kuchiki by this point.

The sound of ragged breathing and uncomfortable shifting behind her caused a small, albeit sad, smile to flit across her lips.

"You're back." It was an obvious statement, coming out gruff and uninterested.

"Abarai Renji almost died four times in the last five days," she sighed.

The sound of his thunking footsteps greeted her ears as he stopped just behind her. She leant back against the hard body behind her, using it to prop herself up as her limbs became numb. She could feel the strength all but drain from her muscles as the energy pill wore off. If he moved right now, she would topple to the floor.

But he didn't move.

"The kid okay?" Again, an obvious statement. He was not okay.

"He's stable, for the moment. Isane is watching him," she said, closing her eyes. She leant her head back against his chest, feeling the hard muscles ripple with each intake of breath.

"You need rest."

Retsu wondered if she caught him on a wrong day, or if he always stated the obvious. She had never noticed it before.

"Only for a little while. I need to go back soon."

She was greeted with a disagreeing grunt as he rested his large hands on her delicate shoulders. She tilted her head up, keeping her eyes closed. She could feel his hot breath, and it made her feel more relaxed than anything. She slumped further against him, relaxing once more.

"I can't figure out what's causing this to happen to him," she said, finally opening her eyes.

She looked up into his sharp golden eye sadly and sighed.

"I don't know what to do, Kenpachi."


	3. Chapter 3

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_Well, squee._

_Background story ~_

_XxX_

"We grew up together, you know," she said.

Rukia was still nestled in her brother's lap, his hand gently stroking down her arm. It had been several hours since she had spoken, content to doze in his lap. He had been almost un-Byakuya like, holding her in his arms for hours while she drifted in and out from her childhood memories.

"He used to call me nee-chan," she almost laughed.

She had the deep tone of someone recollecting a memory, alone with the evident exhaustion and worry. She had rearranged herself hours ago, now sitting with her legs draped over his thighs, dangling off the chair. The side of her body was flush against his chest, head curled underneath his collar bone. Her right arm lay limp at her side, reaching out to the redhead every few minutes while the other was curled tight in his haori. Byakuya had merely looped an arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"It's funny, because he's older than me. They always saw me as the older sister. It wasn't right, though," she told him.

She bit her lip in thought, and he responded by grazing his thumb along her elbow joint. She muffled a snort at the action. Obviously a tender spot.

"I was more mature, yeah, but he provided for us. He would disappear for hours and come back with food and water and blankets. It wasn't till later that I found that…" she stopped, breath hitching.

The silence was only permeated by the beeping of monitors and the soft sighs of the life support breathing for Renji.

"Can I…?" she stopped. _Can I tell you what happened? Can I tell you our… his story?"_

"Go on, little imoto-chan," he encouraged softly.

When he looked into those big blue eyes and saw his wife dying, he couldn't bring himself to deny her. He had told her the story of his wife, her sister. He knew so little about his own fukutaichou. Now he wanted to hear her story, and _his _story.

_XxX_

Rugonkai 78th District

_((Hanging Dog))_

Circa 100 years ago

"Hey, beat it you damn kids!"

A red brow rose at the old man's comment. Small, grubby hands came out in a wild gesture.

"We ain't done nothing!"

Renji's bottom lip stuck out in a sort-of pout, and the kid next to him crossed his arms and huffed. Reddish-brown eyes darted to the small boy slipping under the rickety wooden table the vendor was standing at. Renji's lips quirked and waved a hand at the old man dismissively, jerking his head to the side.

The other boy followed Renji down past the next stall. They hid behind the stall so they could see the old vendor, but he couldn't see them. Renji watched as the smallest of them, little Toboe, did his job. With his deft fingers, the little brunette boy tied a thick piece of twine around the man's ankle. He then gave Renji a thumbs up, and the redhead smirked.

He casually made his way back to the vendor's table, grin evident on his face.

"I thought I told you to get lost, brat!" the man yelled, waving his fist.

Renji bit back a snarl through his toothy grin. Then, with a swiftness not meant for a child, he snatched one of the clay containers off the table. He hoisted it into his wiry strong arms and backed up a step. The old man yelled, jerking over to where Renji was. The twine held fast, and the sharp movement made the man topple onto the dirty ground.

"Come one!" Renji cried.

Three more children, all boys, appeared from the crowd and snatched up a container. Each of the thick clay jars held something different, and Renji could feel that his help fresh, clean well water. The vendor rose and began to yell, grabbing his stick he used to beat the children who came too close. Renji turned and ran, knowing that his friends were following him. He didn't stop to check on the old man, knowing he had already unfastened the twine and was after them.

The young thieves rounded the corner, bare feet pounding against the loose dirt walkway. They alley they had turned into was generally clear, which was unusual for the Hanging Dog district. It gave them leeway to run, but it also gave the enraged shopkeeper a clear path to them. They were young and agile, but not as fast as the man. He could hear the old shopkeeper's shoes slapping against the ground as he gained on the children, waving his stick all the while.

It happened quicker than Renji could realise or grasp. A flurry of violet sped past him, flapping from the speed of her body. He dodged her as quickly as he could, spinning to his left before slamming to a stop. The girl was now skidding low along the ground, one foot thrust out before her as she came up to the shopkeeper. Her outstretched leg pivoted, thrusting the flat of her foot out to connect with the old man's ankle.

He toppled forwards, slamming into the dirt and blocking Renji's view of the girl. The shopkeeper moved to stand up, beginning to rise out of the dirt when her small feet ran up his back and slammed into the back of his head. She did this several times, Renji watching in amazement. She was repeating her actions, almost making it look like she was running in place on the back of his balding head. With one final, hard push, she jumped off the man and careened past Renji and the other boys.

"This way," she shouted, barely stopping to turn back to them.

Renji stuttered, eyes wide before his reflexes kicked in. He took off after her, his feet slapping against the ground as his friends followed him. Renji put on a burst of speed, his long legs pounding as the dirt turned to dry grass. He wanted to catch the girl, something compelling him to chase her. She was stopped by the dirty river than ran through Hanging Dog, under a large tree near a little rundown house.

The girl was standing against the tree, hand on her chest as she puffed. Renji slammed to a stop by her, doubling over and panting. He placed his jar on the ground, listening to the sounds of his friends running closer to them. He glanced up at her through his loosened hair, watching her through a curtain of crimson as he straightened up. She was looking back at him, deep blue eyes locking onto his russet ones. Her raven hair glinted dark blue in the sunlight that speared through the tree leaves, her violet yukata reaching her knees and her feet bare.

She was just like him

"Thanks, but I didn't need your help," Renji said haughtily.

A flitter of laughter greeted him, making his eyes widen as her body shook with humour. A light blush spread over his face as he scowled at her, nudging the clay jar with his foot. He crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best impression of being unamused and intimidating.

She smiled disarmingly at him and sidled up to him, stopping mere inches from his face. She had a soft, sweet smile on her face and her big blue eyes were closed.

"I'm Rukia," she said, voice tinkering almost melodiously.

Renji's blush deepened before he cleared his throat and back up a step.

"Renji," the boy said, turning his head to the side and closing his eyes.

Brown-red eyes snapped open as he felt slim arms wrap around his neck and a soft body press against his. She nestled her head under his chin and hummed happily.

"Hello, Renji."


	4. Chapter 4

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_Viva la italics!_

_Background story ~ part 2 ~ oooh_

_XxX_

Rukia-nee, stop it," Renji whined.

He had been trying, in vain, to swat the girl away from her growing obsession. Rukia dodged easily, tightening her hold to keep him in place. With one hand firmly wound in his crimson mane, she concentrated to taming the rest of his unruly locks. Renji sighed and slumped, knowing resistance was futile, causing Rukia to make a happy noise and release her death hold on his hair.

They had known each other for months now, and everyone had taken to calling her nee-chan. Renji was older than her, that much he knew, but she was always so mature she barely seemed her age. Well, she was mature when it wasn't concerning him. She had all but moved in with him and the other children in the rickety house by the dirty river.

They had all accepted Rukia for one of their own; their little mismatched family of orphans. Renji knew that their survival hinged on them sticking together, looking out for each other. Rukia seemed more than content to do that, especially when it came to Renji.

Renji tried desperately not to pout as Rukia forced him to sit on the floor, perching herself behind him on a low stool. She had a growing obsession with playing with his hair. She was currently running her comb through his thick red hair, sitting behind him with her legs on either side of his torso. Renji was blissfully unaware of their compromising position, enjoying the feeling of the soft brushing. Rukia dropped her comb and ran her fingers through his crimson mane, sifting the strands for knots.

She smoothed down the top of his hair, separating the mass into three sections. She braided his hair until it reached where his neck met his shoulders, where she had run out of hair. She tied it off with a bright emerald-green ribbon, smoothing her hands over his hair. She let her hands flow down from his hair to his shoulders in an affectionate gesture. Renji felt the heat rush to his face, but ignored it as Rukia rested her small head against his strong shoulder.

He had learnt early on that Rukia was a very touchy-feely girl. She loved giving little affectionate gestures to her friends, usually involving her touching them or holding their hands. Renji had accepted that, almost liking the affection the received. And, given that she was the only girl in their little group, he allowed her the comfort of her little touches. Not without some objections, hollow as they were.

"Mmm, I have to go now," he told her, tilting her head to see her eyes closed against his shoulder.

"Again?" she asked.

She crackled open a blue eye to look at him. He had been disappearing nearly every evening for almost a week now, and returning home hours later with fresh bread, fruit and clean water. She knew that she should be grateful, and she was, but she was beginning to worry about him. He had come back later last night, limping heavily and disorientated from a likely concussion.

Renji had, of course, brushed it off easily. Rukia may have been many things, but dumb was not one. There was very few ways for children to get food and clean water, and many people willing to offer.

"I'll see you in a few hours, Rukia-nee-chan," he told her, grinning one of his famous grins.

Rukia walked him out their little home, waving him off. He waved back as he jogged over the grass and between the buildings that led to the street. In an hour or so, she would gather their little family of orphans and make their way to the riverbank. A large section on the bank had been paved, and they would wait there for Renji. She would build a fire from driftwood and fallen limbs from the tree, and half an hour later Renji would turn up, grinning and carrying food and drink.

They would play and laugh and feast on the fresh fruits and bread. They would greedily guzzle the clean water, playing in the river until they couldn't keep their eyes open any longer or the fire died out. Then, Renji would lead them home, guarding his friends against the night.

His family.

Rukia would then tuck the boys in, kiss their foreheads and maybe tell the youngest, Toboe, a story. When they were settled in, the door to their house barricaded shut, she should lie down next to Renji, listening to him toss in his sleep and whimper when he woke.

_XxX_

"Did you find out where he kept disappearing to?" Byakuya asked.

He was immersing himself in the story, listening quietly and sharply. The hum of the monitors had become background noise to him, along with the heart monitor beeping periodically. The sun was beginning to set, the slivers of light failing behind the thick curtain. Rukia hummed in thought, lethargic and on the verge of nodding off to sleep. Byakuya couldn't blame her; she had had a trying day, to say the least.

"Not until many years later," she replied, her voice heavy and low. "He's good at keeping secrets, and cautious about being followed."

Byakuya petted her hair again as her fingers tightened into his haori. He waited a few minutes for her to slip off into sleep before cradling her in his arms. He stood carefully and moved her to the loveseat-like couch that was pushed against the window. He placed a spare blanket over her body, knowing very well that she would insist on staying with the redhead tonight.

He began to move to the door, but stopped by his fukutaichou's bed. His now-pale skin matched sickly with the sheets of his bed, contrasting only by his vibrant hair and black tattoos. He could see the heavy black markings along the redhead's chest before they disappeared under the crisp sheets. Renji's eyes and forehead were wound in thick gauze bandages, shielding them from further damage.

Byakuya looked down at the redhead's hand, brow furrowed in thought. He was usually tanned from prolonged exposure to the sun, too much training in the direct sunlight. And now he was deathly pale, almost like Byakuya's own skin, except with a sickly grey tint. He touched the back of his fukutaichou's hands, feeling the deathly chilled appendage. Byakuya grabbed his Zabimaru and placed it on the nightstand before throwing a spare blanket over the redhead.

He noticed a figure moving near the door outside in the hallway. He sensed her reiatsu and called out to her.

"Kotetsu-fukutaichou."

The passing figure froze at the authoritative tone of voice. Her heart began racing as she pulled the door open carefully. He was standing a few feet from the door, looking properly imposing in the dim light. Her brain was screaming at her to obey every order he gave her, without a moment's hesitation.

She wasn't ashamed to admit that Kuchiki Byakuya terrified her. She feared the Juichiban Taicho, Zaraki Kenpachi, too, but in a different way. He was rough and angry and violent, but Kuchiki-Taicho was smooth and flawless and completely _merciless_. He had no second thoughts about executing his own sister, and the mere thought of the cold man sent chills up her spine.

"H-hai, Kuchiki-Taicho?" she asked, bowing low enough to nearly bend in half.

Byakuya eyed her for a moment before approaching her, stopping two feet from the younger shinigami. Isane inhaled sharply, raising her head to peer up at him though her silvery bangs. His grey-violet eyes, so cold and emotionless, peered down at her, sending a sharp pang of fear through her muscles.

"Watch them," he told her, gesturing behind him to Renji and Rukia.

It was more of a command than a request, and it was one Isane was intent to follow. She straightened her back, but carefully avoided eye contact with the nobleman.

"A-ano, Taicho, there's a fukutaichou meeting on soon and I…" Isane said, desperately not wanting to finish the sentence.

If there was one person you did not say no to, it was Kuchiki Byakuya-Taicho. She would much rather be dealing with Renji. The redhead was easy going and fun, and decidedly not inclined to rip her head off and gut her like a fish. She would rather say no to Zaraki-Taicho, and that's saying something.

"I intent to attend the meeting for my fukutaichou and Kuchiki- fukutaichou," he stated, looking away as if he was loosing interest.

