cashew (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} cashew) wrote,@ 2006-02-23 19:19:00 |
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Bleach fic: Mine
Title: Mine
Author: Me
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Byakuya, Ukitake cameo
Summary: Small insight to Child!Byakuya.
Author's notes: First Bleach fic. Voices may sound a little weird.
===
Byakuya stared into the mirror. His image stared back.
He was dressed in formal clothing, a silk kimono overlaid by a haori that was tied with the traditional white haori-himo. About his waist a similarly white obi tucked under the himo of his hakama. His feet were encased in cotton tabi, bleached until the fabric had shone with ivory light.
And atop his head was a heavy kenseikan, splitting his hair into three perfect divisions, representing the other three noble houses he will one day learn to lead. Or so his mother says.
Byakuya just wanted to remove the porcelain that weighed down his head.
“It’s heavy,” he complained, his hands already reaching up to remove the offending accessory.
Mid-rise, his hand was snatched and placed gently to his side, his mother’s voice chiding, “Byakuya, you mustn’t remove it.”
“Why?” The festival had been over. He’d been paraded across the court, greeting and meeting other nobles and strained to keep the thing in his hair balanced while he bowed with a stiff neck. His entire body was sore from the rigid tension, his spine feeling as though it was about to snap in two from standing straight for hours on end. All he wanted was to change into a light yukata, let his hair flow in the wind, and sprawl in the gardens as the summer heat rolled over him.
“It is a sign of your nobility,” his mother was explaining, running her fingers through free flowing tresses at the nape of his neck. “It is your burden to carry.”
He wanted to say that it was cumbersome, restrictive, too much pressure on his head that even his shoulders were feeling it. Instead he merely uttered, “I can’t move well.”
“Then you will learn how to,” his mother responded plainly. Removing her hand from his hair, she guided him to the open shoji screen and told him, “Entertain yourself, Byakuya. Remember, do not remove the kenseikan.”
“Hai.”
Slipping his feet carefully into the wooden geta, Byakuya made his way down the rock-lined path to the Kuchiki gardens, mindful to keep in the center and avoid catching the sleeves of the silk kimono on the short brushes.
~*~
There was a medium sized koi pond at the western corner of the gardens that Byakuya was particularly fond of. The surrounding bamboo hid the pond from view off the main path and the mix of ferns and pines cast the water in a soothing green light. Sometimes, when the day was slow and father and mother were extremely busy, he would come stand by the pond and stare for hours at the fish frolicking in the jade waters, gliding silently and gracefully, sometimes moving faster than the eye can see.
Today, another person was already standing by the pond when Byakuya had arrived, still walking slowly under the heat, careful not to dislodge the porcelain headpiece.
Byakuya stared at the strange person, his mind trying to remember the deluge of new faces he’d met during the festival.
“Ukitake…dono,” he finally greeted, the uniquely white hair contrasting to the young face standing out in his memory from the masses. Stiffly, he bowed, feeling the muscles in his neck protesting against the movement.
“Byakuya-bochama,” Ukitake responded with a warm smile and bowed, his hair unfettered by headdresses flowed down like liquid silver to frame his face.
Byakuya was silently jealous.
“Why are you here?”
He hadn’t meant to be brusque with Ukitake. However, this was the Kuchiki garden and the pond was his, Byakuya’s, personal sanctuary, away from the prying eyes and exasperating expectations. The heavy weight of the kenseikan and restricting bite of the stiff obi in addition to the long day of walking endless precise steps had made him irritable. Then, to find another person invading his pond, Byakuya felt the snap of the last thread of civility.
Instead of becoming offended, Ukitake merely chuckled as if amused.
“The pond is a good place to escape the heat,” Ukitake explained. “The water absorbs the sun’s rays and helps to cool the air in its vicinity. The temperature difference causes currents to form and help dissipate excess heat.”
As if to emphasize his point, a gentle breeze blew by, ruffling his silver hair and making the strands dance across his face, forming a gossamer curtain.
