AN: Oh my. Am I... Am I updating? Bet you thought after three years, I'd be gone for good right? Nope, just hit the WORST writer's block of all time. Plus, graduating college (among other things). I'd like to say I'm back and better than ever, but I'd hate to disappoint you. Let's just say I'm not quitting my stories (well, at least not this one or utter chaos) and eventually I'll post again. Well, for those of you still out there anyway. ...ARE any of you still out there? -whimper- Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter! I've had half of it done forever and finally managed to push past the last half today. Love all you guys!

I wondered what would ever occur—or really, how the looming apocalypse would destroy the Seireitei—if it was ever to be discovered how much I absolutely loathed Council meetings. There are benefits and respect about being a noble, especially of the esteemed Kuchiki clan, but sometimes I find myself wondering if it was just the members of the clan who did not get those benefits who decided to set up the Council, just to add to their nonexistent importance. Over the years, the heir apparent had also been dragged into the entangled mess and it became something of a puffed up fad amongst the noble clans. Those on the Council considered themselves quite prominent and frequently engaged in political scheming with their brethren and opposing councils. Occasionally, someone with minimal amounts of sense actually became involved (usually against their will) and the Council would become slightly more bearable, but typically, the unlucky individual was intelligent enough to escape eventually, leaving the heir, in this case, myself, stuck in lethargic boredom for several hours at far too frequent intervals.

"Byakuya-sama, we have come to the main issue at hand. For years you have been an excellent heir, bringing the Kuchiki name great honour and glory. You have risen to captain level faster than many nobles in our clan's history. Your strength and determination has made our clan one of the strongest. There is one last responsibility that you have yet to fulfill for us."

The man's voice was lordly and booming and I had the strangest feeling that if I drew my sword on him, it could just as easily turn simpering and begging. I ignored the twitch encouraging that decision and focused instead on exuding no particular emotion at all. The man's name was Kuchiki Naroyukou. He even resembled outside the weasel he truly was with a hooked nose and this odd twitch in the corner of his left eye for every time he felt he had the upper hand in a speech or conversation.

I was also getting this strange feeling that Rangiku was influencing my thought processes. Though I had never particularly enjoyed Council meetings, I didn't quite recall being this tempted to perform violent retribution upon the irksome characters before (with one possible exception).

"Byakuya-sama, the Kuchiki clan needs an heir," Naroyukou continued. He was warming up to his subject and determinedly working his way up to an explosive speech. "We know that you were married once before—"

Glances exchanged between other members clarified the extent of feeling regarding that union. I could feel a slow burn of anger pushing past the inevitable irritation.

"—But that did not provide the requisite heir. The Council has been patient, allowing for grief and passage of time in a way that was exceedingly patient and more than reasonable."

Heads nodded with varying degrees of eagerness around the group, some realizing the dangerous ground they were treading and others much less aware.

A nasal-voiced man named Kuchiki Nakayama led the group in confronting me. I was tired, but my supreme control of the noble mask was absolute and nothing trickled onto my face or out through any type of body language. The death of—my mind simply could not wrap around the name—had ripped through my world leaving it empty and dull, but more than that, just a place of constant reminders. Every carefully considered turn of my head gave me a fresh view of place we spent together and memories of her at my side. So, the man addressing me held little meaning to me. At least, at first.

"—we still don't have a new heir to our clan. Though we feel for your loss—" though his pompous voice denied the claim utterly "—we find it necessary to remind you of your responsibility to us and to our future."

I stirred from the well of misery well nigh drowning me to register what the highly offensive man was on the brink of suggesting. I stood up quicker than I have perhaps ever moved and made little note of it besides.

"Now that she is gone, the Council is of the mind that you remarry a more proper choice and produce an—"

The words never finished spilling over the fool's bloated lips.

I fully focused the cold of the Kuchiki glare on his suddenly frightened eyes, weighing him down with the push of his own worthlessness. He stuttered into silence and stared at me for a few moments before daring to open his mouth yet again. Pity.

"The Kuchiki clan needs an heir. We have a-a selection of much more appropriate choices to assist you in this duty."

I said nothing, merely continued to level my gaze at him for several seconds.

Discomfited by my lack of a response, Nakayama tried yet again. "You have neglected your clan long enough in favor of that woman. Now is the time to—"

The ring of steel filled the room, effectively cutting off his offensive sniveling. I drew Senbonzakura and felt her warm aura flow up through, just as intensely angered as I.

"Senbonzakura," I hissed into the shocked silence as my zanpakutou split into its myriad pieces, immediately converging on the cringing Nakayama. There was a momentary pause before they connected with flesh, slicing and cutting.