Wait, Kuchiki Byakuya was offering to go to the meeting in her place? She would almost think it were a joke had it not been Kuchiki-taicho. There was a small smile threatening her lips. He was cold and scary, but he _cared_, even if it seemed like he didn't.

"Aa," she replied, catching his drift.

Her sister, Kiyone, wouldn't believe this.

"Arigatou, Kuchiki-Taichou," she said, bowing once again.

Her body froze and her heart jumped as his larger hand briefly touched her shoulder. It was a fleeting touch, so light if felt like wind more than anything, and Isane was sure it had never happened had it not been for his reply.

"Arigato"


	5. Chapter 5

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_XxX_

"Aaah ~ Renji-chaaaaan!"

"Dammit, you're drunk again, aren't you Kira?"

"Nuuu! Not as think as you drunk I am!"

Hisagi Shuuhei, acting Taicho of 9th Division, sighed and slapped his hand to his forehead in frustration. Since Tousen had betrayed the Soul Society, Hisagi had been running the entire division almost by himself. And, if that wasn't enough to send his blood pressure skyrocketing, he and Matsumoto were taking turns in babysitting the currently inebriated blonde fukutaichou.

"It's been a bad day for him, Shuuhei-kun," Matsumoto said.

She hugged the small man to her chest protectively, likely smothering the blonde. Hisagi bit back the sigh that threatened to spill from his lips. Sometimes, Hisagi felt like he was arguing with a spouse over their child. He mumbled something under his breath, sounding vaguely like 'stop coddling him' before sitting roughly and sprawling over the floor.

Fukutaichou meetings were notorious for never being on time, so he settled himself in from a long wait. Hell, by the time all the fukutaichou got there, Kira would probably be sober. The soft sounds of another body sitting by him made him blink, and the body nestled into his side soundly. He glanced down to see Momo sitting against his side. He shifted slightly, giving her more room but not breaking the contact she so desperately craved and worked for.

"What's wrong, peach blossom?" Hisagi asked gruffly.

Only Hisagi Shuuhei could say a sweet nickname so gruffly and not get a negative reaction. Momo smiled brightly and nestled slower to the older shinigami, causing him to scowl. It would have been a fearsome thing had it not been lacking the emotion to actually make it intimidating. Hisagi grumbled and scooted over a little, causing Momo to giggle and scoot after him.

Matsumoto had to smile at that, but hid the expression in Kira's hair. Hisagi Shuuhei was usually very strict and mature, but he had a martyr complex. He was always trying to fix those who were broken by the betrayal, ignoring the gaping hole it had left in him. That's why Kira and Momo had so readily attached themselves to the scarred man. Matsumoto slid down in front of Hisagi, Kira still cradled to her large bosom.

The four of them were the only fukutaichou there, and like the only ones for a while to come.

"Quit it, duckling," Hisagi groused, nudging the small girl.

She giggled happily, purposely pressing herself further into Hisagi's side. Hisagi faked another complaint, but wrapped his arm around her waist. Momo was serenely calm, cuddled up to Hisagi's side so comfortably.

But she suddenly tensed and the door to the room slid open, revealing not a fukutaichou, but a taicho.

"Kuchiki-Taicho"

Said nobleman glanced down to where Momo was cuddled up to Hisagi, now tense and weary. The scarred man was unreadable, sharp eyes darting between the noble and the little shinigami alight with worry beside him. Matsumoto looked like a drowning fish, mouth opening and closing in succession, and Kira was struggling in her lap to regain his posture.

He disregarded them, instead moving into the room. He took a seat at the far end of the room, crossing one leg over the other on the high wooden chair. Momo had swivelled to watch him, and Hisagi had the man in the corner of his eye. Byakuya didn't have to be a mind reader to figure out that they were wondering what he was doing here and concerned about his redheaded fukutaichou.

"Kuchiki-Taicho?" Matsumoto asked, cocking her head to the side as she spoke.

He, however, completely cut her off.

"When will the meeting begin?"

His voice was clean and precise, no hint of emotion evident in his voice. Hisagi stood up, causing Hinamori to topple over. The little shinigami scrambled over Matsumoto's lap and slid between her and Kira, clasping his arm. Kira had managed to get himself sitting straight by the older woman, and was trying desperately to comprehend the need for a taicho's presence, let alone Kuchiki Byakuya's.

"Probably not until evening, Kuchiki-Taichou," Hisagi said, bowing to the man.

Byakuya have the scarred man a nod.

"Then I have no business here until then. Have someone notify me when the meeting begins," Byakuya commanded.

He crossed his arms over his chest, intertwining his hands together under his long sleeves. He rose with natural grace, striding towards the door. Before he could actually get there, however, Matsumoto stood and blocked his path.

"Ano, Kuchiki-Taichou? Where are you going?"

Byakuya's eyes narrowed at the younger woman, but she stayed firm. He knew that she would jump at the chance to interrogate him about Renji, despite the fact he was a Kuchiki. He was aware of her friendship with his fukutaichou; everyone in the room seemed fond of redhead. But Renji had just stabilized, and too much excitement might just give him a heart attack, literally.

"I have no need to be here until the actual meeting, and I do not have the time to waste sitting here doing menial tasks."

And somehow, in that icy statement, Matsumoto understood. For all his stoic façade, his cold demeanour, they only reason he was here was because of his sister and his fukutaichou. She felt a small smile tugging at her lips. Maybe he wasn't as heartless as she originally thought.

"May we come with you to visit Abarai-kun?" she asked, smiling.

She heard the shuffling of Kira standing up, gripping Hinamori's hand and pulling her up. Hisagi strode forwards to join them, interested in seeing his old friend and kohai. Momo wrapped her other hand around Hisagi's, looking very much like a child standing between parents. Byakuya looked at the four fukutaichou's, a small frown gracing his delicate features.

"No," it was simple, strong, precise and irrefutable.

He left in a flurry of expensive cloth, sliding the door shut behind him. Matsumoto felt a frown cross her face, her lips pursing in a pout. She huffed loudly, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. Hisagi sighed, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"We can't see Abarai-kun?" Momo said aloud.

There were tears welling in her big eyes, and Matsumoto could almost see Hisagi cringing. She knew that Momo was worried about Renji. He had disappeared once before, leaving behind his badge, back when Aizen was still Aizen and the Ryoka were just nobodies. She was worried he would disappear from her life, just like Aizen had. She was worried, and like always, she turned to Kira for support.

"No, we'll see him, little peach," Kira said, crouching down in front of her.

Kira wiped the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of his kosode. Matsumoto hummed in agreement with Kira's statement. She was determined to see the redhead, more so now that she had been told no.

Hisagi swore he could hear the cogs in her head turning under that mass of amber hair.

"Aha! I have an idea," she grinned, tugging at her pink scarf.

Her face was set in a determined grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. Kira moved to the older woman, bringing Momo with him, nodding in agreement.

Hisagi puffed out a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

_XxX_

"This is your problem, I don't see how I qualify?"

"Don't be such a stick in the mud!"

"Dammit Matsumoto!"

"Please, Shiro-chan? I know you're worried about Abarai-kun as well"

"It's Hitsugaya-Taichou, not Shiro-chan! And Hinamori, don't get involved with this airhead, it'll juts bring you trouble!"

"Aww, you're so mean to me, Taicho!"

"I'll start being nicer when you start being smarter!"

Hitsugaya Toshiro, 10th division Taicho and all round icy bastard, was currently being pushed around by two overly enthusiastic women. They were traipsing him over the 4th barracks, Momo leading him with her hand wound around his and Matsumoto pushing him from behind. He allowed himself a brief moment to reflect upon the fact that all women in his life were off their rocker _crazy_.

He could hear the footsteps of Hisagi and Kira coming after them. The two men were staying strategically behind the two women, and more importantly, the 10th taicho.

Hitsugaya had a sneaking suspicion that he was being used.

He was pulled into a wide hallway, passing several shinigami who were looking at the group incredulously. Hitsugaya had to appreciate the comical way they were most likely being viewed in. He was being carted around by two crazy women, against his will, whom had kidnapped him from his own office. And yet, somehow, he couldn't bring himself to verbally say no to them.

But that didn't stop him from complaining.

"Dammit! Why is everyone crazy?" he exclaimed, running his free hand through his hair.

"We're here, Taicho!" Matsumoto all but sang.

Momo moved out the way and his fukutaichou all but shoved him to the door. He recognised the sign plastered to the door, identifying the room as an emergency/intensive care room. He almost went cross-eyed as Matsumoto pushed him closer to the door, so much so that his nose grazed the wood. Hitsugaya stopped for a moment and strongly considered shoving his own fukutaichou's head through it.

But, before he could utter any death threats, the door slid open.

And standing there before them, arms crossed over his chest menacingly, was none other than Kuchiki Byakuya-Taicho, all round frightening son of a bitch. He also happened to be the very man who had ordered them to stay away from the room. Hitsugaya squinted up at the taller man, regarding him with a nod. Behind him, Matsumoto squeaked from muffling the scream that had risen in her throat. Kira moaned and pressed his head into his hands, and Hisagi let out several impressive curses while pulling Momo behind him.

It was good timing, considering the downright terrifying glare he was pinning the fukutaichou's with could possibly have frozen Hyorinmaru in its tracks.

"Ohayo, Kuchiki-Taicho," Hitsugaya greeted nonchalantly.

The older man's eyes flickered to the younger taicho before pinning back to the four fukutaichou's cowering behind Hitsugaya's back.

"I thought I told you…" it came out icy and downright pissed. "…that you weren't allowed here."

Hitsugaya snapped his head back to glare at Matsumoto. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. And he _was_ being used.

"Matsumoto," Hitsugaya growled out.

His fists balled at his sides, just begging for something to hurl at the older and infinitely more moronic shinigami. If she was stupid enough to go against Kuchiki, of all people, he was not going to intervene. She at least had the decency to look abashed, but there was a spark of defiance in her sharp eyes.

"But why can't we see him?" Kira asked.

He rested his hand on Matsumoto's shoulder, moving to stand next to the older blonde. Momo was moving to join them, but Hisagi shot his hand out. He herded her back behind him, shielding her from the brunt of the glare coming from the nobleman. Momo remained shielded behind his lithe back, her hand grasping his from behind.

"Juban Taicho, Hitsugaya-sama," came the steady voice.

His small head snapped to the side to see Unohana Retsu coming towards them serenely, followed by her fukutaichou. Her hands were folded together under her haori sleeves, and her fukutaichou had a stack of charts in her arms. Isane spared Matsumoto a quick smile before scurrying past.

"Unohana-Taicho," Hitsugaya replied.

It was the only greeting he could manage without trying to snap his own fukutaichou's head off. She smiled and stopped before them, bowing slightly to Byakuya.

"I am sorry, but I must ask you to leave. Abarai-kun has only just stabilized, and too much excitement and noise may undo that," she explained mournfully.

Hitsugaya pinned Matsumoto with a glare that promised retribution once they got back to their barracks.

"Sounds reasonable," Hitsugaya said pointedly.

Matsumoto blushed and linked her hands together in a nervous gesture. Unohana bowed to Hitsugaya and Byakuya, and turned to give the fukutaichou's a small nod before walking down the hall after Isane. Hitsugaya wrapped his small hand around Matsumoto's arm and tugged at her. She looked down at him, lowering her head in shame.

"Kuchiki-Taicho was trying to protect him?"

He looked back to where Momo was, peeking her head around Hisagi's back. Her hand was still wound in the scarred man's, squeezing it every now and again. She had told him once that Byakuya scared the stuffing out of her. Hitsugaya stopped to think about what his adoptive sister had said. Yes, the older taicho was protecting his fukutaichou in his own way. It was odd, especially for a Kuchiki.

Byakuya broke his musings by turning around gracefully, closing the door on them and retreating into the room. As Hitsugaya lead the four fukutaichou's away, they heard a disturbingly deep and calm voice call after them.

"Come back tomorrow."


	6. Chapter 6

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_My fridge is purring._

_XxX_

"Kuchiki- fukutaichou?"

The 13th division fukutaichou jumped visibly from where she had been slumped against Renji's bed. She blinked, startled, jerking her head back to the doorway behind her. Leaning against the frame was Kyoraku Shunsui, 8th division Taicho. He gave her a smile, usually ever present on his face, and took in her dishevelled appearance.

Her hair was matted from where it had been resting on the hospital bed, her eyes puffy and red. She nodded hastily to him, gesturing with her hand for him to come further into the room. He appeased her, strolling casually over to stand beside her chair. He always hated seeing women upset.

Kyoraku crouched down by the top of the redhead's bed, taking in his appearance as well. He was still pale, and had lost a lot of weight. His healthy face was now gaunt, black tattoos contrasting vividly against the deathly pale skin. He touched the fukutaichou's upper arm, feeling the chill of his skin.

"How is he?" Kyoraku asked, glancing back to the Kuchiki.

"There's been no change," she told him.

He watched her straighten out the sheet over the fukutaichou, following the creases that she had made the time before. She had been here since Byakuya told her about his condition. She hadn't left to shower, and Isane had bought her something to eat, but she could only stomach a small portion of what she was given.

"Unohana-Taicho said… his injuries are severe, and his internal organs ruptured. He won't respond to healing reiatsu, even to Minazuki," Rukia told him.

Kyoraku held back the urge to whistle. To be injured so badly that even the relief squad taicho's zanpakuto couldn't heal him was serious indeed. In a morbid moment, he thought Zaraki Kenpachi would be proud of the kid.

"Yare, yare," he hummed.

What could attack a shinigami so strongly that they resisted healing? This begged many questions. Abarai Renji was by no means a weak shinigami. In fact, Kyoraku had long considered him to be a taicho-class, not a fukutaichou-class shinigami. The fact that something could do this to him disturbed the man deeply.

"She said… she said that he may not wake up."