Byakuya looked into the pond as he stood precisely at the edge, the breeze stirring the three divided bangs but did not penetrate the heavy haori. Then, gaze still locked on the waters but addressing Ukitake, he conceded, “You are knowledgeable in odd trivialities.”
“And you, Byakuya-bochama, are very precocious for a child who is just of age for his first presentation,” Ukitake teased with a soft laugh.
“I am well educated,” Byakuya defended himself as he unconsciously let loose his reiatsu.
Ukitake began coughing immediately. Startled, Byakuya quickly reined himself in, focusing on the calming movements of the fish darting in the pond and emptying his mind.
As the coughing sounds died down, Byakuya offered a stilted apology.
“It’s nothing. My illness takes hold at times,” Ukitake assured the young aristocrat. Then he advised, “You shouldn’t take teasing so seriously, you’re too young to be so burdened.”
“It is my burden to carry,” Byakuya repeated listlessly.
Ukitake raised a brow at the response, but as Byakuya continued to stare into the depth of the pond, he nodded in consent.
“True,” he agreed, “all the more reason not to carry more than necessary.”
Then, with a quick step, he approached the young aristocrat and tugged the haori-himo loose. With deft hands, he pealed off the heavy layer of fabric from Byakuya’s small shoulders, airing out the sweat-soaked kimono underneath.
“That feels more comfortable, na?” He asked as he handed the precisely folded haori back to Byakuya.
Stunned at the speed, Byakuya stared mutely at the proffered clothing. Finally regaining some of his senses, he took the material from Ukitake’s hands and nodded his answer.
“Ah, it’s getting late,” Ukitake sighed as he looked to the sky, though the sun was still high. “I’ll see you again, ne?”
“See you again, Ukitake-dono,” Byakuya responded in kind. Then, as Ukitake turned away and walked down the stone paved path, Byakuya bowed deeply to the departing shadow, no longer worried about the heavy ornament on his head.
The kenseikan stayed in place.
Title: Mine
Author: Me
Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Byakuya, Ukitake cameo
Summary: Small insight to Child!Byakuya.
Author's notes: First Bleach fic. Voices may sound a little weird.
===
Byakuya stared into the mirror. His image stared back.
He was dressed in formal clothing, a silk kimono overlaid by a haori that was tied with the traditional white haori-himo. About his waist a similarly white obi tucked under the himo of his hakama. His feet were encased in cotton tabi, bleached until the fabric had shone with ivory light.
And atop his head was a heavy kenseikan, splitting his hair into three perfect divisions, representing the other three noble houses he will one day learn to lead. Or so his mother says.
Byakuya just wanted to remove the porcelain that weighed down his head.
“It’s heavy,” he complained, his hands already reaching up to remove the offending accessory.
Mid-rise, his hand was snatched and placed gently to his side, his mother’s voice chiding, “Byakuya, you mustn’t remove it.”
“Why?” The festival had been over. He’d been paraded across the court, greeting and meeting other nobles and strained to keep the thing in his hair balanced while he bowed with a stiff neck. His entire body was sore from the rigid tension, his spine feeling as though it was about to snap in two from standing straight for hours on end. All he wanted was to change into a light yukata, let his hair flow in the wind, and sprawl in the gardens as the summer heat rolled over him.
“It is a sign of your nobility,” his mother was explaining, running her fingers through free flowing tresses at the nape of his neck. “It is your burden to carry.”
He wanted to say that it was cumbersome, restrictive, too much pressure on his head that even his shoulders were feeling it. Instead he merely uttered, “I can’t move well.”
“Then you will learn how to,” his mother responded plainly. Removing her hand from his hair, she guided him to the open shoji screen and told him, “Entertain yourself, Byakuya. Remember, do not remove the kenseikan.”
“Hai.”