Nakayama screamed and flopped into a pathetic pile of blood and soul on the floor. He wasn't dead, I was careful about that. Just enough to teach him some respect.

I sheathed my sword. "Are there any other issues the Council would like to bring to my attention?" My hand had not yet left the hilt.

Needless to say, there weren't.

Since that event, the Council had known better than to broach that particular subject again. And then, of course, Rukia had finally been found, only a few short years after Hisana's death. I was satisfied with her as the new heir after me, but the clan was not. They had settled for the moment, but I knew they had just been biding their time. They had waited much longer than I thought possible (given their natural impatience), but I saw no need to hurry the discussion along. I was less interested in an heir now than ever, considering my fascination with Rangiku. I hadn't really seen her since our visit to the graves and had had little time to consider much of what she'd told me. Mostly, I had been mulling over the surprising change of my own emotions. I no longer found her to be an offensive degenerate. And, more than that, I was not ashamed to think so. In fact, the more I thought about the matter, the less I truly understand how I could have ignored for so long all the qualities she possessed that mystified and intrigued me.

I knew that Hisana would not have liked how I had dealt with the situation. In truth, I myself had not particularly approved, except that, in my grief, I did not have as complete a control over myself and my mask. Hisana would have wanted what was best for me. And she had never interacted well with other members of the family.

Somehow, I knew that Rangiku would not only have approved of what I had done, she would have applauded it. I could also see her staring them all down and adding that she found them to be stuffy old geezers to boot. I turned back to the new annoying voice on the Council, Naroyukou, who was returning to what had essentially been an unspoken forbidden topic.

"We also know that Rukia was adopted into our midst. However, there are none present who do not know of her position as a commoner. You are at the peak of your power and it makes the most sense to capitalize on that while we can in terms of the next heir. Now, none of us dislike Rukia—"

Though it was interesting to note that this topic had been broached on one of the few council meetings that Rukia was not required to attend.

"—but it's still true that you would produce a much better heir and one still of the Kuchiki bloodline. What we are asking is nothing more than your final duty to your clan and your family."

I turned to give my full attention to Naroyukou, weighing him down with my blank glare.

"Naroyukou. There is an heir to the Kuchiki. I shall take your advice into consideration, but remember that she comes first, whether the Council approves or not." And then, as only the heir can truly do, I turned my back towards him and ignored him. "Chiaki. Are there any real items of business to consider today?"

The only member with some sense on the Council, it was most reasonable to address her in this matter.

Chiaki looked me straight in the eyes, responding, "No, Byakuya-sama." Though the expression on her face never changed, I did see the slight twinkle that flickered through her eyes.

Nodding to her, I swept out of the room, leaving behind a chill of reiatsu just in case they believed I had not noticed the offense dealt to Rukia. It was a more subtle warning, but one none of them would miss.

xXx

I knelt uncomfortably before Hisana's shrine. It had been… longer than usual since my last visit. I felt a certain solemnity here that I was often unable to find elsewhere. It was a reminder to me, not only of everything she was, but everything I was.

Humility.

I suppose I'd never really identified the feeling before, so caught up in pride. Pride of the clan, pride of nobility, pride in my own skill and position as captain. So it was strange to me to kneel before a shrine and admit to myself that I had not been enough. Not enough as a husband and not enough to stop Ichimaru.

I wondered retrospectively what had happened to my denial. It had been my constant shield and companion since I had first begun to reason. Perhaps, I continued in a detached manner, the acknowledgement, however subtle and ignored it might be, that I did admire the strength Rangiku exuded had managed to break through the other shackles as well.

There was a part of me that still loved Hisana. I imagined that that would never truly end. But I was no longer dominated by her loss and by the love she never felt for me.

She would want there to be a happiness in my life. I would have told her Rukia brought me enough happiness. The way she grew stronger, both in the clan and amongst the Gotei 13 was impressive. She was learning to handle herself, not only as a shinigami, but as an adult. Year by year, she acted more and more as a Kuchiki, yet retained that stubborn streak of dating the Kurosaki brat. I was growing to appreciate more and more her adaptation and dual roles—maintaining her roots and sense of self while adapting to the demands of being Kuchiki heir.

Hisana's voice whispered to me that I was being foolish. Happiness is not gained only through the growth and success of a single person.

It felt, oddly, as though I had finally garnered permission (through her or myself?) to open myself to new possibilities. There was potential freedom to be acknowledged and explored.

Yet, having lived so long trapped by rules and limitations, I found myself unwilling to truly consider the idea of being free.