Kyoraku's eyes widened and his head snapped to the young girl. She was running her fingers over the tattoos on Renji's arm, then stopping to smooth out the sheet she had rumpled by the action.

"Hey, don't be so fatalistic, Kuchiki-chan," he told her.

"It was just a hollow. A Gillian class Menos. Renji could have killed that in a blink, no fuss."

His brow furrowed. A Gillian class? Even his own fukutaichou could quite easily kill one. Something about this just did not make sense. They had too few pieces of the puzzle to work by. He sighed. And it would stay that way until Abarai woke up. If he woke up. Kyoraku frowned. He would contact Urahara in the human world, try and get Ichigo and his pet Arrancar to look into this.

"Kyoraku-Taicho?"

His head turned to Rukia, where she was looking at him expectantly.

"Hmm?" he hummed in response.

"What did you need. You didn't come all this way just to question me on Renji," she said.

She spoke so forlornly that Kyoraku could feel his heart waver at the very sound. He pulled his straw hat down to cover his eyes, so his smile was the only thing Rukia could see.

"Two birds with one stone. Marching orders, little Kuchiki," he said

"What happened?" she asked, not looking up from the tattooed man lying before her.

"You've been assigned to Karakura again, as a temporary replacement to Abarai-kun," he told her.

He jerked his hat up a little to examine her expression. She looked stricken and much younger than she really was. She looked almost lost, surrounded by towering machines all working to keep Renji alive. He had purposely emphasized the word temporary to inspire some hope in the girl. Rukia sighed and nodded, causing Kyoraku to place a hand on her shoulder in a small, comforting gesture.

"You leave tomorrow," Kyoraku said, and excused himself.

She waved the older shinigami out, not bothering to get up to bow. Kyoraku was fairly laid back for a taicho, and didn't really put much stock in formality. Well, that was just judging by the way Nanao smacked him around. She rested her head on the bed against Renji's jip, which was one of the few placed that wasn't bandaged or injured.

Hollow attacks happening with the same old frequency as before Aizen's betrayal, but some of the hollows were different. They were getting much more powerful. Rukia wondered how Aizen was still screwing them from the grave. It reminded her of a small part of wisdom, probably the only part of wisdom, Ichigo had ever imparted on her.

_Those who live by the sword, die by the sword. Those who live by Aizen, die in insidious plots._

Her lips quirked into a smile, her hand resting on the unconscious man's thigh.

"That was the only thing Ichigo ever told me that had any wisdom behind it," she said to Renji more than herself.

Unohana said that he could hear her, even in his coma. She had been prattling away for the last few hours before Kyoraku came in. she had told him everything that happened in Karakura, even going as far as to give him a day by day recount of her three months.

She resolved to look into this when she was sent to Karakura the following morning. She would ask Urahara, and Ichigo would insist on helping. Not that she was complaining. Rukia would even ask Grimmjow Jaegarjacques if she had to, even though the Arrancar had punched a hole through her stomach. Still, it might be worth it to get a Hollow's input on the situation.

The steady beeping of the monitors gave her some comfort, more lulling her to sleep than anything. Renji had never been so seriously wounded that he was comatose, unable to breathe. She looked up at his face, eyes heavily bandaged.

His eyes had been slashed, but Unohana-Taicho had managed to save them. She wanted to keep them bandaged until he gained consciousness, and even a while after. She could feel her head reeling, wondering how she was going to break this to Ichigo. Renji was, without a doubt, one of Ichigo's best friends. The human would probably come bounding into the Seireitei and yell at the redhead.

She furrowed her brow, thoughts falling away in a haze. Renji's lips were cracked, and she considered getting some ice chips to moisten them. It was then she noticed the slight blue tinge to them, making her cock her head in confusion.

Suddenly, the monitor beside her began screaming, sending them small shinigami out her chair. The door burst open and shinigami poured in, including Isane. The silver-haired woman was shouting directives over the screech of machines. Isane yelled at her to get out the room, but Rukia stood transfixed.

Her eyes remained fixed on the heart monitor, that was show a single flat line. _He had no heart beat_.

A hand wrapped around her forearm and dragged her out the room, the shinigami yelling at her all the time. Over all the screeching machines, she couldn't hear a thing until she got into the hallway. It was then she realised that she had been screaming the whole time, her hands clutching at her chest. The fourth division healer stayed idly by, worried that the small woman was having a heart attack.

"What's going on?"

Several taicho-class shinigami were rushing down the hall, including Kyoraku and her own taicho. Rukia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out as Hisagi charged past her and into the room. Tears were streaming down her face, dampening the collar of her shihakusho. She collapsed onto her knees, legs finally giving out, as she screamed Renji's name through her sobs.

"Get Kuchiki-taicho," Kyoraku told Nanao firmly.

The girl disappeared into a shunpo, leaving them in the hallway. Ukitake wasted no time in moving to Rukia and hauling her up into his arms. He had never seen her cry like this, not even when Kaien passed. She automatically locked her arms around the taller man, sobbing desperately into his chest. Ukitake would have toppled backwards at the force had Kyoraku not caught them, wrapping his arms around both the 13th taicho and fukutaichou.

"Kuchiki? Kuchiki… Rukia. It's okay, Rukia," Ukitake shushed, holding her closely to himself.

Rukia wailed harder.

Barely a minute had passed before the crushing reiatsu of Kuchiki Byakuya appeared. Ukitake could see a shunpo blur at the very end of the hallway appear, which reappeared a room down from them. Byakuya ran the rest of the way, geta clacking noisily on the wooden flooring of the hallway.

He looked decidedly un-taicho like, and even more so just considering who it was. He wasn't wearing his taicho haori, or even his shihakusho. Instead, he was swathed in an emerald green formal kimono, the thick material coming down to cover his hands. There was a petal pink pattern encroaching up the hems, matching the internal layer and sash of the kimono. His hair was devoid of his keiseikan, flowing out behind him except for the three thick sections that stubbornly fell over his right eye.

"Nii-sama… Byakuya…"

Rukia felt his reiatsu before she even saw him, dislodging herself from both the taicho with a low, sad moan. She both flung and toppled forwards; Ukitake striving to catch her before she hit the ground. Byakuya sped up to catch her, but his momentum sent him crashing into the wall opposite his fukutaichou's room.

They slid down the wall, Rukia wailing and squirming in his arms. She clutched and pulled at his kimono, almost as if she was trying to burry herself in him. He held her tightly, back propped against the wall and legs sprawled out in front of him with Rukia in his lap.

Under different circumstances, Ukitake would have smiled at the show of sibling affection. Kyoraku still had his arms wrapped around Ukitake, resting his head on the smaller man's shoulder to get a better look at the pair. And both of them, in all their years, had never seen such a fearsome look on the nobleman's face.

Byakuya had a menacing glare carved on that beautiful noble face, eyebrows furrowing and teeth almost showing behind petal pink lips. Ukitake wondered how someone who looked feminine at the moment, could look so incredibly frightening. He could almost feel the angry reiatsu pull at his body, trying to clamp down on his throat.

"What happened," Byakuya asked, voice frighteningly even and calm.

Ukitake shook his head, keeping his gaze firmly off the siblings. He caught a glance at Hisagi, hovering by the door. The scarred shinigami was chewing on his lip, flinching every time one of the machines inside the room wailed. Ukitake placed a placating hand on the younger man's shoulder.

A brief flicker passed his vision, only catching a glimpse of white and black. A familiar insignia emblazoned on the back of the white coat. Everything would be alright now.

_XxX_

The room had returned to its previous silence, punctuated by the regulated beeps and deep sighs of forced breathing. Unohana-taicho had arrived shortly after Byakuya, after a fifteen minute battle, managed to stabilise the Rokuban fukutaichou. She had stopped and told them the good news; that Renji was stable and he was beginning to respond to her healing reiatsu. Isane was still coming into the room every so often to draw blood or check his vitals. The artificial lighting casted dark shadows on Renji's face, making his vibrant red hair seem dull and ragged.

Byakuya sat on the ground, his back propped against the side of the bed. He rested his head back against the mattress his fukutaichou was on, staring at the heavily covered window. Rukia was in his lap once again, although his time he was sitting much more refined manor. He had his legs crossed, Rukia's head on his thigh. Her forehead was resting against his stomach, her hand grasping his sash.

She had stopped crying out in the hall, but her sniffles and hiccups had only just abated. It amazed him how much energy Rukia had spent crying the last few days. She was beyond exhausted now, and he could see evidence of her permanent residence in Renji hospital room. Under normal circumstances, it wasn't allowed for intensive care patients, but these weren't normal circumstances. His sister had very strong feelings for his redheaded fukutaichou, almost as if he was another brother to her.

"I can't protect him," she murmured into his kimono, closing her blue eyes.

"Nothing could have protected him from this, Rukia," he told her softly.

He had very little experience in consoling people, especially those close to him. Usually, he didn't allow people to get close enough to him to care. And, either way he looked at it, Abarai Renji was close to him. He was his fukutaichou, and the only family his sister had known until he had adopted her.

"I should've. He always protected me. Provided for us. He used to do anything for me, no matter how trivial or if I was even joking," she told him.

She curled tighter into his lap, almost fitting entirely in it. Her knees were know pressing against his hip, eyes drifting shut as she shook a little. He began to comb his fingers in her hair once again, which helped to still her shakes.

"I'll always protect you," he whispered.

It was a poor attempt at consolidation, but it was true. He would always protect her. Byakuya could only hope that it would be enough to tide her over until the redhead awoke from his coma. He saw her bite her lip, keeping her eyes closed. He didn't miss the way her hand tightened on his sash.

"It's not the same," she whispered.

Her mind was racing, pounding against her skull. She was so exhausted and worn down and just _tired_. Tired of everything. It was igniting her already straining temper. She had such little rest, and that wasn't just physically. Three days. Three days ago she had come home to Renji comatose, and he had almost died.

He was barely clinging to life.

She looked up at her brother's chilly violet-grey eyes and felt the snarl pulling at her lips. Byakuya hadn't been through the things they had. He had never seen the horrors they had, living on the street. And he, he had never done the things they had to survive. He lived in a mansion with servants and luscious surroundings, never having to eat only once every three days. Not having to forgo sleep in case someone came for you.

Renji had secured her life, all of their lives, and he was comparing it to his trivialness?

"How is it the same? You don't know anything about us!" she almost roared, scrambling out of his lap.

"You never had to go hungry, or not bathe, or eat what people dropped on the streets!" she hissed.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her head felt like it was about to come loose. She stood up on unstable legs, pointing a shaky finger at him.

"You never sold yourself to feed your family!"

The words hit Byakuya like a cero to the head, fast and painful and _unexpected_. His eyes widened, drawing to the form of the retreating girl. She barrelled out the room, slamming the door in her wake. Byakuya blinked, the only conscious creature in the room. He stayed there, propped against the bed, as his mind reeled. Rukia had never… No, he would know if she did.

But then if not her, then who…?

Byakuya rose and drifted to the window. He slipped a pale finger in the parting of the drapes to separate them a little, peering outside. He could see the retreating form of his younger sister, probably on her way to Ukitake's residence. He released the drape, watching the heavy material slide back into place. Byakuya released a sigh and perched himself on the edge of the couch underneath the window.

"_I was more mature, yeah, but he always brought home the food. It wasn't till later that I found that…"_

Lavender-blue-grey eyes snapped open, immediately locking onto the prone redhead. He felt his mouth drop slightly as he took the few steps to the medical bed. He examined the man's face, pale and clammy with brilliant shocks of red and black. How could a starving child obtain food? If he wasn't so below it, Byakuya would have kicked himself.

Had his fukutaichou really done as Rukia had implied? Had he sold himself to feed his family; to feed Rukia? Byakuya hadn't felt this overwhelmed since Rukia's execution, powerless to do anything but watch and try desperately to rationalize it in the recessed of his mind. Carefully as to not dislodge the tubes running to the redhead, he placed a hand on either side of his fukutaichou's head.

He lowered his head to hover mere inches from his. His sharp eyes took in every detail. His face was still heavily bandaged, though Unohana said they could remove the wrappings from his forehead any day now. He could see the ends of his elaborate brow tattoos peeking out from the gauze near his hairline.

It was then Byakuya realised that he knew little to nothing about his fukutaichou. He had no idea if the man still had a family, if he had parents. He knew nothing about the man's life, except what Rukia had told him. The only thing he knew for sure was the name of his fukutaichou's zanpakuto.

_How could you? You pay no heed to what's beneath you_

Byakuya narrowed his eyes.

"Abarai Renji… who the hell are you?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_Turned out, the purring was my cat. Got stuck behind the fridge._

_XxX_

Kuchiki Byakuya did not pout. Kuchiki were nobles, and nobles did not show outward motion, and that included pouts. So when Byakuya pursed his lips in an almost petulant manor, it most certainly was not a pout. He had been staring at the same request form for almost ten minutes now, and he was somehow having trouble comprehending it. Since when did he deal with requests for green-inked pens?

His pursed lips were teetering dangerously towards that thing that Kuchiki's did not do.

He shifted on the couch, careful not to upset the stack of paperwork balancing on the seat beside him. He signed the form with a sigh, placing it on the neatly growing stack of signed documents on the floor. He had recently moved his office, and more importantly, his paperwork, to the 4th division's intensive care barracks. More specifically, one Abarai Renji's room.

It was two days ago his sister left for the human world, and before she stepped into the Senkaimon, she turned to him, apologised, and kissed him goodbye. She made him swear to look after Renji, her other brother. Rukia had done this, knowing that there was no way that Byakuya could refuse her at the time. She knew she was monopolising the fact, but she also knew that Byakuya was looking for a reason to keep watch over his fukutaichou.

He wasn't nearly as heartless as other made him out to be. He may not have gone around displaying his feelings, but Rukia knew that he cared for his fukutaichou. If he hadn't of cared, then the older man would have never inquired about the redhead's personal life. And he certainly would have never let Renji within ten feet of her.