Slipping his feet carefully into the wooden geta, Byakuya made his way down the rock-lined path to the Kuchiki gardens, mindful to keep in the center and avoid catching the sleeves of the silk kimono on the short brushes.
There was a medium sized koi pond at the western corner of the gardens that Byakuya was particularly fond of. The surrounding bamboo hid the pond from view off the main path and the mix of ferns and pines cast the water in a soothing green light. Sometimes, when the day was slow and father and mother were extremely busy, he would come stand by the pond and stare for hours at the fish frolicking in the jade waters, gliding silently and gracefully, sometimes moving faster than the eye can see.
Today, another person was already standing by the pond when Byakuya had arrived, still walking slowly under the heat, careful not to dislodge the porcelain headpiece.
Byakuya stared at the strange person, his mind trying to remember the deluge of new faces he’d met during the festival.
“Ukitake…dono,” he finally greeted, the uniquely white hair contrasting to the young face standing out in his memory from the masses. Stiffly, he bowed, feeling the muscles in his neck protesting against the movement.
“Byakuya-bochama,” Ukitake responded with a warm smile and bowed, his hair unfettered by headdresses flowed down like liquid silver to frame his face.
Byakuya was silently jealous.
“Why are you here?”
He hadn’t meant to be brusque with Ukitake. However, this was the Kuchiki garden and the pond was his, Byakuya’s, personal sanctuary, away from the prying eyes and exasperating expectations. The heavy weight of the kenseikan and restricting bite of the stiff obi in addition to the long day of walking endless precise steps had made him irritable. Then, to find another person invading his pond, Byakuya felt the snap of the last thread of civility.
Instead of becoming offended, Ukitake merely chuckled as if amused.
“The pond is a good place to escape the heat,” Ukitake explained. “The water absorbs the sun’s rays and helps to cool the air in its vicinity. The temperature difference causes currents to form and help dissipate excess heat.”
As if to emphasize his point, a gentle breeze blew by, ruffling his silver hair and making the strands dance across his face, forming a gossamer curtain.
Byakuya looked into the pond as he stood precisely at the edge, the breeze stirring the three divided bangs but did not penetrate the heavy haori. Then, gaze still locked on the waters but addressing Ukitake, he conceded, “You are knowledgeable in odd trivialities.”
“And you, Byakuya-bochama, are very precocious for a child who is just of age for his first presentation,” Ukitake teased with a soft laugh.
“I am well educated,” Byakuya defended himself as he unconsciously let loose his reiatsu.
Ukitake began coughing immediately. Startled, Byakuya quickly reined himself in, focusing on the calming movements of the fish darting in the pond and emptying his mind.
As the coughing sounds died down, Byakuya offered a stilted apology.
“It’s nothing. My illness takes hold at times,” Ukitake assured the young aristocrat. Then he advised, “You shouldn’t take teasing so seriously, you’re too young to be so burdened.”
“It is my burden to carry,” Byakuya repeated listlessly.
Ukitake raised a brow at the response, but as Byakuya continued to stare into the depth of the pond, he nodded in consent.
“True,” he agreed, “all the more reason not to carry more than necessary.”
Then, with a quick step, he approached the young aristocrat and tugged the haori-himo loose. With deft hands, he pealed off the heavy layer of fabric from Byakuya’s small shoulders, airing out the sweat-soaked kimono underneath.
“That feels more comfortable, na?” He asked as he handed the precisely folded haori back to Byakuya.
Stunned at the speed, Byakuya stared mutely at the proffered clothing. Finally regaining some of his senses, he took the material from Ukitake’s hands and nodded his answer.
“Ah, it’s getting late,” Ukitake sighed as he looked to the sky, though the sun was still high. “I’ll see you again, ne?”
“See you again, Ukitake-dono,” Byakuya responded in kind. Then, as Ukitake turned away and walked down the stone paved path, Byakuya bowed deeply to the departing shadow, no longer worried about the heavy ornament on his head.
The kenseikan stayed in place.