"Close your eyes," Byakuya instructed Orihime; she obediently shut them and waited patiently. He was not entirely sure how to accomplish a transfer from her inner world to his, but figured he would try the usual way, first.
He arranged himself into the appropriate meditative position customarily used by all shinigami to enter jinzen, the state of mind needed to penetrate one's own inner world. He calmed his mind, settled his thoughts, focused on Zenbonzakura, and felt his consciousness slip sideways as Orihime's bright meadow faded, growing darker, as if twilight had come upon it swiftly. The world turned into a realm painted in azure and cerulean, then sapphire and cobalt, before settling into a velvety indigo, spangled with stars.
They were still seated beneath a tree, but instead of under a tall aspen in Orihime's meadow, they were in the exquisite formal garden that comprised Byakuya's inner world beneath a Japanese maple with leaves of scarlet. Seeing their color was no challenge, as despite the darkness, the moon was huge and bright, and stone lanterns had been placed strategically to illuminate the area. The daffodils had been replaced with carefully sculptured shrubbery and trees, with a narrow stone footpath winding throughout. Not far away, the little pond reflected the moon in a wavering silver ribbon that coursed below the half-circle of a bridge arching over the pond's span. The far side of the pond featured a tiny, exquisite jewel of a tea house, its perfectly balanced design and symmetry always a balm to Byakuya after the riotous chaos of the real world.
He gazed around at it in wonder, as he did every time he entered his inner world. He felt... full, as if his skin were bulging outward from being overstuffed, and realized that it was the result of Orihime's soul residing within his own. An inner world was meant to house only two: a person and his zanpakutou. There was no room alloted for visitors, and the effect was of being forced into clothes that were far, far too small. His chagrin at entering her inner world without permission grew.
Beside him, Orihime gasped. "Oh..." she breathed. "This is..." It didn't seem she could decide on what to look at first, her eyes flying from the pond to the bridge to the lanterns to the tea house to the trees. When she looked back at him at last, she said, "Is it true that inner worlds are a reflection of their owner's soul?"
He nodded, but a thread of apprehension coiled in his belly. "Their owner's, and their zanpakutou's."
"Then, Byakuya, you're very beautiful." Her smile seemed to glow brighter than the moon. Then she waved to some invisible creature somewhere only she could imagine it being. "Oh, and you too, Senbonzakura, if you can hear me!"
Byakuya could feel Senbonzakura's delight in the compliment. It burned almost as fiercely as his own. He was, of course, aware of his physical appearance; his mother had been renowned for her great beauty, and his father had been a handsome man; by all accounts, Byakuya was nearly his father's mirror image. He had had no control over his looks, but had been judged by them and treated accordingly the entirety of his life. By this point, he discounted them as entirely worthless, contributing nothing to his honor, his pride, his strength, or his accomplishments.
But this... Orihime's admiration for the beauty of his soul-- not his face and form, not for his wealth or what his power could do for her-- this was a true tribute, and it humbled him. It was the first time in his life he had revealed such a tender inner working of himself and the gesture had been met with heartfelt approval. After a lifetime of strict rules, of clan elders invariably demanding more and better, of offering himself to Hisana and being gently, kindly, sweetly rejected.
Orihime saw him.
She saw him, naked and shivering before her, and she found beauty there.
Such was his his relief, such was his gratitude and pleasure, that he did something he had not done in years. In decades, in over a century, in fact.
He smiled.
Orihime turned back to Byakuya, and found him... smiling at her. Smiling. Byakuya.
It was a thing of glory.
It was nowhere near Renji's wide, reckless grin; it bore no resemblance to Uryuu's faint upturn of a smirk. It was a modest smile, hesitant, a little shy, and Orihime felt like she was approaching a wild animal, like a sudden move would scare it away.
Oh, if she hadn't already been in love with him... this would have sealed the deal. As it was, Orihime's heart felt near to bursting. She clasped her hands together over it to keep it from leaping out of her chest and flying toward him. She wanted to go to him, to kiss that smile, to touch his face and wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head on his chest and listen to him breathe.
She knew she could do none of that, not one thing of it. Because she also knew, now, that he loved her too, or something very close to it, and he would let her. And once they had declared themselves to each other, he would want to be with her, probably in a really public way that they couldn't hide from the Kuchiki elders, who would then depose him as head of the clan.
And that would humiliate him beyond bearing. He had been reared to think of nothing but his family for the entirety of his life; even more than his vocation as a soldier and captain of the Gotei 13, it was his reason for being. The shame of being stripped of his title and duties would crush him in a way that Orihime could not bear to be the catalyst for.
She had to protect him. She had to think of his well-being, had to put him first, since no one else did and he deserved it, he'd earned it with his two centuries of duty and dedication and honesty and obedience and devotion and loyalty.
But then that glorious smile faded.
"Why are you crying?" he asked quietly. His hand came up to cup her face, and his thumb swept the teardrops away.
Orihime rubbed her cheek into his palm in a kittenish motion, pressing his hand to her face with her own for just the briefest moment before stepping away to turn in a circle, her gaze directed skyward once more, following the moon.