Byakuya had merely nodded in affirmation, leaning down to peck her cheek and wishing her a safe journey. She smiled at him and left through the Senkaimon to Urahara's shop. Within an hour of her departure, he had the entirety of his paperwork, and his fukutaichou's, moved to the fourth barracks intensive care ward. Rikichi appeared like clockwork every few hours to collect the signed paperwork and deliver it. And every time, he stopped on his way out and stared forlornly at the redhead prone not five feet from Byakuya.

Byakuya rolled his wrist beneath his white glove, trying to stretch the pale flesh beneath. He used his other hand to massage his sore wrist, resisting the urge to wince. Renji was ridiculously far behind in his paperwork, procrastination being the redhead's favourite subject. He glanced over his shoulder, enjoying the open window and thick rays of sunlight falling into the room.

His wrist strained and Byakuya made a sour face. He stopped suddenly, releasing his wrist and letting his face go carefully blank. Since barricading himself in the redhead's room, he had been letting these little gestures and expressions slip through his cool demeanour. If he wasn't so above it, he would have levelled a glare at his prone fukutaichou. That man had a way of bringing Byakuya out of his shell, whether he wanted it or not.

Not that he would ever admit that someone could draw the unflappable Kuchiki clan head from his shell.

The Rokuban taicho turned his gaze to the bed in the centre of the room. He found himself doing that more often than necessary, more often then he was comfortable admitting. He initially wrote it off as forced concern for his sister's other brother, but that quickly faded every time he looked at the pale man. He was so sickly pale that Byakuya could feel his heart thump and his throat constrict painfully.

Byakuya abandoned his paperwork for the umpteenth time that day and stood. He picked his way to his fukutaichou, careful to dodge the stack of forms and medical machines. He shuffled his hands underneath his haori and shifted one of the machines a little so the midday sunlight could warm the redhead's skin.

Renji had such a personality, one that forced its way under other's defences. Whether it was his rough charm or bull-headed stubbornness, Byakuya could not say, but it was effective nonetheless. Renji had managed to worm his way under Byakuya's defences without even being conscious, and he wasn't sure if that was a testament to himself or his fukutaichou. When he looked at Renji and thought, he could still hear Rukia's outburst echoing in his head.

_How is it the same? You don't know anything about us! You never sold yourself to feed your family_

And she was right, he reflected. He knew nothing about their past life, before Rukia's adoption and the Shinigami Academy. He had never even tried to understand or ask before.

_How could you? You pay no heed to what's beneath you_

A shudder tingled up his spine, causing him to arch slightly. Renji had told him this over a year ago, back when Rukia was still scheduled for execution. He had achieved Bankai, no small feat, and Byakuya was the first one to ever see it. That day, his fangs did reach Byakuya, but it wasn't until now that eh realised how deeply they had pierced.

Another expression threatened to break his façade, so he furrowed his brow to keep it at bay. He really had to stop that, stop allowing his emotions to rise too close to the surface. Byakuya stood by the head of the bed, just looking at the redhead resting on it. Renji was his fukutaichou, his sister's first and real brother, his own determined enemy and priceless ally. Abarai Renji was a bunch of contradictions wound into a man, and Byakuya would have never realised it without the forced intervention of his sister.

Looking at the redhead's face, Byakuya noticed the small bit of colour that had come back into his cheeks. He reached out, hand hesitating in midair for a moment, before brushing a ling finger over Renji's cheek. The flesh beneath his finger was warmer today, and whether it be from impending recovery or the sunlight, Byakuya was filled with an odd sense of relief. The paleness of the redhead did not suit him in the slightest. Renji was supposed always warm and rough and _vibrant_, not pale and cold and dull.

Byakuya had developed an obsession in the last two days, which was most unbecoming for a nobleman. He almost obsessively touched the redhead's bare skin, and more so, Renji's fire-red hair. Byakuya ran his fingers through the mass of scarlet, smoothing it out almost religiously for the last day. His hand strayed from his thick tresses and came down to rest the back of his hand on Renji's cheek. Unohana came round often to check on the redhead or offer Byakuya tea, and if she noticed his odd behaviour, she didn't comment.

Byakuya was grateful for that.

The heart monitor that Byakuya had nudged over minutes ago screamed to life, howling piercing alarms down the barracks. Byakuya's hand flew from Renji's cheek to his chest, pressing over his heart to feel for a heartbeat. A pained yelp punctuated the air and Byakuya jerked his hand away. Renji jolted into an upright position, making Byakuya step backwards in shock.

Renji's large hand flew to his face and began clawing at it, undoing the bindings and tape that help the respirator and tube in place. There was a disgusting sucking noise as Renji wrenched the respirator tube out of his throat and dropped it onto the ground. The redhead almost doubled over, forehead coming dangerously close to his knees as he sucked desperate breaths in through his teeth.

Suddenly, small hands pushed the redhead back against the pillows. Unohana was holding him down with a force that Byakuya was not aware she possessed. She was yelling directives at her subordinates, watching as they tried to both restrain and medicate the fukutaichou. Renji's hand flew to his face once again, seemingly intent on tearing off his bandaging.

Byakuya darted forwards and caught the hand in his grip, pinning it to the pillow by Renji's head. He could feel the pure power of adrenalin surging from the fukutaichou, and he adjusted his grip accordingly. Renji responded by howling and thrashing, managing to throw off a pair of shinigami who were trying to hold the rest of his bulk down. Byakuya used his other hand to pin the redhead's shoulder to the cot, relieving Unohana so she could sedate him.

If there was one thing he knew about his red haired fukutaichou, it was that the man's fight-or-flight instincts were heavily wired towards fight. He should have actually expected this type of waking; the last thing Renji remembered was being attacked. But his thrashing was just going to worsen his injuries, not to mention the shinigami on the floor, cradling a broken nose.

"Renji!"

The redhead froze at the outburst, though his limbs were still shaking. His mouth was falling open and then shut in desperate, gaping breaths. Byakuya noted that he looked very much like a fish, or Hitsugaya's fukutaichou. He lessened his powerful grip, allowing the redhead to rotate his wrist in Byakuya's hand.

"Taicho?"

His voice was raspy and cracked from not being used for over a week now. Almost without Byakuya's permission, his other hand left the redhead's shoulder and raked through Renji's thick hair. His hand then came down to rest on Renji's cheek, causing the redhead to gasp against the pale flesh. Renji quite visibly relaxed, whether it from Byakuya or the amount of sedative Unohana had just administered, Byakuya did not know.

Unohana sighed and dropped the pump in the saline drip. She came up to the opposite side of Byakuya, near the fukutaichou's head.

"Abarai-fukutaichou, it's Unohana-Taicho. Can you hear me, Abarai-fukutaichou?" she asked softly, yet completely seriously.

She was hovering near his head watching him intently for any twinges of pain. Byakuya withheld the gasp when he realised his hand was still on the redhead's cheek. He removed his hand quickly, almost daring to place it back there when Renji whimpered at the loss of contact. His eyes darted around the room, looking for witnesses to his display of affection. The room was miraculously empty, and Byakuya had a feeling that Unohana had emptied it for him.

"…Aa," Renji mumbled in response.

Unohana waited patiently by his bedside with Renji collected himself. Byakuya was all but hovering around the head of the bed, carefully out of contact range with the redhead. His eyes darted from Renji to Unohana, watching as the motherly taicho took his hand down from his pillow. Byakuya would not hesitate to admit that the woman was an exemplary medic, especially now that his fukutaichou was finally awake. Byakuya couldn't bite down the feeling of near euphoria that Renji was conscious, and knew that Rukia would weep with relief at this time.

"Where… am I?" Renji mumbled aloud.

His voice was fogged from the drugs, and still gruff and raspy from the respirator tube. Byakuya found himself inching closer to the bed, hand poised between them as he debated whether to touch the redhead or not. He had become so used to it, both for Rukia and his own small comfort. Unohana wrapped her hand around Renji's uninjured wrist, mentally counting the redhead's heart rhythm.

"You are in the Fourth Barrack's intensive care ward," Unohana told him.

Her eyes immediately flew to Byakuya, watching as the noble shifted uncomfortably.

"Try not to move, Abarai-fukutaichou," Unohana insisted. "You have received significant injuries to your abdomen, arm and face."

Byakuya could see the hysteria begin to rise in the redhead. The heart monitor began to pick up speed again, battling against the sedatives. Byakuya immediately began to stroke his hair, much like he had done for Rukia and his late wife.

"I can't see," Renji said hoarsely.

"Your eyes were damaged, but we have repaired them. The bandage just has to stay on a little longer," Unohana told him gently.

Renji visibly sagged, exhaling sharply. The redhead's cheeks were now burning with warmth as Byakuya trailed his hand down the crimson locks by his ear. Byakuya didn't feel the small smile hitch on his lips as he separated a tangled lock and smoothed it out.

Unohana hid her own smile in her sleeve cuff before addressed the Rokuban fukutaichou once again.

"Get some rest, Abarai-fukutaichou. All will be well enough, soon," she told him gently, patting his cast-free arm.


	8. Chapter 8

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_Courtesy of late-night insomnia._

_XxX_

Renji concentrated on his breathing, taking strong and steady breaths under Unohana's instruction. The haze of drugs from the previous day had worn off overnight, leaving Renji feeling exhausted and numb. He had no plans to sleep, despite the fact he could feel it tugging on his brain. He could hear Unohana giving soft directives to Isane as the other fukutaichou gently felt around his body for injuries.

He threw out a couple of snarky replies when asked if it hurt, and Isane actually chuckled and he could almost feel Unohana's smile. Renji would sense his taicho's reiatsu nearby, barely five or six feet away. The usually crushing aura was unusually subdued, and it tingled in the back of his addled mind as an almost comforting feeling.

Byakuya perched himself on the couch once again, though this time it was bare of paperwork. Renji had been supervised through the night, and when Byakuya entered the room in the morning, the redhead was still asleep. Unohana had only removed his breathing mask under an hour ago, and was now letting the redhead breathe for himself.

Byakuya was watching the medic closely, morbidly intrigued in their practise. He knew that Renji was injured, but he had no idea of the severity. Unohana had used most of her reiatsu to heal his internal injuries overnight, his body still rebelling against the healing energy. Byakuya felt a thick string of anger spike down his spine and rush through his veins. He willed the feeling away, sucking in a deep breath through his clenched teeth.

Unohana blocked Byakuya's view as she unclasped the brace on the fukutaichou's arm. The nobleman stood and moved around the now idle life support machines to get a better view. Unohana glanced at him and spared him a slight nod before continuing her work on unwrapping the bandaging holding the splint on. She handed the wrappings to Isane, dismissing her own fukutaichou from the room.

Byakuya just looked at Renji, taking in the man's battered appearance.

"Maa, is everyone…ah!" Renji stopped and groaned as Unohana flexed his arm.

She carefully prodded parts of the his skin and smeared a balm over the inflamed flesh of his arm. She went about re-splinting his arm and winging fresh bandages around it.

"Is… everyone else… all... right?" he panted after she had stopped jostling his arm.

He was having trouble catching his breath, which made Unohana's brow draw. She ignored his small grunts of pain as she elevated his damaged arm to slip the cast back on. His arm was healing, but not at the rate at which it should have been.

"Yes, everyone is well, Abarai-fukutaichou," she told him. "You have had many concerned visitors," she added.

She was securing the fabric brace in place with flexible ties and medical tape. Renji was already trying to move his arm, flexing his fingers and rolling his wrist with a wince. He could move his elbow just fine, and his upper arm was fine. Unohana had told him that his ulna was broken, carefully gesturing to where it connected his wrist to his elbow.

"What about Rukia?" Renji gasped out.

His voice was getting clearer with each work he spoke. Byakuya shifted his stance slightly, lowering his head to look at the redhead's face. He had known that she would be the first person to be asked about, and yet he was finding himself unable to answer.

"Kuchiki-fukutaichou has been sent as a replacement on your mission. Before that, she lived in this room until she was deployed," Unohana told him.

She was now checking the bandaging around the redhead's chest, making sure the gauze clamps were enough to hold them in place. Renji's skin had regained some of its tanned colour, which made both of the taicho's pleased. Renji hummed a little, more ticklish than actual pain at Unohana's ministrations.

"Ah… and Kuchiki-Taicho?" he asked, a small sliver of something undefinable in his voice.

He must be so used to the nobleman's reiatsu that he had forgotten that Byakuya was even there. It made a smile tug on Unohana's lips, and, judging by her fellow taicho's face, his lips too.

"Why don't you ask him yourself, Abarai-fukutaichou? He hasn't left your bedside," she explained, excusing herself and sliding the door shut behind her.

Renji's mouth, once again, strongly resembled a fish as he gaped for words. He had forgotten all about his taicho being there. There was just something in his reiatsu that was so familiar, that had integrated into his unconscious world while he struggled to live. And Byakuya, he would have almost blushed if he wasn't so above the action… and if he wasn't so in control of his emotional responses. He was suddenly glad that the prone man could not see him as small flush of pink graced his cheek bones.

"Aa… Taicho?" Renji asked tentatively.

He sounded unsure, almost as if Byakuya wasn't actually there and it was a delusion. The nobleman in question furrowed his brow a little and straightened his posture.

"Yes, Abarai?" he asked, voice low.

He had no idea why his voice was so low and soft, almost comforting. He just assumed it was something you did around the sick and injured. Then again, he wasn't exactly the picture of normalcy, and neither was his fukutaichou.

"Ah…ano…" Renji spluttered.

The redhead was talking to him like his delusion had turned into a hallucination. Byakuya felt a smile tugging on his lips as he vaguely considered playing along to the redhead's thought. But, Kuchiki Byakuya was much more mature than that. Ignoring the fact that Rukia would likely hit him.