I ignored Hisana's commentary on that thought, offering my farewell.

xXx

If it had been some time since I had spoken to Hisana, it had been longer still since I had observed my fukutaichou training the division. After a day or so of meditating somewhat excessively on the conversation with Rangiku, I decided that I had given the matter more that enough thought.

I forewent warning Rikichi of my impending arrival and simply slipped onto the sidelines. The training had already started inside the 6th division training grounds. Zanjutsu predominated today it seemed and Rikichi was wandering amongst various partnered shinigami and offering advice and further instruction.

I frowned slightly at the odd mood of conviviality I was observing. It wasn't quite as relaxed as the drinking company at the bar but the overtones or distinct friendliness were unmistakable.

Rikichi smiled at a particular pair of unseated shinigami as the smaller, compact one pulled a tricky grip change on her zanpukutou and broke her opponent's stance.

"Good, good, Araki-san, you're getting better at that move all the time! Now if Daisuke-kun here could correct his footwork to match you, we'd be getting somewhere."

Daisuke proffered the requisite abashed look for his stumble. It looked a bit bizarre on his craggy and admittedly not attractive features but still seemed to suit him. "I'll keep practicing Rikichi-fukutaichou."

With a brief nod and a smile, Rikichi moved on. "All right everybody! Change up sparring partners! Don't want to get too used to fighting one person…"

Everyone separated and split smoothly, clearly quite used to this procedure. It was very little time before the clanging of zanpakutou began again, echoing louder than I might have expected to my ears.

While the quality of the training appeared equivalent to what I had observed in the past, the manner was different enough to give me significant pause. I watched for close to an hour, unsure how I could have missed these differences in the passage of time. Was I really so surprised that a division behaved differently in front of its taichou?

I supposed I should not, but the real difference was in the persona of Rikichi-fukutaichou. What could have engendered the contrast between the nerve-wracked and messy vice I was most familiar with and this calm leader before me?

I watched the sparring, nursing such thoughts without reaching any solid conclusions, when my thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the eighth division's fukutaichou. She strolled in much the way I had and walked directly up to me.

"Kuchiki-Taichou." Her tone made the words a greeting and she examined with a strangely evaluative look.

"Ise-Fukutaichou. May I ask what brings you to sixth division training grounds?"

She didn't answer immediately, instead continuing to stare at me.

I was less than interested in being discovered covertly watching my own division and so I found myself absent my usual patience. I skipped over the usual pleasantries and jumped abruptly to the well-known impenetrable stare that nobles—the Kuchiki family in particular—used quite adeptly as a mild intimidation tactic.

"I've just seen Matsumoto-fukutaichou."

She paused long enough for the words to register. Surprise spun inside and I wondered why on earth she was approaching me with this knowledge—whatever it was.

"She seemed quite upset." Her words were uttered with careful precision, delicately chosen. "In fact, she's falling apart. I think it would be a good idea for you to go see her. She's in her room, of course."

For a moment, my body was frozen by her words. My mask of nobility, for a moment, was gone and I had no clear idea what showed on my face. Falling apart?

My voice was quite rusty when at last I called on it. "Me? And why should I go see her? It seems this would be a matter for the tenth division." My feet seemed to made of air and lead simultaneously. Is this how a noble should react?

"I have no idea what gives me this impression, but I think you would be the only one to get through to her right now, Kuchiki-Taichou. Actually, the sooner the better, I think."

I had no idea what would give her that impression either, but I was so disconcerted by her other words that the discrepancy seemed to slip right past me.

"I will look into the matter Ise-Fukutaichou." The words exited my lips mechanically and my feet moved with a wooden precision. My mind functioned in a whirl, confused by own contrasting urges and desires. And while I flickered and fluctuated, unsure even of what my thoughts were, my feet took me directly to her barracks.

I didn't even hesitate; I opened the door and stepped inside and saw her sitting on her floor.

All thoughts of nobility, of Rikichi, Renji, Hisana and the uncouth nature of the lower class evaporated.

The moment crystallized and everything except Rangiku sitting on that floor and me, standing just inside the doorway, disappeared. She was curled up next to the bed, but not on it, broken bits of chocolate on the floor around her. Her blonde hair lay in slightly mussed waves as miniature waterfall down her back, framing the whiteness of her face and the bright shining of her eyes.

As soon as her eyes reacted to my presence, latching onto my face, she lurched forward and grabbed onto me, one hand tightly wound into my haori. The light of unshed tears finally broke over and she sobbed into my shoulder.

Ise-fukutaichou was right. Rangiku was falling apart. I was witness to the pieces splintering and, inexplicably, I didn't want that to happen. I reached my hand up to cradle her head and held her closer as if my hand could force the pieces together.

It was good that I had because she broke under my fingertips.