"I'm not crying!" she said with a hard sniffle, swiping her sleeve over her cheeks to mop them dry, and forced a ditzy smile to her lips. "You just surprised me! I was beginning to wonder if you maybe didn't have any teeth, and that was why you never smile."
She hazarded a glance back at him; he was doing that tiny half-smile thing he did when he was amused in spite of himself. "Is it always nighttime here?" At his nod, she commented, "It's lovely. I never saw so many stars... where does the path lead?"
"Around the pond, past the tea house, around the far side of the pond, and back here. It is not a large circuit." For the first time, Byakuya felt that perhaps its modest size, which he'd always attributed to an appropriate level of the restraint that ruled him, was more an indication that he'd unnecessarily limited himself to a smaller life than he'd had to. He hearkened back to his daily routine, which hardly every varied: work, dinner, family business. Sleep. The occasional clan meeting. The odd attempt by power-hungry madmen to overtake Soul Society (now that he put some thought into it, he had to say that Aizen's war had, at the very least, livened up what he now had to admit was a damnably dull existence).
No one had done that to him. No one had put his life on a leash and forced him to play by the rules. He had done that to himself. He had been a hellion, in his youth, hot-tempered and passionate, and he'd let the elders and their expectations choke it out of him until he was left with an inner world that might be exquisite, but it was small, and dark, and he had a sudden, shocking sensation of claustrophobia. In the back of his consciousness, he could feel Senbonzakura's alarm.
"Let's return to your inner world," he found himself saying.
Orihime blinked in surprise. "Really? You'd rather go somewhere so open and, and uncivilized and wild and bright? Because..." she looked around at the stifling perfection surrounding them, not seeing the cage that it had become for him.
"Yes," he said firmly. "I'd rather go there."
"Okay," she said, clearly dubious, but she plonked herself on the ground to enter jinzen and return them to her daffodils and rolling hills.
Byakuya shut his eyes, and the air was turning from the sultry night-blooming jasmine of his own inner world to the sunshiny green freshness of hers when he felt a jolt. Now Senbonzakura's alarm, unabated since Byakuya's declaration of wanting to leave, was joined by Orihime's as she realized that he was being pulled away. Byakuya sent a thought to Senbonzakura to remain calm, intended on telling Orihime not to worry...
Then he was blinking up into Rukia's concerned face as she shook his shoulder. "Nii-sama!" she exclaimed. "Are you alright? You wouldn't wake up!" Carefully, she detached his grip on Orihime's hand-- when had he transferred his grasp from her wrist?-- and knelt before him, anxiously searching his face for explanation. Byakuya looked past her to find his lieutenant, a dark-haired girl, and Kurosaki Ichigo standing in the doorway behind her. They were all wearing very brief, casual clothes and looked a little rumpled and sunburnt.
"I'm sorry it took more than an hour, they were at the beach and it took me a while to find them." Rukia shot a death-glare over her shoulder at Renji. "And that idiot, instead of making them come here right away, decided to play volleyball with them instead." Renji had the grace to look sheepish.
"It was only one game," he mumbled, coming forward to kneel beside Rukia. "You okay, Taichou? Is Orihime-chan alright?"
"She is fine," Byakuya replied automatically, his mind still reeling from its abrupt departure from their inner worlds. He felt a sense of loss that was hard to even countenance, let alone resign one's self to. "She has been training hard with her zanpakutou and was not aware of the extent of her illness, which we think is why her reiatsu is not replenishing as it ought. She said she would cease the training so we could heal her more efficiently."
A prolonged silence had him forcing his thoughts to clear; when he focused on them, he saw they were all staring at him.
"I was able to communicate with her while I was in jinzen." He did not wish to reveal that he had entered her inner world, nor she his. It was a privacy he wanted to keep for himself, and for Orihime.
"You were donating for at least two hours," Rukia said slowly. "Are you sure you're not too depleted yourself, Nii-sama?"
Truth be told, he was feeling somewhat unsteady, and more than a little tired. How dear of Rukia to be so concerned. He touched his fingertips to her hand to reassure her. "It is nothing a good dinner and an early night will not cure," Byakuya replied, and was gratified when she brightened and smiled in relief. He shifted his gaze to Ichigo.
"You have been instructed on how to donate?" Knowledge of Orihime's former affection for the boy, and how deeply his oblivion of it had cut her when that affection went unrequited, had Byakuya speak a bit more coolly than he might otherwise have done.
Ichigo narrowed his eyes at Byakuya's chilly tone. "Yeah," he replied curtly, unfolding his arms and straightening from his slouch at the door. His brow, always creased in a perpetual scowl, frowned deeper when he knelt at Orihime's side and studied her wan face. He wrapped his long fingers around her wrist, shut his eyes, and his shoulders relaxed as he began to descend into her soul.
Byakuya knew the precise moment the other man encountered the ocean of love that dwelled within Orihime; Ichigo didn't speak, but he threw back his head and gasped, a breath hissing past lips parted in shock.