As if it had a will of its own, Byakuya's hand came out and rested on Renji's shoulder. The man beneath him froze, almost as if he was expecting to be punished or the like. Byakuya just blinked, watching as colour blazed onto the redhead's face. It was then that Byakuya realised that the only times he had ever touched the redhead was when they battled. Byakuya felt the overwhelming urge to smooth out the redhead's muddled hair once again, and sure enough, that's what he began to do.

He removed his hand from the chords of muscles on Renji's shoulder and began to religiously smooth out the disarray of violent crimson. Byakuya figured he could just deny the situation ever took place and shift the blame to the painkillers the redhead had been administered. Renji kept uncharacteristically silent as his taicho's long, slim fingers raked through his hair. Byakuya's fingers occasionally brushed against his scalp or neck, causing Renji to shiver.

He had always loved having his hair played with, a situation that Momo and Matsumoto took advantage of often. It made him bonelessly relaxed and almost catatonic at times, which often made Kira laugh. But this situation was different, because there was no way that Kuchiki Byakuya, the Rokuban taicho and all round icy son of a bitch would be playing with his hair.

"Been here a lot, Taicho?" Renji asked.

Byakuya never though he would miss the sound of Renji's voice. The redhead was usually unerringly boisterous, and after a week of silence, his husky voice was almost like music to Byakuya. It was so good to see his fukutaichou awake and alert once again. He had never expected for something like this to happen, especially to his fukutaichou.

"More or less," Byakuya said sharply.

Renji had to bite back the relieved sigh that came at his words. Renji had no idea how much relief flowed through him at the sound of that deep, silky voice. He had never really equated his taicho with the concept of safety before, but Renji felt amazingly secure in his weakened state with the older shinigami close by.

The noble's long fingers were still carding through his now-smooth hair, curling around a thick lock every now and then. Renji wrote the whole thing off to pain killers, knowing full well that his taicho would never actually be doing this. He wanted to take advantage of the feeling a little while longer, just as he wanted to hear the silky voice of his taicho again.

"I split the duty with Matsumoto-fukutaichou and Hisagi-fukutaichou," he told the redhead.

That was a blatant lie, and Byakuya could only hope that the redhead was too hazy to remember to ask about it. He felt an urge to cover up how much time he actually spent in Renji's hospital room, though he couldn't identify where the urge came from.

"Aa… how is everyone," Renji slurred slightly.

His voice had a drowsy effect to it, probably from the medication he was still on for his injuries.

"Well enough," Byakuya told him. "Rukia was very upset," he added.

A sigh pushed past Renji's lips, whether from the information or the removal of Byakuya's hand, was unknown. Renji released a hum, exhaustion and sleep reeking havoc on his thought process.

"And you?" Renji asked sleepily. "Are you okay, Taicho?"

Byakuya resisted the urge to smile at the redhead and smoothed down his hair once again. Renji made a small sound, something between a purr and a noise of contentment. Byakuya chalked it up to another oddity of the red haired fukutaichou. The nobleman felt a warmth travel down his spine and rest in his breast, allowing the smile to slip onto his face.

"Hand cramped, actually. You've been neglecting your paperwork again," Byakuya said.

Renji had a very bad habit of doing that. He habitually slipped little pieces of his paperwork into Byakuya's pile. The nobleman let it slide as a reward for the redhead's good behaviour. But, over the last few days, Byakuya had been doing the paperwork for both him and his fukutaichou. It wasn't something that was required, but it helped to settle his mind away from Renji's injured form.

"Taicho, was that a joke?" Renji slurred heavily, but the amusement was evident in his voice.

A lazy smile was stretched over Renji's lips as he drifted into a hazy sleep. Byakuya's lips turned up into a smile as his hands slipped from the redhead's vivid hair to his face. Byakuya stroked his now colour-filled cheeks with that small smile on his face, listening to the quiet yet natural breathing of his fukutaichou.

"I guess it was," he said quietly to an empty room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_The four R's of fic-dom_

_I love this chapter. It's oodles of fun to write this group of misfits._

_XxX_

Unohana Retsu stood at the counter, rifling through charts and other miscellaneous paperwork that had accumulated. She was undeniably relieved that Abarai Renji had woken up. After his last heart attack, his chances of waking had dropped dramatically. Then, he regained consciousness the previous day, which resulted in no extra injuries to himself, but one of her seated officers had a freshly healed nose.

She had almost expected him to not wake up again, but then he had responded, albeit sluggishly, to her healing reiatsu. She was thrilled that he had woken up again today, this time lucid and aware of where he way. She almost cringed at the thought of having to tell the Kuchiki clan head that his fukutaichou was not going to make it.

"Kid's fine, I see."

Retsu glanced over the counter to see Zaraki Kenpachi leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and he had a wolfish grin on his face. She couldn't see Yachiru, guessing that the girl was still sleeping. Retsu smiled at the larger taicho and tucked a stray strand of hair back.

"Yes. Abarai-fukutaichou has woken up," she said with a noticeable happy note in her voice.

Zaraki grunted in affirmation, scratching the back of his neck. Retsu smiled and cocked her head to the side, moving out from behind the counter.

"Ikkaku and Yumichika wanted to visit him," Zaraki said.

It sounded strongly like he was trying to justify his reason for being in the fourth barracks when none of his own squad was injured. There was no way that Zaraki would ever imply that he was even slightly concerned about the redhead that was once in his squad, so Unohana didn't mention it. She just smiled, turning to sift through the charts to find Abarai's. The fukutaichou was close to being discharged, but she didn't want to risk a relapse. When he was discharged, he would need full-time care.

A swift, artificial breeze flew through the open window behind Unohana, keeping her smile in place. It made her haori flutter as the sound of waraji tapped towards the entrance along with a remarkably familiar reiatsu.

"Ohayo, Kuchiki-Taicho," she said aloud.

Zaraki was looking at her oddly, eyebrow furrowed as his sharp golden eye darted around for the taicho. He caught a brief glimpse of a shihakusho and taicho's haori pass the window behind Retsu, and heard the firm, mirrored reply. He blinked, feeling somewhat confused, but shrugged it off before stalking to the counter with a wolfish grin.

"Feel like taking some time off?" he asked, grin stretching wide over his elongated canines.

Unohana's smile twitched upwards, not put off by the man's display in the slightest. She shut her eyes briefly, mind racing and tabulating, before opening them once again and cocking her head to the side.

"Let me go find Isane," Retsu replied, giving him her own smile.

_XxX_

"… and then you'll never guess what Taicho did…!"

Renji pursed his lips, finally glad his eyes were bandaged so he could roll his eyes. Matsumoto continued her rant, not put off in the slightest by Renji lack of interest. She had planted herself firmly on the left side of his bed, where the redhead had scooted over for her to sit. He had purposely made her sit that side so she would not hug him. She was gesturing wildly, brushing against his upper arm every now and then. She also bounced when she talked, which Renji was finding amazingly annoying.

Renji was finding that he did not need to see to just know everyone reactions.

A grunt issues from his right, clearly from Hisagi and Renji could almost _hear_ the older male roll his eyes. He had always liked the Juban fukutaichou, finding that despite his appearance, he was easier to relate to. Hisagi's upbringing was remarkably similar to his own, and he was easier to communicate with despite the fact they rarely talked. After penetrating his gruff and stoic exterior, the scarred man was very caring and protective, as if Kira and Momo weren't proof enough of that.

Renji used his good hand to pull himself higher up in his bed, back propped against stacks of pillows that Momo had placed behind his head for him. He could reel the young girl perched on the foot of his bed, most likely resting against Kira's legs. The two were remarkably close to one another since the Winter War. Renji supposed it was easier for them to relate to each other, much in the same way he did with Hisagi.

Kira hummed under his breath, something he often did when he drifted in thought.

"Oh, holy Aizen in hell, shut the fuck up, Rangiku!" Ikkaku ground out, beating the heel of his hand against his head.

He heard the sharp whoosh of breath escaping the bald man that was usually the result of Yumichika elbowing him in the ribs. The two of them were perched on the couch, Ikkaku unwilling to shuffle onto the bed with the other fukutaichou. Yumichika had objected when the older man pulled him towards the couch, claiming he wanted to be on the bed too.

Despite the inane babbling, the loud objections, the rude remarks and sharp sighs, Renji was happy. He had missed this; all his friends squabbled together in one room. It only really happened when someone (usually Rangiku) announced a bar crawl, and then Hisagi and Momo wouldn't go. He had missed their little quirks that made him want to both laugh and beat his head against the wall. In a good way, of course.

He could all but hear Rangiku's lip quivering at the statement. The words didn't really hurt her, being much tougher than she let on, but she wasn't above milking a situation. Any minute now she would start huffing and get all defensive, so he had to nip this in the bud before it blossomed.

"So, I heard that you and Hisagi-sempai were looking after me, Rangiku," Renji said, shifting his head in the direction of the copper-haired woman.

"We weren't allowed in here till, like three days ago, Ren-chan," she said with a certain note of petulancy.

She leant back against the stack of pillows, stretching her legs out next to Renji's. Kira moved aside to let her slip her feet past before returning to his previous position. She was now mirroring his position, dangerous pout on her lips. Renji cocked his head in what he hoped was a confused gesture, nudging Rangiku with his shoulder for an explanation.

From the opposite side of him, he heard Hisagi sigh and shift in his seat. The older shinigami had pulled up a chair to the right side of Renji's bed so he wouldn't have to raise his voice. Hisagi tended to dislike loud noises, which often made Renji wonder why he had befriended Rangiku and Ikkaku. He could hear those sharp angular eyes of his drift shut as he rested his head against his hand.

"Kuchiki-Taicho was… reluctant to allow us to visit you," Hisagi told him.

He had the kind of voice that, despite how quietly he talked, carried over the room. Renji's tattooed eyebrows furrowed as he pulled himself up a little higher on the bed. Rangiku was doing that shifty thing she often did before she pounced Hitsugaya with a hug attack. Renji was suddenly glad that his arm was broken and firmly between them, considering he didn't fancy suffocating between her breasts.

"Kuchiki-Taicho was the only one allowed in here, Renji," Kira told him, his soft voice catching the redhead's attention.

"But…" _Kuchiki-Taicho said that Matsumoto and Hisagi…_

Renji's eyebrows furrowed further together, despite the fact that Rangiku was trying to smooth the creases from his forehead. His fingers began drumming against the bed, his own little quirk that happened when he was thinking. What reason would his taicho have for lying about something like that? Hell, what reason would the nobleman have for lying, period?

As far as the redhead knew, his taicho had never lied before.

"Kuchiki-Taicho was just being protective, Renji-kun," Momo said, her small voice tinkering like a silver bell.

"He's been here more than Rukia has," Ikkaku added.

"And he did all your paperwork you neglected," Kira inserted.

"He has been insanely protective of you, Ren-chan," Rangiku said conspiratorially.

A squeal came from his left, almost making him cringe. It could belong to no one other than Yumichika, given that was the same squeal he made when reading romance novels.

"Oooh! Do you think he…?"

"Ahem"

The room went quieter than a graveyard in an instant. Beside him, Rangiku began to squirm uncomfortably. He could feel Momo scramble off the bed, accidently pushing Kira off the edge of the bed. The blonde hit the floor with an audible thump, too stunned to do anything but stare. He knew that Yumichika was a hairsbreadth from squealing like a murder victim, and could hear the impressive string of curse words leave Ikkaku's mouth. Hisagi groaned loudly.

And, just as suddenly as the quiet came over, the room cleared faster than Orihime's cooking could. Renji had to marvel at Ikkaku's commitment; the bald shinigami dove out the window behind, likely forgetting about the four story drop below. Everyone else fled out the door his taicho had entered through, and Renji was fairly sure that Yumichika couldn't actually shunpo that fast. It would make Flash Master Yoruichi blush.

A faint breeze gusted in from the window, making the fluttering curtains the only sound in the room. Renji suddenly felt hyper aware of his taicho as the man approached his bedside. His reiatsu was almost fully restrained as he stood by Renji's bedside, making no immediate move to talk. There was something familiar about the suppressed reiatsu his taicho exuded, something comforting and protective in it.

He heard the older shinigami sit quietly in the seat that Hisagi had occupied moments before. Renji shifted his head in his taicho's direction, moving back onto the centre of the bed now that Rangiku was gone.

"Abarai."

Renji almost shuddered at the sound of his voice, deep and silky like velvet on steel. The nobleman had a way of commanding complete authority with just his voice, but it sounded different to him. The soft timbre of his voice lacked the usual strict authority, instead containing something akin to… worry? Renji thought he might have been hearing things. Almost thought he was hearing things.

"How are you?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_I have fun writing Unohana. She's like Captain Mom._

_XxX_

Renji's eyes would have widened considerably if he were able to see, but as he could not, his eyebrows rocketed up. The gesture played a funny trick on the tattoos on his brow, scrunching them up in the small movement. Matsumoto was constantly trying to smooth them out when he did, only stopping when Renji groaned and hid behind Hisagi. His fingers began to drum against the sheets once again, mind whirling to find something – anything – to say to the nobleman.

"I'm… alright, Kuchiki-Taicho. Thanks…"

Renji hesitated and blanked at the same time. What the hell could he say? Thanks for staying by my bedside, no idea you actually saw me as a person, but I'm flattered all the same? That would end his just saved life, and he didn't fancy taking on Senbonzakura again. He had expected Rukia to be the one by his side, and she had up until her deployment. What he did not expect was her brother, his taicho, to take up her mantle at his side.

Rukia must have had something to do with the older man staying close by him, but he still felt an undefinable warm tingling creep up his body.

"… fer askin," he said lamely, rough street accent now evident in his voice.

Renji had tried, all though his Shinigami Academy days, to loose the rough slurring in his voice that he had spoken with all his life. It was a side effect of growing up on the street, and it seemed that Rukia was one of the few immune to it. His attempts were originally in vain, until Rukia sat him down and taught him. But that was before the Kuchiki clan even came into the picture to adopt her, back when Rukia was still nee-chan and Renji was still immature and petulant. And then the Kuchiki clan whisked her away into a life of nobility, leaving Renji all alone once again. If anything, it just made him more determined to loose his rough street accent.

"Ah…ano…how are you, Taicho?" he asked.

He only really reverted back to his street accent when he was stressed or surprised. He usually had much better reign over it, but he was understandably frazzled.

"Well enough," came his curt reply.

Byakuya eyed the redhead fro the seat, carefully cataloguing the changes in his appearance. His flesh had turned to a faint tanned colour from the grey-white it had been, and he could see healthy flush of colour still returning. His vibrant crimson hair was now tied into a long braid, resting over his shoulder and tied with what Byakuya recognised as Hinamori-fukutaichou's ribbon. His crimson bangs fell over the fresh white bandages around his eyes, forehead uncovered.

Byakuya could see the almost healed scar just above his temple, the pale knitted line slowly fading. He traced the scar with his eyes, noting how it curved slightly in towards his eyes before it disappearing behind the bandage. Renji's once pale, almost cyanotic lips were now a healthy pale pink and, to Byakuya's astonishment, sticking out in an almost pout.

His eyes were drawn to those lips, which were fuller than his own, as they desperately tried to form words that died in the redhead's throat. Byakuya's eyes widened considerably as Renji's tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. It looked almost lascivious, the way his pink tongue laved over his pouty bottom lip, sending a crackling bolt of heat down his spine and into his stomach. Byakuya tore his eyes away from the redhead completely, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks, suddenly glad that his fukutaichou was, for all intensive purposes, blind.

When Byakuya did look back to Renji, he focused on the fukutaichou's hands. They were larger than his own and much rougher looking, still drumming against the bed in thought. Byakuya had to still the sudden urge to still them with his own hands, considering how to stop the nervous tick the redhead had. His brow furrowed as he felt that pulling sensation in the back of his mind, the same one that coaxed him into touching Renji while he was comatose.

Byakuya actually found his hand hesitating half way between himself and the prone redhead, before forcibly dragging it back to his side.

"When will you be released?" Byakuya asked.

He had spoken before he was really aware he had, desperate to do anything to stem the urge to touch Renji. The Sixth barracks had been like a ghost town, or perhaps more accurately, a funeral, for the last week. Byakuya had never realised how uneventful it was without the redhead, and how much vibrancy he bought to the other squad members. And in that short amount of time, Byakuya almost, just almost, missed his rowdy fukutaichou.

"As soon as tomorra. Unohana-Taicho says I haveta have full-time care, tho," Renji said quickly.

Renji silently cursed himself for reverting back to street slang in the presence of the nobleman. He was usually somewhat relaxed with the older man; more so now that the nobleman had re-established his relationship with Rukia after the Winter War. And now, the taicho was beginning to make him nervous with the personal questions. It was something eh would have easily passed along to Hisagi or Momo, but for the Kuchiki, it was fairly personal.

Unohana had told him, quite firmly, that she would not release him with the signature of someone who would care for him around the clock. She went further, telling him that if he disobeyed her, she would release him to the Eleventh division, more specifically, into the direct care of one Zaraki Kenpachi. Renji hastily agreed. And made a mental note to ask Isane if her taicho was bi-polar.

"Is there not someone who can care for you, Abarai?" Byakuya asked, confusion evident in his voice.

There were many people who were close to his fukutaichou, so much so that they disobeyed a direct order from him. Surely they would be more than able to care for the injured shinigami.

"Ah, not really, Taicho. Hisagi-sempai has to run his Division, and so does Kira. I don' wanna put more strain on Hinamori-kun either, she's still delicate. Matsumoto has drills this week, thank the Gods, and I refuse to take the standing offer from the Thirteenth division. I want to live," Renji told him, the last part with a shudder.

Byakuya could not blame him for the aversion to the Thirteenth barracks. They were more than a capable division, but not _adequate_ to care for the injured. Byakuya would not wish that on anyone, even his enemies. Besides, his fukutaichou was supposed to be recovering, not accumulating more injuries.

Little did Byakuya know, that was Unohana's current threat.

Byakuya felt a frown forming on his brow, his violet-grey eyes narrowing in thought. The fukutaichou really didn't have anyone to care for him in this state. He was going to ask about his family, in a moment of foolishness, before he remembered that the redhead _had_ no family. He didn't really have much choice other than to remain in the Fourth barracks until he was fit for leave.

And that would be a week at the minimum, and if Byakuya knew anything about his fukutaichou, the man would go insane from boredom. Then he would be as destructive as one of the seated officers from Eleventh. It seemed that it would be a long wait to see his fukutaichou back and in working order.

Byakuya felt a tug of something in the redhead's direction. He felt an odd feeling, something akin to obligation, to see through the redhead's recovery. He had spent the last three days in this room, which could easily be considered the worst of it, so the rest of the recovery phase could be considered easy (_little did Byakuya know, he would both rue and praise that thought_).

Byakuya stopped to mentally weigh the pros and the cons of taking the fukutaichou into his care. After careful examination, the cons heavily outweighed the pros, mostly because of the redhead's personality and his own neurotic schedule-keeping. But then he bought Rukia into the equation, and found that his younger sibling overruled all decisions.

But Rukia was not here, and the young woman could not influence his decision.

"Ah… ano, Taicho?" Renji asked, confusion laced through his voice.

The nobleman had been eerily silent for the last few minutes, and it wasn't helping his frayed nerves. A silent Kuchiki often meant they were plotting something that usually ended with Renji pasted to the floor of the Fourth Barracks while waiting for Hanatarou. And then it ended with him pasted to the floor in Hisagi's apartment to sleep off the alcohol.

Renji was beginning to hate himself, considering he was seriously beginning to ask Yumichika and Ikkaku to release him into the Thirteenth's care.

"You will stay with me, then."

The statement shocked both Renji and Byakuya into a silent stupor. Byakuya had no idea how those words even came out of his mouth. He had originally opened his mouth to wish the redhead a speedy recovery, and remind him that his paperwork would be waiting for him once he regained his sight. He had not intended to offer his home to the fukutaichou, let alone watch over him.

The redhead's mouth gaped a little before he snapped his jaw shut. A small smile slid onto his face, quirking the corners of his lips.

"Aa… thank you, Taicho," Renji said in his husky voice.

Byakuya stood briskly enough to startle Renji even more so than he already was. The redhead nearly launched out of the bed and the heart monitor next to him picked up its pace a little. Byakuya levelled a glare at the prone man, but he was finding it harder than usual to actually muster emotion into the stare. The noble quickly dropped his lacklustre glare, noting how low it was to glare at a blind man, and schooled his features.

"I shall go make arrangements, then," he said, quickly leaving the room.

Byakuya paused outside the redhead's hospital room, sliding the door close behind him. He could see Kotetsu-fukutaichou standing behind the counter to the aid station next to the room, pouring over charts. He leant against the wall and inhaled deeply, tucking away his feelings on how much the redhead actually affected him. He was doing this for Rukia, being overly protective of late to the man, and to cure his aching wrist from doing both their allotted paperwork.

He shook his head and slid over to the counter, preparing to request the paperwork for his fukutaichou's release. Byakuya felt a compulsion he hadn't felt since chasing Rukia into Hueco Mundo, all those months ago. He actually felt something akin to obligation now, forcing him to see through the recovery of the redhead.

But he was only doing this for Rukia.

At least, that's what he told himself.


	11. Chapter 11

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_I hads a cookie but I ated it._

_XxX_

Renji felt a rather overwhelming mixture of nervous and stupid as he stumbled along after his taicho. Just as the Kuchiki nobleman said, he had signed Renji out the next day into his care. Unohana had come by to wish him well, and remind him of his check up in the next few days. Renji had the distinct she was smiling, though he had no idea what about.

He was having serious trouble keeping up with the nobleman as he led Renji towards his home. Between trying to figure out where he was going, keeping up with his taicho and dodging incoming objects, Renji felt like a fish out of water. He was always horrible at the blind training they had in his Academy days. Hisagi had told him he had the skill and grace of a drunken elephant. Kira, on the other hand, was brilliant at blind fighting. The blonde could fight just as well without his sight as he could with it.

Renji seriously hated Kira in that moment.

Renji stumbled on the footpath, reaching for the railing to catch himself. It seemed that the railing was farther away then he expected and he began to topple. A steel-strong yet soft hand wrapped around his bicep to steady him and then steer him out the way on an incoming shinigami. It was fairly obvious who that hand belonged to, and Renji could feel the suppressed reiatsu of his taicho beside him.

What actually surprised him was that hand on his bicep _stayed_ there, leading him towards their destination. He wasn't going to spoil the sensation of that smooth hand on his rough skin, but Renji couldn't help but be amazed by the display. The guiding touch made him move in a little closer to the nobleman, where he found himself walking side by side with the Kuchiki clan head. Kuchiki Byakuya was not the sort of man to walk beside anyone, so the little gesture made Renji's heart leap.

Renji had no idea where they were, but it didn't take a moron to guess where they were going. The Kuchiki home was really more of a mansion or an estate, with extensive gardens and a big stone wall surrounding the grounds. He had only been inside the grounds once, to escort Rukia home after a night of drinking with Matsumoto and Kira. He could only remembered small slivers of the interior, like the expensive silk drapes covering wide windows or the flowering trees in the courtyard.

There was a pond somewhere in the gardens, that much he knew. He had gotten intimately acquainted with the body of water when Rukia insisted they take a shortcut through the gardens. Renji had inadvertently pulled her into the pond when she tried to haul him out, where she promptly clobbered him. It ended up with them laughing loudly in the pond, trying to ignore the koi nibbling their toes.

Renji tugged on the sleeve of his hospital issued yukata, pulling the material over his splinted arm as he tried to get his bearings together. He froze, however, when the guiding hand disappeared from his arm. He felt a vague and completely unnecessary wave of horror and began to blindly grope in the direction of his taicho with his good hand.

A fleeting touch on his good shoulder stilled his scrambling, easily identifiable as the same hand that had been wrapped around his bicep moments before.

"Ohayo, Kuchiki-sama," an unfamiliar voice echoed.

Renji could hear a gate opening, the wrought iron edges squealing as it scraped against the stone wall. The redhead vaguely remembered going through the same gate with Rukia.

He supposed it made it more of an estate than a house.

"We have prepared a guest room on your order, Kuchiki-sama," the voice said again.

"Very good. Lead Abarai-fukutaichou in and to the room," Byakuya ordered.

Renji could feel the older shinigami's reiatsu grow weaker as the sound of his waraji faded. It left him with an odd, empty feeling in his stomach, one that Renji could, not for the life of him, identify. There was something overly comforting about the taicho's reiatsu while Renji was in this state, and he had become so used to it in the last day that he almost felt empty now.

And just like that, Renji found himself completely alone. He must have drifted off into thought and missed his cue to follow the Kuchiki servant. It made an almost painful anxiety blossom through his body and pull at his muscles. Renji tugged at the front of his pale green yukata that Hanatarou had bought him. Dipping his hand inside the front of the yukata, moving between his braced arm and hip, he wrapped his hand around the hilt of his hidden zanpakuto. Unohana had told him quite firmly that eh wasn't allowed to wield a weapon in his state, but he couldn't be without the sword right now.

Besides, Renji was never really one much for rules.

"Abarai-san?"

Renji visibly jumped at the voice, feet actually lifting an inch off the ground. He spun around to where the feminine voice had came from, reaching out violently with his reiatsu. He quickly stopped himself before his reiatsu could inflict damage on the woman, nullifying the deadly edge to it before it met the woman. It just ended with a blast of pressure, one that everyone on the estate would have clearly felt.

Renji felt a wave of shame steel through his body, making his face heat up and his head hang. He had been caught off guard by a servant and had very nearly attempted to kill the woman. His blush spread from his cheeks to colour his whole face when he felt the spike of reiatsu coming from his taicho.

"Sorry," Renji mumbled.

He pulled his reiatsu back down to its normal level slowly as to not alert the Kuchiki noble once again. He felt the responding reiatsu fall back down to a suppressed level, knowing full well he'd have to explain this to the older man.

"It's okay, Abarai-san," the woman said kindly.

She had a pleasant voice with a slight accent, one that Renji could not put his finger on. Her voice was smooth and aged, holding the telltale sounds of wisdom that was older than him. Renji judged that she was older than him and his taicho. He felt her hand, small and soft, touch his arm gently while the other went to the small of his back. She led him in carefully, walking slightly behind the fukutaichou to better judge the path they took.

Renji allowed the woman to lead him up three steps until his feet hit wooden flooring. He could still feel the crisp breeze of the outside air die as she moved away to pull a door open. She returned her hand to his back and gently pushed him over the threshold. Renji could smell a mixture of wood, incense and flowers as he was led down the hall. It felt long and winding, and he could hear the whispers of passersby.

He felt suddenly paranoid that they were whispering about him. He was led around a sharp corner and Renji had wonder if the interior of the house was built like a maze. He couldn't put it past his taicho's sense of humour to do that, or Rukia's for that matter. He stretched out his left hand and let it trail over the walls as he was led around another corner. The hand on his back slowly pulled away and Renji came to a stop.

A door opened on his left, slightly behind him and on the opposite wall. The servant's hand rested on his bicep and gently tugged until he followed her over the threshold of the door. He could tell the room he had been led into was large, just by the echoes his feet made on the wooden flooring. He had to figure that the room was easily as big as his own apartment in Rugonkai as he padded forwards until his feet met a thick rug.

"This will be your room while you're staying here," she told him.

He heard the thunk of the door sliding shut behind them as he shifted. Renji nodded vaguely in her direction and stretched his good arm out in front of him. It was five short steps until his hand connected with the wooden frame of a western bed, clearly from the human world. He followed the footboard around to the side, eyebrows furrowing at its sheer size.

"'s big," he said.