"What was that?" the strange girl said. She was slim-built, rangy and athletic, with unruly dark hair falling almost to her waist. Her eyes were fierce and black, and her hands were clenched into deadly-looking little fists at her sides.
"It was just Ichigo making contact with Orihime-chan's soul, Tatsuki-chan," murmured Rukia, confirming Byakuya's suspicion of the girl's identity. "The beauty of Orihime's soul is... very profound. The power of it can be surprising."
Tatsuki knelt by Ichigo, fists now resting on her knees as she stared at Orihime. "Renji didn't say how Orihime exhausted herself. I bet it was doing more than she should because she couldn't say no. Am I right?" Those black eyes were piercing as they fixed on Rukia. "Why do you look all shifty and dishonest now, Rukia? What's going on?"
Byakuya frowned and studied his sister; she did look shifty and dishonest. "Rukia."
Her eyes, that odd shade of dark blue that was almost violet, were huge and worried as they met his. "It's... it's not something I can share with anyone."
"Does it have to do with that day we came home and found you both crying your eyes out?" asked Renji, looking annoyed but helpless when she nodded in response.
"Orihime-san said she could not reveal your private matter," Byakuya said, "and now you are saying you cannot reveal hers." He knew he sounded irritated, and that was because he was irritated. He did not like secrets being kept from him, and when it was something that made his sister weep, and caused Orihime to work herself into a near-coma...
"Please, Nii-sama," Rukia whispered, twisting the hem of her kosode into mangled knots in her dismay. "If Orihime-chan hasn't told her, I can't break her confidence. I'm not even sure she knows I know. In fact, I'm pretty sure she doesn't. It's something she's keeping to herself, right now, and if that's how she wants it... it would not be honorable to break her confidence."
"Even if it gets her as sick as this?" Tatsuki demanded. "She could have wrecked her abilities! Become a, whatsit, non-shinigami person--"
"Plus soul," Byakuya murmured.
"--Yeah, that," she continued angrily, "and that would have made her really upset!"
"The repercussions of her... secret... being known would have been more upsetting to her!" Rukia snapped back, her own tone growing so frosty that Byakuya felt a pang of pride at how haughty she sounded. "You do not know the full extent of how things are done here, or the obligations we are under! Do not presume to understand how a matter might have been handled better!"
"Shut up, both of you, or get the fuck out," Ichigo growled, eyes still shut tight. "This shit isn't easy, and if I slip because you distracted me, I could hurt her."
Both women immediately clapped their mouths shut and sat back, chastened.
Equilibrium had returned to Byakuya, and loath as he was to part from Orihime, he knew he had to eat and rest in order to restore himself to full strength again, for he fully intended to donate to her again the next day. As he stood, leg muscles protesting from sitting in the same position for so long, Rukia made a sound of impatience.
"Ichigo, you forgot about Urahara-san's... thingy."
Any 'thingy' of Urahara Kisuke's was worrysome at best, and outright dangerous at worst. Byakuya turned back with an imperious eyebrow aloft.
"Urahara-san gave us a device that he said would help Orihime-chan's reiatsu recover much more quickly," Rukia explained with haste, and held up a chunky, tasteless gold ring. "He promised it wouldn't hurt her in the least, and that after three days of people wearing it while donating, she would be awake and as healthy as if she's been resting for a month."
Rukia plunked the ugly ring in Tatsuki's outstretched free hand; she jammed it on his middle finger, forcing it past his bony knuckle until it was seated properly; he carefully switched hands so there was no gap between Orihime's receipt of his reiatsu. The ring flared once, the black light that Byakuya recognized as Ichigo's particular power signature flashing briefly before winking out.
"Huh," said Ichigo, "I don't feel a thing."
"Urahara-san said you wouldn't, didn't he?" Rukia asked with a hint of acid. "Well, Unohana-taichou said we can only donate for an hour at a time. My apologies again, Nii-sama, for our tardiness in returning. You should not have gone for two hours." She sketched a shallow bow at Byakuya, who acknowledged it with a nod of forgiveness. "So after Ichigo is done, Renji can go."
"After a little rest, maybe some food, I can go again in a few hours," Ichigo said. "I've got plenty, haven't used it in ages."
"Those Vaizard people said they would come donate, too," added Tatsuki, "and that seemed like a sacrifice to them."
"It is," Renji told her. "More than you know."
"I will start rounding up others who will donate as well," said Rukia. "I'll hit Tenth Division first, then maybe the Thirteenth--"
"Hanatarou," muttered Ichigo.
"Ah, yes, he'll certainly want to donate," Rukia agreed, "then... well, I'll just go to all of them, I guess. Nii-sama, I ordered dinner for you at your convenience."
So thoughtful. He was fortunate to have such a sister. "I will go eat while it is hot, then," he said, and left the room.
His meal, taken alone in the dining chamber, was a nourishing but flavorless affair. Byakuya tasted none of it, his mind preoccupied with Rukia's refusal to discuss whatever it was that had her and Orihime so distraught. Priorities, he reminded himself, leaving the table for his bedroom. After this crisis was averted, there would be time to investigate and solve whatever problem they faced.