His head bobbed around like he was analysing the décor, but he was carefully pushing his reiatsu out to get the layout of the room. The general layout was fairly uncluttered, almost as if someone had come in and moved the furniture just to accommodate his injury. Renji tapped Zabimaru's hilt and felt the baboon-like chimera shift in his mind, making him grin.

"Thanks," he said, turning back to where he thought the older woman would be.

Renji got the distinct impression that the older woman was smiling.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

He could hear her stepping towards him, overly loud so he would know where she was. She said it in such a way that Renji would have thought that they were old friends. It was similar in tone to how Momo or Kira would ask, caring and concerned at the same time. He didn't ask immediately, instead mulling it over. He had never felt her reiatsu before, and the need to ask was building up.

"…better, thanks… Ah…have we…met?" Renji asked, trying to phrase it politely.

Rukia had often told him that he had a bad habit of saying the first thing that came to mind, usually being crude or offensive or both.

He got the impression she was smiling again.

"No, we haven't. Saki Atsuko," she said, touching his good arm gently as a greeting.

"Abarai Renji," he replied, unsure of how to react to her.

"I know," she said.

And he just _knew_ that her smile got wider then.


	12. Chapter 12

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_Hi ho silver, away ~_

_XxX_

Renji sat on the rich shaggy rug, idly running his fingers through the thick wool. He was three feet from the bed, facing the side, as he listened avidly to Saki Atsuko talk. He knew it had been well over an hour since he was shown into the room by the elderly woman. Atsuko was perched on the side of what was to be his bed, chattering quite happily at the redhead.

As it turned out, Saki Atsuko was Rukia's personal and favourite servant. Rukia treated the woman like a grandmother, and had apparently told her everything about her life, i.e. one Abarai Renji. He quivered at the thought of the older woman knowing all about his life without actually knowing him. But, it was incredibly hard to dislike the elderly woman, as he found with every sentence she spoke. She had a hypnotic charm in her voice that made Renji smile.

"So, how did you recognise me?" Renji asked, curiosity piqued.

It should have been a self answering question, really. Renji had a very distinguished appearance, and was as easily noticeable as Zaraki or his taicho.

"Oh, Rukia-san has described you to me _many_ times, Abarai-san. She also keeps a picture of you on her mantle," Atsuko said happily.

Renji felt a grin tug at his lips. He felt elated that Rukia kept a memorabilia of him, considering he thought that the woman had forgotten his existence after her adoption. The information made Renji lean backwards on his good arm for support, grin now blatantly obvious. He was beginning to regain feeling in his right hand, which Renji took as a very good sign.

The redhead grunted and shifted his position, trying to alleviate the jabbing pain in his side. The shifting just agitated the raw skin on his side, almost making him yelp. With a frown and a grunt, Renji grabbed the hilt of his zanpakuto through the front of his yukata and yanked it out. The action made the front slide open, revealing his toned chest and stark tribal tattoos.

"Freakin baboon," Renji muttered.

As he pulled the sword into his lap, he felt the spirit hiss in his mind. He just knew that the spirit was waiting to make a smart assed remark, but it held its tongue. He bet that Hisagi or Kira didn't have to put up with the cheek he got from his zanpakuto. Lucky for them.

"I thought you were not supposed to have a weapon while recovering," came the stern voice.

Renji froze, a guilt smile working its way onto his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. He cocked his head to the side, messy braid falling over his shoulder. He heard the woman sigh in defeat and his guilty little smile widened into a grin.

"Anyway," she said, regaining his attention, "If you need anything, just call. The bathroom is across the hall, and the night attendant Byakuya-sama has posted nearby should help you if you need it."

Renji nodded and scratched his chest, feeling slightly floored that his taicho had ordered someone nearby for his needs. Her small hands appeared on his shoulders before trailing down to tug his yukata back into place. Most people were put off by his myriad of tattoos and appearance in general, but it seemed that she was not. Mind you, Rukia had probably told her enough embarrassing stories that he now looked like a rather cuddly bunny rabbit instead of a war hero.

"Atsuko-baachan? What was all the whispering earlier?" Renji asked.

He was still feeling paranoid about the amount of chattering of the servants, and he could have sworn he heard his name mentioned as he passed. He had figured that he would have had more visitors by this stage, and the distinct lack or reiatsu nearby was making the mansion seem creepy and deadly silent. At his place, it was always obscenely loud and clattered with people, or vice versa. He usually bunked with Hisagi or Kira, or sometimes, both.

"Ah, you're the latest hot gossip, Abarai-san," she said slyly.

The tone of her voice almost made Renji balk, but he motioned for her to continue.

"Byakuya-sama has _never_ brought anyone home before," she said with a snicker.

Renji paled and then blushed heatedly. Surely she couldn't be suggesting that…?

"Saa… you don't mean that…"

"Oh, of course they don't, Abarai-san. But I know better, don't I?" she hummed.

Renji choked on air, hand flying to his chest. His jaw dropped visibly, and Renji knew that if his eyes were visible, they would be as wide as plates. Zabimaru tumbled out of his lap at Renji's sudden movement, and he could hear the snake-tail howling laughter in his head.

"Wha…ugh…what the fuckery?" Renji spluttered, still in shock.

Surely she wasn't implying that…

"I _know _your past, Abarai-san. I think you'll be good for Byakuya-sama, and I expect you to use your… expertise to prove me correct. I have good money riding on this," she told him.

Renji was so shell-shocked, he only vaguely registered the door sliding open and then shut. Her reiatsu faded as she moved further and further away from the redhead until she was barely a blip in the back of his mind. And as soon as she was far enough away, Zabimaru materialized before its master. Renji was almost pouting, face glowing a red to match his hair from his embarrassment. She wanted him to… seduce Kuchiki-Taicho! And for her own monetary gain, no less.

Renji sat horrified at the idea, ignoring the fact that it was hitting pretty close to home.

The subtle chuckles of the baboon and the outright wails of the snake of his zanpakuto spirit snapped him back to reality.

"She's quite something," the baboon said, deep voice echoing through his head.

Renji grunted in embarrassment and leant his head forwards. He leant his head the side of the spirit and hid his face in the thick bluish-grey fur there. The spirit carefully rearranged itself and sat so Renji could be more comfortable. The snake tail coiled upwards and around the back of Renji's head until it rested near his ear.

"I like her," the snake snickered. "She sure hit the nail right on the head."

A new round of chuckles greeted Renji's ears, and he felt his blush flaring back to life. He set about to vehemently deny the snake's words.

"Like hell she did, snake-face," Renji hissed.

He batted the snake away from his ear with a growl. It unwound itself from behind Renji and instead slithered around his front to curl around his bicep.

"We live in your head, Renji," the baboon piped in. "Believe me when I say you're not entirely adverse to the idea."

"Aren't you supposed to be the reasonable and rational one?" Renji asked, pulling back from the baboon's fur with a frown.

The chimera sighed and the snake unwound itself once again.

"Just jump the man and get it over with! You have enough pent up sexual energy to power a small mid-western city," the snake growled, pointedly nudging Renji's arm.

"Subtle," the baboon said, glancing back at the snake-like tail.

"And Renji's skull is as thick as a lead balloon! And as bright as one! If we don't interfere, I may just kill him before offing _myself!_" the snake hissed to its partner.

"I'm still here, you know," Renji announced

The two were bickering over his love life, or lack thereof, as if he wasn't even there. The dual spirit stopped its shouting match and disappeared in a puff, leaving Renji with the zanpakuto cradled in his lap. He was wondering at their sudden disappearance when a knock sounded from the door. He didn't recognise the weak pulse of reiatsu that came as the door slid open. Renji quickly hid his sword underneath his braced arm.

"Dinner is served, Abarai-san. Kuchiki-sama regrets to inform you that he will be unable to attend tonight," the male voice said.

Renji stood, pointedly ignoring the lack of appearance of his taicho, and rearranged the front of his yukata. He slid his sword into his sash and his it with his heavy braced and bandaged arm. He nodded to the servant and followed the weak pulse of reiatsu out.

"I really hate those two," Renji mumbled to himself.

A pair of snickers echoed though his head.


	13. Chapter 13

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_Caught in a bad romance ~_

_XxX_

It was turning out to be a stereotypical day. Byakuya awoke as the first lights of dawn pierced the open window, painting his room in soft golden light. His tea had cooled to a perfect temperature by the time he entered his private study attached to his room. He hiked his dark blue robe higher over his white yukata to ward off the morning chill before seating himself before his desk. The entire left wall of the room opened up onto the gardens in the middle of the manor, letting in the crisp morning breeze.

The thick sunlight now accumulating was quickly warming up the ground, enough so that Byakuya shucked off his waraji. The relaxing sound of a water fountain graced his ears, and the smell of the violets just in bloom greeted his nose. With a happy, relaxed sigh, he took another gulp of his tea. It's heady aroma and taste was especially appreciated today, considering it was the first time in many days he had gotten to drink it.

Although he had not spent his nights in Renji's hospital room like Rukia had, Byakuya was always there before the sun could fully rise. He spent most of his day on the loveseat there, signing paperwork and deigning assignments to Rikichi. It would have been a pleasant scenic change from his office if it hadn't been for the circumstances. He left the redhead's room well after sunset, after Unohana had come to check on him and offer Byakuya the tea that he never accepted.

Byakuya scratched the back of his neck, trying to recall what work had to be accomplished in the day. Rikichi would be on his way over soon, on strict orders from himself, with his day's paperwork and his fukutaichou's as well. Byakuya intended to keep his eye on the redhead today, and every day until his eyesight returned and he was capable of fending for himself. He would have to rely on Unohana for that information, knowing full well that Renji would bluff his way through the situation.

Byakuya set the freshly emptied cup to the side of his desk and stood, rolling his neck to work the crick out. He meticulously fixed his clothing before leaving the room via the open garden doors. He had arranged the house so that his room and the private guest rooms opened up onto the gardens before him, which were mostly thrown open to air out in the morning breeze. Byakuya strode past his now open bedroom doors and followed the wooden walkway around the garden until he reached his fukutaichou's room.

He had ensured that his red haired fukutaichou received the nicest of the guest rooms, and had the obtrusive pieces of furniture removed for his ease. It must have been hard enough being in a foreign home in such a state without tripping over unnecessary furniture. The room opened up onto the gardens much as his did, and Byakuya figured it would do the fukutaichou some good after being cooped up in the Fourth barracks for so long.

Also, it was a confined yet open space in which the redhead could investigate without actually inspiring Byakuya's worry. The Kuchiki noble resisted the urge to sigh as he entered one of the many hallways that emptied into the gardens. He stopped at the first door on his left and frowned, debating whether to knock or not. Common courtesy dictated that he knocked, but he was master of the house, and he did not knock to enter his own house.

As a compromise, Byakuya knocked on the doorjamb before sliding the door open, not waiting for an answer.

He was greeted by a startlingly empty room. The large bed had very faint crumples in the covers, but nothing to suggest that it had actually been used. It was completely pristine, ignoring the grubby duffle that had been placed next to the foot of the bed. There were only faint, lingering traces of Renji's reiatsu in the room, nothing to suggest he had been in there for the last six hours.

A surge of something unknown to him slammed through his gut, making his breathing pick up. There was no reason for the injured shinigami to leave his room at that hour, and Byakuya could not stop his breathing from picking up. He quickly left the room and hailed down a passing servant.

"Where is Abarai-fukutaichou?" Byakuya asked.

Maybe he was just overacting and the redhead was in the bathroom, or bathing down the hall. He hoped to high heavens that it was one of the above. The servant immediately averted his eyes from the nobleman and bowed to the older man.

"Is he not in his room, Kuchiki-sama?" he asked.

Byakuya felt a frown crawl onto his face while his stomach did a little flip. It should have been a given that the tattooed man was not in his room, given that Byakuya had just exited that very room and asked.

"No, he is not. Find him," Byakuya ordered.

The servant bowed and muttered hastily before scurrying down the hall. It was unlikely that the redhead could have slipped out in the morning without anyone noticing, so that meant that he had disappeared somewhere in the night. Byakuya cursed silently, knowing now that he full well should have not left his fukutaichou in the care of another.

Byakuya all but stormed out the hall and back onto the garden causeway, his bare feet thumping on the polished wood as he none-too-subtly walked. He noted, with a vague detachment, that he was not five feet from the spot he had informed Rukia on the redhead's condition. He tried to segment the rising anger in his nerves, the odd churning of his stomach intensifying. It was not a familiar feeling to Byakuya, so he couldn't quite categorise it. All he knew was that it was making him irritable and moody, and he hated the feeling of it snaking through his muscles from his spine.

Byakuya pulled aside the servants in the area, three in total, and ordered them to alert the rest of the help to the redhead's situation. More specifically, to drop all tasks and find the wayward fukutaichou. Byakuya could only hope that he was still in the estate grounds, hopefully nowhere too far away. The servants scurried off to alert the other help, and to hopefully locate the man.

How hard could a blind, injured man be to find, especially one as loud and rowdy as his fukutaichou? Byakuya continued his way down the walkway, trying to think of a way to locate the redhead. He really couldn't have been stupid enough to leave the Kuchiki state with his body in that condition. At least, that's what Byakuya hoped.

Byakuya ended up doing an entire circuit of the garden before stopping outside the redhead's bedroom once again. The doors had been thrown open so he could see in from the garden's causeway, still revealing no fukutaichou to Byakuya's eyes. He had tried reaching out with his reiatsu, but he could not find any palpable traces of his fukutaichou's. and without any real trace of the man's reiatsu, Byakuya knew that calling up reiraku would be both pointless and unsuccessful.

"Byakuya-sama?"

Said nobleman looked up to find Rukia's favourite serf, an elderly woman by the name of Saki Atsuko, looking up at him. It also registered that he had assigned this woman to care for his fukutaichou. She met his eyes and smiled kindly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She was one of the few who could meet his eyes and not cringe, mostly because she had been in his service for many centuries now.

"Saki, where is Abarai?" Byakuya asked.

The woman's face changed to a thoughtful frown, and Byakuya felt his throat tighten.

"I don't know, Byakuya-sama. I only just got in," she told him.

Byakuya felt his anger bubble tot eh surface, along with his throbbing gut. He had, in no unclear terms, _ordered_ the older woman to care for Renji, and this was the result. He was going to chew them both out when he located the lost shinigami, one that they both would not forget any time soon. Maybe he would saddle all the paperwork for the week with the redhead once his eyes recovered? How dare he, a mere fukutaichou, make Kuchiki Byakuya worry so?

Byakuya froze and paled slightly, the realisation of it all hitting him like something akin to a kido blast. That emotion, the one that had been clawing its way through his being for the last many minutes, was worry. He was genuinely anxious from the disappearance of the redhead, and almost neurotic in the quest of finding the injured man. The only visible trace of his emotions was a slight furrowing of his brows as he dwelled on this new discovery.

Feeling his anger awakening anew, Byakuya let out a lash of sharp reiatsu, sharp enough for anyone with kido training to sense but not strong enough to cause pain to those without. Byakuya felt a pulse in response, clearly belonging to his fukutaichou. He vowed to teach the younger shinigami a painful lesson about taking his good graces and hospitality for granted.

Maybe another Byakurai would solve the problem, it had worked in the past.

"Taicho!"

The door to the hall on his right burst open, revealing the tattooed fukutaichou. He had his good hand gripping the door frame tightly, with Zabimaru wedged firmly between the two in his fist. His braced arm lay limp at his side, but his arched fingers had swirling reiatsu there for a quick kido spell.

Byakuya felt his eyes widen almost comically as he actually took in the appearance of his fukutaichou.

Renji's hair was down from its braid or customary ponytail, falling like liquid fire around his face and broad shoulders. He still had the white bandage around his eyes, creating a startling contrast between his bright hair and stark tattoos. His mouth was open slightly from talking, and hot puffs of breath were escaping from his plump lips.

His torso was bare of his kosode or yukata, revealing the long black tattoos that traced down his chest and back. The sharps bolts of ebony traced down his abdomen, highlighting the thick chords of lethal muscles there. He had several noticeable scars on his chest and stomach, mottling patches of skin and turning it a slightly lighter shade than the rest of his body.

He was clad only in a pair of black hakama from his shihakusho, and they were riding low on his hips. The side gaps in the side of his hakama, which were usually filled in by his white hakama-hino, were bare, revealing his powerful thighs and another bolt of black tattoos. To Byakuya's mind, Renji looked positively obscene with his rumpled appearance and scantily clad body. And because of that, Byakuya could not stop the faint blush that was spreading across his cheeks.

"Where have you been?" the noble asked with a surprisingly calm voice.

There must have been something in his tone, because the fukutaichou visibly relaxed at no evident threat. His hand removed itself from the doorjamb and he let it hang by his side, tapping his sheathed zanpakuto against the bare skin on his thigh. Renji reached up to scratch his nose almost guiltily, which caused his zanpakuto to block his face from view.

"Sleepin', Taicho," Renji replied.

He was back to nervously tapping Zabimaru against the bare skin of his thigh through his hakama. After feeling the sharp stab of reiatsu coming from the taicho, Renji had come barrelling out to the gardens. Because of his blinded state, he was delayed slightly by constantly running into objects, which had knocked the breath out of his lungs.

"You were _not_ in your room," Byakuya said coldly.

He lifted his head to glare at the redhead down the line of his nose, ignoring the futility of glaring at a blind man. Renji could feel his stare as the redhead visibly tensed and bought his uninjured hand up to scratch the back of his neck, zanpakuto and all. A guilty toothy grin worked its way onto his face and he shrugged slightly.

"Aa… well… I kinds… fell asleep in Rukia's room…" Renji finished lamely.

He had only been in the smaller shinigami's room once, when he bought her home months ago, but he knew that smell anywhere. He had grown up with that scent when he slept, so he had followed it the previous evening when slept evaded him. It was much too quiet in the large mansion, and it only added to the cold creepiness of the silent house. Renji had roamed the hallways carefully until the scent had thickened and he reached Rukia's room. He had fallen asleep rather quickly, curled up on her bed with his hand fisted in the covers.

Byakuya scowled again, but it was quickly beginning to loose its motivation. He was beginning to find it actually hard to muster negative feelings for the redhead, and it was irritating him. Byakuya pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, feeling all the anger and irritation drain from his body. His servants were all gathering nearby, just waiting to see their master explode at the fukutaichou.

Renji was still grinning guiltily, and Byakuya sighed once again.

"You will be the death of me."


	14. Chapter 14

**Revamped, redone, rewritten, reposted.**

_I am currently plotting your demise._

_XxX_

That statement seemed to have surprised the Kuchiki family servants as much as it did Renji. The redhead's jaw dropped almost noticeably before his mouth curled into another, wider guilty grin. He dropped his arm to his side and slid Zabimaru's sheath into the sash of his hakama. He reached out with his reiatsu, sending out careful, probing feelers, until he discerned the location of his taicho not ten feet from him.

"Gomen ne, Taicho," Renji said with a chuckle.

Byakuya puffed out another sigh, this one less annoyed and slightly more relieved, and moved his hand to massage his temples. It seemed that Renji really was going to be the death of him.

And yet, somehow, Byakuya could not bring himself to be truly angry at the fukutaichou. The anger leeched out of him along with his irritation until only relief was left. He was debating whether to cuff the redhead on the back of his head, but Unohana would have skinned his hide of the redhead returned more damaged than he already was. And, on a more disturbing note, he couldn't find the mental strength to actually strike the redhead.

He looked to the red haired fukutaichou once again, violet-blue eyes scanning the shinigami's rumpled appearance.

"It's fine, Abarai," Byakuya said

He drew his hand away from his temples and threaded them together in front of his body. He didn't even have to look at his servants to know they were troubled by the nobleman's sudden attitude change. He had been screaming rage before, and now he was calm.

Once again, Renji had gotten under his skin without his knowing.

Renji grinned his fanged grin and chuckled a little.

"Next time you feel like wandering, inform someone," Byakuya said, just to set future requisite.

Renji frowned, eyebrows furrowing and causing his extensive brow tattoos to crinkle. He turned his entire body in the direction of his taicho, only slightly off in his estimation. Renji cocked his head to the side and Byakuya could all but see the cogs turning in his head.

"And what was I supposed to do, write a note?" he asked, voice laced with sarcasm.

Byakuya would have almost been offended if he wasn't so used to it. His tolerance had been lowered significantly by both Renji and, more importantly, Kusosaki Ichigo, whom apparently had no concept of societal respect. Or thinking before speaking. He had that much in common with his fukutaichou.

"Heavens, no. I can barely read your handwriting as it is," Byakuya said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Byakuya could almost feel the servant's eyes on both him and the redhead. There were watching the two like they were a film, and Byakuya knew it was because he wasn't acting like himself. It was hard to resist the juvenile bickering matches that the fukutaichou seemed to inspire in him. There was just something in the way that Renji said things, it almost made Byakuya wonder if the redhead was intentionally trying to get a rise out of him.

"Ouch, low blow," Renji muttered, wincing.

Byakuya rolled his eyes at the redhead, knowing that the redhead would have missed the gesture even if he wasn't temporarily blind.

"We will be taking breakfast in the dining hall," Byakuya announced in the direction of the clustered servants.

The serfs that had initially gathered because of the younger shinigami's outburst scurried away, leaving the garden causeway clear of help bar one. Atsuko stayed motionless, knowing that the noble's announcement did not include her.

"Next time…" it came out as stern and reprimanding, "…tell a servant. That's what they are there for. And Saki, get him cleaned up," Byakuya added.

He strode away with the usual grace of a clan leader, but before he was out of earshot, he heard a distinctive voice.

"Well, gee, there weren't many servants strolling the hallways at midnight!"

_XxX_

"Bloody hell!" Renji exclaimed.

The dining hall that Atsuko had led him into was beyond big. He couldn't see a thing, true, but the echoes of his voice carried through the room and took longer than necessary to get back to him. It must have been bigger than his now-bedroom in the Kuchiki mansion, and possibly rivalling the Sixth's mess hall. He voice carried all the way to the only other open door in the room, connecting to what he assumed was another maze-like hall.

Renji had quickly cleaned up over a basin and changed into an old yukata that Atsuko had given him. Apparently, Hisagi had dropped by a duffle of things from his apartment in Rugonkai and left them with the older woman. Renji really hoped that they made a 'best sempai ever' card at hallmark. Hisagi would probably have been unimpressed with it, even if they did.

"Atsuko-baachan, how big is this place?" Renji asked.

He felt lost even in the dining room, and that came as a surprise to him. Not having his eyesight was actually affecting him worse than he let on. He would never admit, especially in front of his taicho, that he was constantly jumpy and scared. The last thing he could remember before he woke up in Fourth barracks was teeth. Huge, pointed teeth and sickle-like claws and _screaming pain_.

Right now, he wanted nothing more than to high-tail it to Hisagi's apartment and hide in the fukutaichou's futon until his eyes were better. He knew Hisagi's apartment better than his own, and Kira knew it better than Renji did. The sheer size of this mansion he was in was mind boggling, and the vast expanses of sightless space made him twitch.

"Maybe thirty people can sit comfortably," she told him.

She was fussily rearranging the front of Renji's yukata once again. She had been babying him since he refused her help in getting dressed and came out wearing the particular patterned yukata he recognised. It was a cream coloured material with pink petals encroaching up the hems and over the shoulders. Kira had picked it out for him decades ago, informing him that real men wore pink. Yumichika had promptly agreed, and then promptly tried to get him out of it.

"Crapsticks!" Renji exclaimed.

He had learnt to curb his language long ago, unless he was overly stressed. Whenever he did occasionally slip up, Hisagi or Kira were more than happy to smack him upside the head for his vulgarity. Hence, it was a trait that he quickly grew out of. He was also sure that he had a permanent impression of Kira's hand on the left side of his skull.

"You really had us worried there, Abarai-san," Atsuko said quietly.

Renji could feel her eyes on him and began to fidget with the hem of his sleeve. She slapped his hand lightly as a reminder not to fidget, and Renji suddenly felt like he was with Matsumoto for a moment. Instead of playing with the fraying hem, he placed his hand on his hip and swivelled his head like he was looking around the room.

"Saa, gomen ne, baachan. Didn't meanta' make ya worry," he said, flashing his best disarming smile.

Nobody could resist his crooked smile. Well, except maybe Rukia. And his taicho. And Hisagi, Kira, Matsumoto, Ikkaku, Ichigo… well, no one who he didn't know personally could not resist his crooked smile. Except Yumichika; the older shinigami just squealed and tried to hug him.

"It's not me you should be apologizing to, Abarai-san. Byakuya-sama was frantic when he found you gone," she told him.

"Kuchiki-Taicho… was the one…?"

Renji was so puzzled he couldn't finish his sentence. Yes, it had surprised him that the older shinigami had invited him into his home, but he never really expected the taicho to take active interest in his care. He honestly expected the older man to have his servants attend to him, which they had since they crossed the gate into the estate. He hadn't even interacted with Byakuya since they arrived, so this was all coming as a rather big surprise to him.

"Yes, the poor man almost had an anxiety attack when he couldn't find you. He kept lapping the gardens, tearing apart any little trace of your reiatsu he could find. It was all really quite endearing," Atsuko told him.

Renji's whole face screwed up in thought as he tried to search for the correct words to voice his opinion. It was almost like his brain could not comprehend that his taicho, the cold and frightening son of a bitch Kuchiki Byakuya, had been the first one to check in on him. He had flown into a worried rage and ordered every servant in the vicinity to search for him.

Renji felt a warmth blossom in his chest and spread through his limbs. It was terrifying to not be able to see, to not know where you are or who you're talking to. The last thing he saw was his own blood flowing from his body, and the last thing he felt was growing terror. But this, Renji could feel some of that tension slowly slipping away from his consciousness.

A blush began to stain his cheeks, so he turned his head and shielded his expression beneath his long red hair. Atsuko gently touched his good arm, still balanced on his hip, before withdrawing her hand. The sound of hurrying footsteps towards him made Renji grip the hilt of his zanpakuto. The footsteps slowed and stopped just before him, where he could sense the reiatsu of a younger and much smaller shinigami.

The rustling of fabric told him that the smaller person had bowed to him.

"Abarai-san? Breakfast will now be served," a female voice told him.

Renji felt the reiatsu of his taicho enter the room, still suppressed but having a biting edge to it. The feeling didn't really put off too many alarm bells in his head, knowing that the Kuchiki clan head was irritated. And spending so much time with Ichigo made strong reiatsu loose its crushing edge. Renji felt the wizened hand of Atsuko settle on his arm and lead him further into the room, to where Kuchiki Byakuya was waiting.


	15. Author's Note!

**Bewaaare!**

_Author's note:_

I have some great news for you! I went back over Rosa just to see where I was at, and I couldn't help but wonder; what the hell was I thinking? Not so much thinking, but I left out a lot of plot.

I originally wrote this story about two years ago, maybe the first 10 chapters at once excluding touch-ups. I just really wanted a drama-romance with Byakuya and Renji, and what better way to evolve my writing skills than by writing Bleach romance.

I now have a plot. I have rewritten the entire fourteen chapters. Fear not, I haven't changed much of the story at all. I've just elaborated more on the situations, added a little more dialogue and prelude-to-fluff scenes for Byakuya and Renji.

This is the Rosa Revamp project!

I am currently writing the fifteenth chapter as we speak, and this should be uploaded within the week.

Please, go back to the first chapter and tell me what you think of the new and improved _Rosa Rubicondior, Lilio Candidior_.

When Chapter 15 is written, this note will be deleted and Rosa 15 will be uploaded within 24 hours of this note's sudden and timely demise.

Hope you enjoy, Kittens!

Shiny

XOXOXO


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